Hi, I'm Michael, an American who has a very simple life. But before my simple life became the way it is, I had to go through several things. One of them was big news; it even came out worldwide. Well, let me put it in context.
It was the year 1950. The Second World War had ended a couple of years ago, but the country was on alert for possible nuclear reprisals, and people were a little nervous. Humanity had no choice but to take refuge in religion to move forward. During those times, several phonies emerged with their supposed words that would bring peace to the people. I was 15 years old, and my older sister Emily was 19. She took care of me since our parents had died. I was a rebellious boy, and my sister worked as a waitress to support us, so I got into several problems because I didn't have much supervision.
One day, I was brought back to the house where we lived by the police because I had been caught stealing at the market. My sad sister started talking to me about how I needed to change my life, that I wasn't always going to be a child, and that I should grow up. But like most teenagers, I didn't care much about what she said and continued doing my own thing. By the time I turned 16, I met some friends who got me involved in the criminal world, and we had several adventures. In one of them, we got involved with some very powerful guys who cornered us in an old building over the money we had stolen from a drug deal. It turned into a huge shootout where several people died. Miraculously, I got out of that altercation unharmed. By the time the police arrived, I was terrified—I had seen my so-called friends die in a very horrible way. I'll just say that one of them had his head blown off with a shotgun. I managed to kill the last guy, but I was traumatized. Being a minor wasn't enough to get me out of trouble; the cops arrested me anyway and kept me locked up. On top of that, I had to pay a high bail to get out. I called my sister for help, and she was furious on the phone, scolding me because we now had to spend our savings to get me out. She yelled at me and then hung up.
Already sitting in my cell, I met a strange guy. He was wearing a priest's collar with a black shirt, but he had dark glasses. He asked me why I was there. I looked at him strangely, but I had nothing better to do, so I told him the whole story, and at the end, I told him that I was very sorry. The man looked at me, took off his glasses, and said that in these times of perdition, everyone could be forgiven—that salvation was near. Without me wanting to hear it, he began to talk to me. He told me that I was someone special, very intelligent, and that I shouldn't throw away my opportunity to live by doing bad things. He said that he, too, had found salvation in the word. After he finished talking, I asked him why he was there. He told me that while preaching, he had encountered two drunks and had beaten them because they tried to rob him—that's why they had brought him in. He also told me that in his youth, he had trained to be an athlete, but after achieving success, he fell into drugs and alcohol. However, one day his life changed. I felt completely connected with this man, and we talked all night about the word, forming a bond.
The next day, my sister came very early to pick me up and paid the bail, which was a thousand dollars—quite a lot of money at that time. She was very upset and slapped me, crying as she told me that she had feared the worst. I lowered my head, asked for forgiveness, and promised her that everything was going to change. Before leaving, I noticed that the man who had spent the night with me was also being released, as he hadn't been charged with anything serious—he had just been held for fighting. He looked at me, handed me a card, and told me that he was forming a congregation to follow the Lord and that anyone who needed it would be welcome. Then he left. Since he had only spent one night in jail, he was free to go. My sister and I went home, and I started thinking about what I could do with my life because I had been given another chance. I decided to start delivering newspapers in the morning to help my sister. She continued working as a waitress. We had enough money, but we lived quietly.
One day, almost in November, my sister came home crying, saying that she had been fired from her job. Like with all precarious work, she was left with nothing—just the day's pay. With the little we had, we wouldn't survive even a month. She didn't know what we could do, and with what little she had earned, it wasn't going to be enough. My sister immediately began looking for work, but she couldn't find anything since she didn't even have a career. She was only qualified for ordinary jobs. One night, while folding my pants, I found the card that the man from jail had given me, and I remembered that he had told me to call him if I ever had problems. After thinking for a while, I called him and introduced myself as the guy he met in jail—because, despite how much we had talked, I had never told him my name. This time, I told him my name: "Michael." He introduced himself as "Jom Aljonjes," and I told him about the situation we were going through. Without much thought, he immediately told me that he was going to visit us. I gave him my address and hung up.
A few days later, Mr. Jom arrived at our door. He talked with my sister for a long time and eventually convinced her that we should move to his congregation in Alabama. Time passed, and we moved to that place. It was like a small town, surrounded by a huge fence—it looked like a small walled city. There, we were freed from the worries of everyday life. We lived like farmers, harvesting our own food, and worked very hard. It was fine with me. We were guarded by soldiers, though I doubted they were from the country because they didn't seem like real soldiers. I didn't know where they got their weapons, but most of the people followed Father Jom—now we called him that. The only one who wasn't comfortable was my sister.
Every Saturday, we had a sort of mass, and over time, I adapted to this new lifestyle. My sister, however, started going out at night, supposedly to investigate everything, as it all seemed strange to her. Several times, she was caught by the guards and, as punishment, was taken to an inn to spend the night. After some time of doing this routine, she didn't return to the house we had in the congregation. I was left alone, but Father Jom assigned another girl to look after me. By then, I was 17, and the woman who was now taking care of me was about 30. She was a very cheerful person and completely devoted to Father Jom—she listened to everything he said.
