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Poisonwood Bible Short Story

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The Poisonwood Bible- Nathan Price It was out of sheer desperation, I would have liked to believe, that the Lord allowed her to leave. Our youngest, dead? It couldn’t be. The endless lives and souls of the Kilanga people that I had been trying to save seemed miniscule to the sins this white child had let direct her before I was going to baptize her. Her pale face vanished in my mind's eye as I tried to picture her cherubic face. So often had I tried to ingrain the fear of God into these girls that I lost all sight of them all at once I felt.
“She wasn’t baptized yet,” I said. And now I knew that she never would be. Somehow though, it reminded me of the day she broke her arm was just another day she and her sisters should’ve been inside with their mama. She came inside and showed us the swollen thing, all red an puffy-like. It emanated a soft and petite pain that comes from a child. And Orleanna just shook her head and spooned out “Lucky it was just a broken bone and not a snake bite”. I was about to whap that girl silly out of every idea she’d ever had until Orleanna reminded me that she was indeed a child and as such, a lamb of God although it was entirely God’s call and not hers to make. Sometimes I swore I lived in a house that was as dumb as a box of rocks. Yet that morning I had nothing say as I watched Orleanna silent as the devil himself, pull back her greasy blonde hair in a black scarf and throw on her white blouse. It was possible that she had just gone

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