You might notice that I missed a day on this project. Turns out actually sitting down and writing every day (something every person who tries to sell you a work ethic will say to do) actually makes writing easier. What this did to me is open a floodgate of odd but long ideas that I start then realize are outstripping the simple parameters of this project.
It’s fine, I make the rules. There will be 31 entries in this project but they may not actually arrive every day now that I’'ve got the bug.
The story below was supposed to be maybe half a page then the spirit took me.
Blessed Life Wellness centered getting back to nature as a core belief in the company’s commitment to health and detoxification. A Life Well Led, BLW’s in-house promotional magazine directed at selling this lifestyle to ambitious entrepreneurs, ran a mail-in poll to determine the company’s next destination conference. Unsurprisingly, a remote resort in Idaho, tucked along the banks of the Little Red River, won. Upscale, catered, and semi-isolated, the retreat had all the amenities the modern working woman might desire while providing ample unadulterated wilderness to ensure a rustic experience.
For Samantha Cawler, this was also the most financially beneficial choice. The founder, CEO, and primary girl boss of Blessed Life Wellness maintained a diversified portfolio, one fully integrated with her life’s work: providing god-honoring skincare and wellness products (coupled with exclusive vacation destinations) to fulfill the grand purpose of making heaven crowded. Recouping some losses from the scamdemic also helped.
The last two years were probably some of the best in BLW’s existence, promotionally anyway. Samantha was ahead of her time in pushing back against woke agendas and veganism perverting the righteous command over animals God granted humanity in creation. Peptides, chlorophyl cleanses, yak butter cold packs, and their best sellers: a suite of beef tallow skin and hair products. America was ready to embrace their true spiritual health and thousands of women were clamoring to become their own boss in their shared, sacred work.
Samantha arrived early to oversee the final details of the must-attend BLW event of the year. And to get a jump on her bi-annual spiritual renewal purge by getting away from her children for the week. Three tenacious teenage boys truly enveloped in the Armor of God, they were her proudest creations, sure. But recently they pushed the limits of her patience with their little podcast.
She was a radiant vessel of biblical virtue in her airy, expertly tailored white linen gown and Christian Louboutin Cassiadrilla pumps. Her hair spilled over her left shoulder and was pinned back away from her face by a cluster of sunny orange Christ’s Paintbrush blossoms that suited the intense brightness of the massive homemade Osage orange wood cross around her neck. Orange was her color and no amount of fearmongering and so-called environmental protection would keep her away from the angelic hues of these flowers.
Oh what a beautiful retreat this would be! Samantha stood in the grand entrance hall of the great lodge practicing the smile she wanted to use. One had to perfect such things as a diminished smile was a sign of disharmony in the soul, clear evidence that someone could easily be corrupted by the demons of our age. Next to her was a precarious tower stretching another six feet above her head made entirely of BLW’s latest product. Miracle Balm: Notes of vanilla and raspberry whipped with honey in the most luxurious all natural and slow-refined beef tallow making the balm a delicious, heavenly blend. And the legions of bottle blondes with their flower crowns and all-white outfits shuffling through the double doors would be the very first to try it.
Why engage in dedicated product testing when the true test was best left in the hands of those who needed to sell it? If they wanted to continue with the company, anyway, they would need to use it. Samantha’s staff had explicit instructions to monitor their use this week. Normally she would have had at least some in-house R&D but her dear little boys had done a number on the company coffers with a failed promotional stunt that only managed to land them in a jail in Hawaii and brought more than a few lawsuits to her door. God wouldn’t give her more than she could handle but he certainly didn’t hold back on this one. Her eye twitched a bit as she fought off ruminating but that money-making smile never faltered.
After check-in the usual conference must-dos kicked off. Never one to spend much time boring people with financial projections and earnings reports, each BLW front-loaded business into a four hour presentation and rank award ceremony. Freely flowing drinks, laughter, and god-honoring swaying to Amy Grant and Chris Tomlin whisked away any doubts her most loyal employees might have. Or at least plied them with enough alcohol they didn’t bother asking for more detailed financial disclosures. Finally, it was time for Samantha to take the stage.
Petals drifted down over the audience as her theme, Honey in the Rock, blared. Swaying, enraptured housewives squealed with delight. From Samantha’s perspective they blended into a writhing mass of orange-scented blossoms and bodies. “How blessed I am to be here with all of you! Truly, the work has been good, our work of uniting spirit and wellness. He sees your good works and how his generous love flows through us all!” She continued on like this for some time as she called all in attendance to join her in a prayer of thanks for the ceaseless bounty and wonder of God. By the time Honey in the Rock kicked up again, many women stood in tears as they stretched their hands to the sky in hope of feeling the spirit fill them.
“Now don’t forget, ladies, you have a very special opportunity to help Blessed Life Wellness reach new heights! This week we’ll all experience the nurturing, soul-satisfying power of Miracle Balm together. And with any luck, we’ll have it fully in stock before Christmas.” Inebriated cheers rang out as Samantha let a sigh of relief pass through that perfect, untainted smile. Get people drunk enough and they’ll agree to anything.
The next day began with a prayer and study breakfast in the East dining hall. Sunlight blinded guest and staff alike, wrapping them in the savior’s warm embrace. Samantha teased that their words of faith prompted God to smile warmly upon their family and their service to restoring the health of the nation.
