does anyone like the thread??? We all know Sir Wragg should lose his title but he has too much 'dirty laundry' on too many royals...
-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Sister Angel In The Deep South...
- Thread starter thehangingtree
- Start date
If you would let me out of the washer...glub blub gahhhh ... I would gladly tell you .... "It's great Tree!!!! Encore encore!"
I walk up the bank to the men. There is no point in running. I’m sure they would catch me. I lower my head down and say “I cannot stop you from doing whatever you wish to me. But may I dress and have my crucifix?”
“No you may not dress but you will get your cross soon enough” one of them say as another circles behind me. My wrists and elbows are bound behind my back and as the rough hemp is cinched tight I feel that warmth in my loins. Meekly I ask “Are you going to rape me?”
One slaps me and says “We are gentlemen and married at that! You go to your death a virgin, nun!”
Damn, I’m getting a bit excited by this and being raped by four men before going to my death would be…
“Wait! Wait! WAIT a minute!!! What do you mean ‘go to my death’” I cry. “I have done nothing to you!”
They drag me through the woods away from the path to the town. One says “A women of the cloth is no different than the rest of the carpetbaggers you Yankees send done here. You give the niggers forty acres and a mule then send sisters like you down here to teach them to read.
“But it ain’t your forty acres and it ain’t your mule to give them! And by the time you teach the niggers to read they will have starved or be working for me again. So I’m just saving their lives and keeping you from wasting your time.”
We come to a clearing and I see a noose dangling from a tree limb. I try to pull away but his grip on me is too strong! I cry “You can’t hang me! You wear a badge of a sheriff! You are a man of the law!”
He sneers at me “You are a ‘woman of the cloth; I am the law! This ain’t where you hang.”
“What do you mean?” I ask not that I really want to know. This is not going to go well for me whatever they have in mind.
He says “That noose ain’t for you, sister; it just marks the property line so the niggers know not to come here.”
I am not feeling much better…
Tree wanted to mention that this story happens at the end of the U.S. Civil War. There are still laws on the federal books that punish the southern states, right or wrong…
Tree
“No you may not dress but you will get your cross soon enough” one of them say as another circles behind me. My wrists and elbows are bound behind my back and as the rough hemp is cinched tight I feel that warmth in my loins. Meekly I ask “Are you going to rape me?”
One slaps me and says “We are gentlemen and married at that! You go to your death a virgin, nun!”
Damn, I’m getting a bit excited by this and being raped by four men before going to my death would be…
“Wait! Wait! WAIT a minute!!! What do you mean ‘go to my death’” I cry. “I have done nothing to you!”
They drag me through the woods away from the path to the town. One says “A women of the cloth is no different than the rest of the carpetbaggers you Yankees send done here. You give the niggers forty acres and a mule then send sisters like you down here to teach them to read.
“But it ain’t your forty acres and it ain’t your mule to give them! And by the time you teach the niggers to read they will have starved or be working for me again. So I’m just saving their lives and keeping you from wasting your time.”
We come to a clearing and I see a noose dangling from a tree limb. I try to pull away but his grip on me is too strong! I cry “You can’t hang me! You wear a badge of a sheriff! You are a man of the law!”
He sneers at me “You are a ‘woman of the cloth; I am the law! This ain’t where you hang.”
“What do you mean?” I ask not that I really want to know. This is not going to go well for me whatever they have in mind.
He says “That noose ain’t for you, sister; it just marks the property line so the niggers know not to come here.”
I am not feeling much better…
Tree wanted to mention that this story happens at the end of the U.S. Civil War. There are still laws on the federal books that punish the southern states, right or wrong…
Tree
Quiet Paul
Tribune
It is getting more and more tense, Tree, and brilliant with it
I am let down a path until we arrived at a large meadow where there was a large gathering of men and women with many of the men wearing tattered and faded Confederate army uniforms from the war that ended just a few years ago. Standing in front of them is a man of the cloth. At first I think he is a Catholic priest and ask him if he could hear my confession. He tells he is not Catholic and that I could take my sins with me to hell. Then he turns to address the crowd. I jump as someone fires a gun behind me to get their attention. Then the reverend raised his voice.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have had carpetbaggers and people shielded by the cloak of religion descend upon us to pick what wealth is left of the South and to educate the Negros while ignore our schools and our children. But this woman is the worst of the charlatans. She hides in a nun’s habit yet seduces men along her journey! There is no telling how many of your men she would beguile and bed! The noose is too merciful a death for this woman!”