One night, this same girl came into my room and seduced me. We had sex; it was the first time I had experienced something like that. I enjoyed it at the time, but later I felt a kind of regret. I didn't know what was happening to me. I always asked about my sister, who didn't come back, but Father Jom always told me she was on a pilgrimage. Like a fool, I believed him and couldn't do anything else. Over time, I continued to follow him, no matter what. He said during the masses that salvation was near and that death was the ascension. We took some pills (they were rare); later, I discovered that they were just placebos to test our faith. He told us they were cyanide pills, but it was only a test. Some people were scared, but there were several masses with this concept. At that time, the congregation had about 900 people, and I was almost 18 years old. One day, like any other, black cars approached the entrance of the congregation. They looked like federal vehicles. The occupants met with Father Jom alone, but I never saw them leave. The car was taken away by another member of the congregation's security. I didn't know what happened to them.
When I turned 18, Father Jom gave me a bigger house and assigned three girls, between 12 and 14 years old, to my charge. They were very obedient. He told me I could do whatever I wanted with them, winking at me. But in my mind, I only thought about my sister. I couldn't bring myself to touch them or do anything bad to them. My faith in Father Jom was diminishing, and I didn't know what to do. A couple of weeks went by, and the girls who were under my care were grateful to me for taking good care of them. One night, the oldest of them approached me and had the courage to tell me what they had gone through. She revealed that they were not from here, that they had been kidnapped from other places. That was when I realized that everything was wrong.
I went immediately to talk to the Father to confront him about everything that was happening, and to my surprise, I found him with five girls in his bed. I wanted to beat him, but his bodyguards grabbed me and threw me to the floor. The damned Jom approached me and told me it was a pity because he was fond of me. I yelled at him, asking what he had done with my sister. Annoyed, he told me that the damned one had escaped. I felt a moment of joy, but all the joy disappeared when they threw me into a well and left me there for days. After not eating for days, they finally took me out, fed me bread and water, and then chained me, forcing me to do farming work all day.
Months went by, and they called a general meeting for all the cult members. I was tired and was placed in a house with other men who, like me, did not agree with what the damned Jom was doing. We were all weak, listening to the radio where that evil man spoke, telling us that today was the day of the general ascension, and that soon the damned government would come to take our lands. He said that all of us in the community should take our sacred pill to ascend.
When I heard that, I didn't know what to do. I was too weak to escape, and all the others were also scared. Our soldiers started giving us pills. We didn't want to take them, but they forced us. A soldier approached me, placed the pill in my hand, gave me a glass of water, and just looked at me. I didn't know what would happen to me, only thinking about my sister who had abandoned me and never came back. But I also thought it wasn't her fault because I got her into this, and maybe she was already living her own life. I reflected on all the bad decisions I had made and everything my sister had suffered because of me.
I looked at the soldier with blurred vision and couldn't see her face clearly. I just looked at her and asked if she could find my sister and ask her forgiveness for all my bad decisions that had made her suffer. With my last strength, I accepted the pill, put it in my mouth, and took the water because I just wanted to die. I swallowed the pill, wishing to end it all. Suddenly, I heard screams, police sirens, and helicopters. I began to fall asleep after taking the pill, thinking it was a peaceful death for someone like me. At last, I was free from this place of doom.
Great was my surprise when I woke up in bed and suddenly saw several bodies lying on the floor. A woman soldier approached me and asked if I was okay. Confused, I looked at her and realized it was my sister. I hugged her and cried inconsolably, asking for her forgiveness for everything. She just cried and hugged me back, saying that everything was alright. She covered me with a blanket and took me to an ambulance that was waiting at the exit of the congregation. As we walked, we saw lifeless bodies scattered around, including dead children. The saddest thing was that there were also dead boys and girls. That day, about 900 people died, and Father Jom, the wretched man, committed suicide in his office along with his trusted cronies.
In the ambulance, my sister told me that after spending several nights investigating, she had discovered the Father's plans to satisfy his perversions by creating a lawless place. The others were brainwashed with false hopes and brought unfortunate people to this place, where they also began to kidnap girls and boys. That night she had not returned because she had been discovered and had no choice but to escape. With tears in her eyes, she left me because she couldn't involve me. She wandered through the forest until she managed to reach the road, where a patrol rescued her. She reported everything, but there was no evidence. An investigation was sent, but they never returned. The authorities were more suspicious of the place, but she couldn't be part of the operation because she was a civilian.
All this time, she had been hiding and pretending to be a soldier to find me. She had never been able to do so until she was finally able to contact me. She said that she had swapped the pills they were going to give me for sleeping pills and had personally given them to me. She cried when she heard everything I said before taking them. She asked for my forgiveness for abandoning me in that place and explained that in the end, she fought with the remaining soldiers, killing everyone in the house. Ultimately, the army came to dismantle the place, but they arrived too late. I remembered the girls I had been in charge of, but I was the only one who survived the massacre.
I thanked my sister and just cried while looking out the window of the ambulance. The news reported that a total of 950 people, including children and adults, died that day. My sister, for her service, was offered a position in the police force and had a decent life. I started studying with her help and eventually became an engineer. Now, at 39 years old, I understand that life is never simple and that our bad decisions can lead to even worse outcomes. Never get carried away by the pretty words of a phony. You are in control of your life. Always be vigilant and aware of what's around you. This world is rotten, but that doesn't mean you have to be part of that evil. Think well, do good, always trust yourself and your abilities, and keep moving forward. Good luck, survivor, and remember that not all that glitters is gold. Thank you for reading my story.