Cults and Peppermint

 I tried desperately to hide myself between two other children.

A heavy set woman in a frilly pink dress ran up and down the room.  Her
skin was flushed the same color as her dress with sweat and heavy makeup
dripping down her face.  Suddenly she fell to the floor as if an
invisible force has tripped her off her feet.

The room shook.

My young eyes grew wide with fright as her body convulsed on the floor
like an angry snake.   I was convinced she was the type of woman who
owned  many cats.

Her pink feathered hat laid lonely on the floor.

A demonic language began spewing forth from many whip like tongues,
including hers; I was terrified. The little girl next to me gripped my
hand and I held on tightly.  Two monsters grabbed my arms on either side
and shook my tiny frame. I cried out, having no where to hide.

Beefy hands pressed into my tear stained cheeks as the blackest of eyes bore
into me.  "Speak the language, Child!" The words this nightmare spoke
brought with it the reeking stench of oils and peppermint.

I felt the hand I grasped being pulled away from me.  I gathered up the
dress my daddy bought me and held it tightly in my fists.



I never did speak their tongue.


But,

     I still gag at the smell of peppermint.