Cries of ‘Amen’ ring out! I get a sick feeling in my gut that Sir Wragg’s promised telegram to the town sheriff was more for the sheriff’s benefit than as a kindness to me. The reverend continues.
“You may think her a whore but to do that insults the women of the evening. No, this is Satan embodied in the form of woman!!! Hanging the wench that hides behind the cloth of religion is far too merciful! So with these three spikes we shall fix her to a cross, raise it, and watch her suffer and die as she hangs from it!”
He holds up three huge spikes laced together with a leather strap. They are going to crucify me! Oh my, that feeling fills my loins!
The ropes are removed wrist and arms. My hair is let down and the ribbon that held it is replaced with a crown of thorns! A cross is brought to me and still overwhelmed by this turn of event I accept it without a word. I am told to move forward.
They have whips to prod me forward but I give them no reason to use them. Yes I fear the cross but unlike my Lord who did nothing to deserve his crucifixion, I shed my habit and gave myself to Sir Wragg. He did not rape me I believe would not have if I refused his advance. Would I not have fingered myself while I bathed in the stream if I was not being watched?
As I drag the cross I feel the stipe of cross vibrate as base of cross rises and falls over each undulation of the ground. I feel every pebble I step on but I persevere. I do not wish to die but if one deserves to die on the cross it is I!!!
Tree
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have had carpetbaggers and people shielded by the cloak of religion descend upon us to pick what wealth is left of the South and to educate the Negros while ignore our schools and our children. But this woman is the worst of the charlatans. She hides in a nun’s habit yet seduces men along her journey! There is no telling how many of your men she would beguile and bed! The noose is too merciful a death for this woman!”
Cries of ‘Amen’ ring out! I get a sick feeling in my gut that Sir Wragg’s promised telegram to the town sheriff was more for the sheriff’s benefit than as a kindness to me. The reverend continues.
“You may think her a whore but to do that insults the women of the evening. No, this is Satan embodied in the form of woman!!! Hanging the wench that hides behind the cloth of religion is far too merciful! So with these three spikes we shall fix her to a cross, raise it, and watch her suffer and die as she hangs from it!”
He holds up three huge spikes laced together with a leather strap. They are going to crucify me! Oh my, that feeling fills my loins!
The ropes are removed wrist and arms. My hair is let down and the ribbon that held it is replaced with a crown of thorns! A cross is brought to me and still overwhelmed by this turn of event I accept it without a word. I am told to move forward.
They have whips to prod me forward but I give them no reason to use them. Yes I fear the cross but unlike my Lord who did nothing to deserve his crucifixion, I shed my habit and gave myself to Sir Wragg. He did not rape me I believe would not have if I refused his advance. Would I not have fingered myself while I bathed in the stream if I was not being watched?
As I drag the cross I feel the stipe of cross vibrate as base of cross rises and falls over each undulation of the ground. I feel every pebble I step on but I persevere. I do not wish to die but if one deserves to die on the cross it is I!!!
Tree
They last part of my walk is up a small hillock. I imagine I am on my way to Golgotha, my Golgotha! I know that sounds like blasphemy but that is my reality. The hill is not tall nor is the slope that steep but my cross that did not that seem heavy seems to gather weight which each step I take. My feet slip a few times as I climb the hill. I imagine being nailed to this cross and being raised. Who would have thought imagining having a loincloth would offer my body some modesty…
Tree
Tree
LittleSiss
Sorceress
Tree does not mind side chatter but except a couple of 'likes' there has been few comments about the thread... Ain't trolling but I put a bit of thought in this...
Tree
Tree
LittleSiss
Sorceress
SORRY!
The kisses of Angels on your thread ... hold on to your hat!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Unusual perhaps for its setting in a postbellum American South and for its subtle social commentary ... and exemplary of course for its good writing and plotting, in addition to its illustration and general all around horror and mayhem directed at one poor woman. Sure to be read are re-read in the critical literature courses at the University of the Virgin Martyrs.
Academic enough for you?
Last edited:
Quiet Paul
Tribune
It is so tense and erotic, more so as the victim sees her crucifixion as a specific re-enactment and martyrdom. I am really enjoying this, Tree. It brightens my morning so much
JimOregon
Magistrate
Enjoying the story but like all good stories it appears to be coming to an end.
That's why it's a short story... Second to last part...
I am here (there? …I don’t know). The cross is taken from my shoulder and I realize how much I hurt from dragging it here. Things happen fast. I am slammed onto the cross. Men stretch me out so my wrists are over the wood and my feet lay one over another on the stipe. JESUS CHRIST, What was that??? I raise my head and look down over my body and see the head of the spike protruding the arch of my top foot with my blood oozing about the shank.
