Kiteley exercise 119

We talked about Jeremiads in my religious studies class once at CofC. They didn't seem nearly as damning as the way that Kiteley describes them, but let's be honest, I was probably too hung over to realize what they were all about. Anyhow, in this exercise (found in the Description section of his book), Kiteley wants the author to create their own Jeremiad. He urges shock and horror and disappointment. The twist here is that you're supposed to describe a situation that wouldn't normally be associated with sin and suffering. The scene is then, supposed to be viewed through an inappropriate lens. Word limit is 500.

I chose a day at the beach. The writing is definitely over the top. I think I have a future in fire&brimstone cult-ivation. Maybe I'll add a reference to the gays and perscription pills and submit this to the Church of Xenu.

The waves lapped at the smooth, white sand with an increasing lust, the ever voracious tide yearning to overtake the innocent land. Rather than run from such a wanton display of lust, the people seemed almost attracted to it. They stripped from their modest garments into scant swimsuits barely covering their most private of parts. Women and men alike ran to the shore and dipped in the unholy water, splashing and rollicking. Though the hot sand burned their feet, they felt impervious to the burning which should have ignited their consciences. Men threw Frisbees overhead, their muscles rippling enticingly to the women who lounged on towels. Children dug at the shore with shovels, creating graves for their parents’ unrepentant souls. The screeches of joy and howls of revelry matched the crashing waves and the resulting cacophony provided the backdrop for Satan’s favorite hymn.

A group of young men sat in a circle drinking and openly eyeing the feminine body that seemed so unwilling to cover itself. The sweltering heat caused sweat to roll down the men’s foreheads as they wrinkled their brows for a better look. The perspiration continued down their necks where their pulses quickened at a glimpse of what should’ve been hidden from their piercing eyes. Biceps tightened instinctively and the men’s base nature took over. Thoughts of survival of the fittest were the backdrop for the rest of their actions and they immediately began to swagger and brag.

“I banged that chick last night,” one said with a laugh.

“I am virile,” the women heard. Immediately they all shifted positions on their blankets, to expose that which was previously hidden. Immediately the men knew it was working.

The children played on, chasing seagulls as if to make a crude sacrifice with the winged creatures. But none of their attempts could save the depraved world in which they were born. Soon they would be active participants in the debauchery and sin. Their swim diapers would soon be replaced with bikinis and board shorts and the world would carry on in the downward tailspin it had already entered.

Gemma stood in the dunes, watching them cavort. Before too long, the wind kicked up the sand and she was forced to avert her eyes. She knew this was not an accident. She was wrong to watch such a thing and remain passive while these souls fried in the sun like an egg on concrete. But they would not listen to her. Their ears had long gone numb to the words of truth. Their eyes were permanently blinded from the glare of their iniquities. They would not listen to Gemma. And anyway, she had lost the will to tell them of their doom a very long time ago.

Buy Kiteley's book and do the exercise (found on page 157) for yourself!