My favorite Easter Story

[Merelan]

Yes, I know this isn't the story feedback forum, and I know I am breaking rules. But thought I would share this link to a story written last year and posted here to Lit.

http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=12241

Written by Hecate, enjoy!!!!

 

[MissTaken]

Thank you, Merelan!


*laughing out loud at the glass wall of her pc*

 

[riff]

i cut this from another thread. thought it was appropriate

CAUGHT!
The Story of the Sunglasses
As told by

riff


My grandparents lived in the town of Marksville, Louisiana. When I was growing up, one of my favorite holiday trips was our family’s visit to Marksville for Easter. The particular trip in question took place when I was a boy and lived in Jacksonville, Florida. My family had traveled 750 miles on this occasion and while it was not the only trip of such distance we had made, it is a trip I will never forget.

On Easter Sunday our tradition was to get all dressed up and go to the big Mass at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church. Marksville is a small farming town and church on Sunday was a big community event. Because my grandfather was the County Agent, he knew everyone because nearly everyone was a farmer or at least had a relative who was. Following the Mass, everybody made a trip to the Courthouse square for socializing and picture taking in front of all the beautiful azaleas that burst forth into bloom at that time of the year. Later in the afternoon at home we had a huge dinner of roast pork or ham or leg of lamb. Once their bellies were full, the parents would take naps while the kids played outside.

At this time in my life I was around 12 years old. I wasn’t old enough to drive, but my brother was and since he could drive, we decided that rather than hang out at the house with the babies and the old folks, we would go to my grandfather’s camp, a small house on a lake outside of town. There we could get out on the lake and fish or hunt. We could build a fire and burn things (I always liked burning things, don’t ask me why, some of my friends called me “Fire Man,” but that is another story).

So we made the trip out to the camp, glad to be away from our parents and the “children.” It got dark. I don’t remember why, but D needed something at the store so we had to drive all the way back into town again. Their weren’t many places open on Easter Sunday night, but we found a TG&Y Drugstore that was open and we went in.

The place was almost empty. While D went for whatever it was he needed, I decided to have a look around. That’s when the trouble started. There was a rack of sunglasses right over there and I started trying them on. I found a pair that I liked. I knew stealing was wrong and that I could get into trouble if caught, but thought that if I could take those sunglasses back to Jacksonville and show my buddies how stealthy and sly I could be that they would be duly impressed.

“Hey, what are you doing over there?” a lady asked me as I turned to make my escape?
“Who? Me?” I said.
“Yeah. You just put some sunglasses in your pocket!” She turned and called to her boss who was a few aisles over. By this time, my brother was making his way towards us. I was caught and I knew it. I could try to get away, but if I ran, and was caught, the stakes would only be higher.
“D….” I called. He shook his head at how stupid I had been.
Now the manager was upon me and I was scared to death! This was not good. He asked me who I was, where I lived, and when I told who my grandfather was, he said he knew him and asked me to go with him to his office.

In his office I gave him the sunglasses and he asked me why I would steal, and I said I wanted to see if I could do it without being caught, at which point he was polite enough to indicate that my efforts had been unsuccessful. He called my grandfathers house, and then, he called the police.

At this point I knew that I was doomed. I was certain my father would tan my hide for what I had done and to make matters worse, all of this was going to happen in front of my grandparents. Doomed. I was dOOmed.

My father and the policeman arrived at the same time. Very little was said that I can remember. The manager and the policeman and my father were talking and my mind was swiftly trying to arrive at a conclusion as to what would happen to me. My dad took my arm and the rest of me out of the office. He didn’t yell or scream at me (others would do that for him. Heh!). As we drove back to my grandfather’s house (where was D? I guess he just went back to the camp, preferring peace and solitude to my execution) my father told me in a way that was neither accusing nor punishing, “Your mother and I did not raise you to steal. You know that is wrong. If you wanted sunglasses, why didn’t you ask for them? I would have bought you some.” He would have bought me some. “Why did you do it?”

I told him why I did it and that I was sorry I did it. “Does everybody at the house know?” I asked him.
“What do you think? Why do you think I had to leave the house?”

I was deep in it! If my dad didn’t yell at me, I knew my mom surely would. And she did. She did. My sister did. They were all over me! My grandfather wouldn’t even look at me. They sent me into one of the rooms in the back of the house to be alone. My mother came in, chewed me up and down some more and told me she had never seen her father cry in her life until that night. Then she slammed the door and left me in there in the dark.

I was so ashamed at all of the trouble I had created. I buried my head in a pillow and cried and thought of my grandfather and how he must have thought I was the worst of his grandchildren, the worst kid in the world. I sobbed. Then I started to get angry at everybody for yelling at me and I began saying to myself that I didn’t care what they thought. The door opened.

It was my grandmother. She leaned over me on the bed and rubbed my back and told me that everything would be all right. Her hand felt so good on back! She told me she loved me and that she didn’t think I was a bad boy, just that I had made a mistake and that God stilled loved me and that he forgave me. I turned around and hugged her. I don’t think anyone has ever been kinder to me than my grandmother was that night.

The next day we drove a very long drive to Jacksonville and when we arrived at the house, my parents called me into the living room and told me that I couldn’t go outside of the house for three weeks. And I forgave them.


(I wrote this a while back. Thank god for cut and paste.)