What was THAT? My right wrist is pinned to the cross. I look at my left wrist. A spike is pressed against my flesh. I should look away but cannot as the hammer flashes towards the head of the spike. The blow easily sends the spike through my flesh and pins me to the wood. Two blows later my wrist is one with the cross. They move to my right wrist and perversely I watch my last limb be attached to the cross…
Tree
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
.... I especially like the line "my wrist is one with the cross".It adds a sense of finality, as well as artistry, to the imagery in my mind.
Nice emotional/descriptive treatment of the nailing Tree.
My body moves and someone slide a rough board up between my shoulders and buns. I seem to freefall then there is a horrible jolt. I hear cracking in my neck as my chin bounces on my chest. What happened???
I am crucified! Parts of me hurt that I never knew could. The mound is not high but I am exposed to several hundred that look upon my naked body pinned to the wood. Some of them look at me with what I think is lust… I’m not sure. Most of the women and many of the men look at me with scorn and contempt. Why shouldn’t they? They think I am not just a carpetbagger but a hussy dressed as a nun to take their men.
They circle around me and watch me writhe against the wood. I tell my body to stop its evil dance but it like the mob cares not what I think. When did that happen? The remnant of Sir Wragg’s dinner is stuck between my ass’ buns. Sweat burns my eyes and blood from my forehead pools behind it. The serene crucifixion of my Christ is not like mine!
A familiar voice says “Is it everything you imagined?”
I did not have to look to know it was Sir Wragg, his voice is unmistakable! I look down at him and though he is not a short man my feet are nailed to the wood above his head.
“Everything and more” I groan.
“While the light is still good my associate Mr. Rodent will take some photographs of you. You must stay still” he says to me.
“I’ll do my best” I promise him.
It takes a few minutes to get the boxy camera set up and some of my executioners gather about the base of my cross and done hoods and robs and pick up large candles. They pose about me and this Mr. Rodent asks me to hold my head up and be still for a few moments. I find it odd that yesterday I was virgin nun and within twenty-four hours I gave my virginity to the man who asking me to pose while I hang naked from a cross with the Klan that crucified me and I comply!
What else can happen before I die?
Tree
…should she have asked that???
I am crucified! Parts of me hurt that I never knew could. The mound is not high but I am exposed to several hundred that look upon my naked body pinned to the wood. Some of them look at me with what I think is lust… I’m not sure. Most of the women and many of the men look at me with scorn and contempt. Why shouldn’t they? They think I am not just a carpetbagger but a hussy dressed as a nun to take their men.
They circle around me and watch me writhe against the wood. I tell my body to stop its evil dance but it like the mob cares not what I think. When did that happen? The remnant of Sir Wragg’s dinner is stuck between my ass’ buns. Sweat burns my eyes and blood from my forehead pools behind it. The serene crucifixion of my Christ is not like mine!
A familiar voice says “Is it everything you imagined?”
I did not have to look to know it was Sir Wragg, his voice is unmistakable! I look down at him and though he is not a short man my feet are nailed to the wood above his head.
“Everything and more” I groan.
“While the light is still good my associate Mr. Rodent will take some photographs of you. You must stay still” he says to me.
“I’ll do my best” I promise him.
It takes a few minutes to get the boxy camera set up and some of my executioners gather about the base of my cross and done hoods and robs and pick up large candles. They pose about me and this Mr. Rodent asks me to hold my head up and be still for a few moments. I find it odd that yesterday I was virgin nun and within twenty-four hours I gave my virginity to the man who asking me to pose while I hang naked from a cross with the Klan that crucified me and I comply!
What else can happen before I die?
Tree
…should she have asked that???
My guess and my experience both say "NEVER EVER ASK!"
Nice "period touch" Tree with the box camera and the need to hold perfectly still...as if she has a chance in hell of doing that...oops inappropriate nun talk there
... and oh, btw, not sure RR could possibly be tall enough to aim a box camera on a tripod, but he could get help I suppose.
What's with the hoods and robes....precursor here to the KKK?
Certainly the Klan...
It is not the first time the Klan has crucified a nun on a Tree thread...
Tree
It is not the first time the Klan has crucified a nun on a Tree thread...
Tree
Quiet Paul
Tribune
I agree. And what an image to accompany, Tree. Those eyes, full of pain, terrorMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
It adds a sense of finality, as well as artistry, to the imagery in my mind.
Nice emotional/descriptive treatment of the nailing Tree.