“I hope you’re all excited for tonight’s activities. We will be going on a stunning nature walk deep in the forest to a little spring long believed to hold healing properties. That very water is blended into many BLW products. But today we’ll throw a bonfire pool party!” The confidence in her voice belied the disappointing reports she’d already received from her staff about the group’s minimal compliance using Miracle Balm. Some guests, who were now very much at risk of their sales quotes doubling, complained that while you could smell the honey, raspberry, and vanilla notes promised on the packaging, the tallow base itself was unusually potent. After several reports confirming the same issues across the retreat, Samantha was left with very little choice as she marched out onto the terrace overlooking the back garden.
She’d demanded the lodge staff reassemble the tower of Miracle Balm here and armed with a Bible and a crushing amount of legal debt, proceeded to make a show of speaking her intention over the beef fat monolith as guests spilled out onto the terrace. What once was a poorly formulated body butter was now an anointing oil.
“Please, before we head to the spring allow yourself to be anointed with this beautiful balm. I promise the stronger notes in the scent do subside much faster than you think.” Samantha smiled her perfect, saintly smile at it’s full intensity but it no longer had the same motivating power. In her frustration she had lost all control over the frantic, predatory nature of her too-wide and unblinking eyes. As if to free themselves of that ghoulish visage, each guest dutifully approached one of the staff who stood ready to smear the foul gunk all over their exposed skin.
Was it a gaggle of weary women trudging through the woods or a herd of cattle that had the misfortune of wandering into the wilderness? Something was indeed wrong with this formulation and each meat-glazed woman struggled to contain how truly wretched they felt each time they passed one of the torches lighting the way to the spring. The heat sent a wave of unadulterated barnyard funk over the group. Near the back, two women casually hung back and if unnoticed would sprint to the lodge to shower.
The spring was a good half mile into dense, old growth forest. They knew it was near as more of those overflowing floral arrangements studded with Christ’s Paintbrush blossoms were staggered between the torches. Samantha seemed to have an endless supply of the oddly spiky orange flowers, a plant few if any of the guests knew the name of, let alone where it came from. A few of the staff, however, did know. Samantha swore them to secrecy in their plot to collect them.
It was still a bit too light for the full bonfire festivities but as the party reached the spring frivolity seemed to be the last thing on their minds. The clear, chilly spring bubbled out of a stone outcropping perched above a rocky basin roughly the size of a temporary above ground swimming pool. It would require some amount of coordination if everyone wanted to take a dip but swimming was the furthest thing from their minds as many covertly attempted to scrape the miracle balm off their bodies. Cold water and globs of cow fat were not the best friends and it became clear that short of scraping at their flesh with rocks, the only thing miraculous about this balm was how impossible it was to remove.
“I’m not feeling very well,” a younger woman whispered to her friend who nodded in agreement. They were the second pair to attempt to sneak off and perhaps cut this entire retreat short once they had. A few others observed them slinking away from the group and in turn started looking for their moment to risk Samantha’s rage and flee. That was, of course, until a horrific roar ripped through the woods, soon followed by a shriek abruptly cut short.
Everyone froze. Whoever had been idly strumming a guitar muted the strings with a jolt that only added to the tension. Something definitely had happened but what could they do?
“Let’s…” Samantha cleared her throat to shake loose a sudden tremble “let’s start the bonfire, everyone. I think it would be best to stay here for now.”
“Oh piss on your bonfire, Sam. Was that a fucking bear?”
Samantha’s smile grew harder under the torrent of angry, half-screamed questions. The woman who talked back stood closest to the pathway but clearly looked as if she’d been mid escape when the scream sounded. “There are bears in Idaho but I’ve owned this property for many, many years. I can assure you there aren’t any bears here.”
“You OWN this place?”
“Then what the fuck was that?” Women shouted abuses too jumbled and panicked for Samantha to hear them at all but the shouting stopped as another roar boomed closer this time but the true origin distorted by the sheer vastness of the forest.
Samantha’s eye twitched, her smile no longer perfect but a gnashing, grinding grimace she still thought looked human. How ungrateful these wretched women were to question her knowledge, to refuse her hospitality.
“Now ladies, I think we need to stop and bow our heads in contemplation. The Blood will protect us, prevent the true believers who stand firm with me from danger. Please,” Samantha snatched out at the women to either side of her and pulled them into a human chain “please join hands with me.” She dragged her hapless victims down into the larger group. Out of fear or some earnest belief, other women joined this chain and began uttering their pleas to the sky as others snapped out of whatever hold this weird woman had over them and turned to run.
Samantha opened her eyes to take stock of her true flock just as a heavy brown blur burst from the foliage. Terrible hubcap-sized paws studded with claws the size of carving knives lashed out at a nearby link of the chain. Blood splattered over Samantha’s face and snow-white gown. She stood there as bears, called by the parade of sweaty, meaty women burst from the trees and mauled anything in their path. Bodies flew and crashed as women scrambled and scraped their way from the carnage but Samantha stood still, unable to move or look away from the abrupt massacre of her livelihood. That’s all these women really were, dollar signs and items on a ledger.
A nearby bear reared up as if to strike her but stopped short, bellowing in pain as a bullet struck its side. Another found its target and the beast crumpled at her feet. Framed in a halo of search lights, she offered her horrid cracked smile to the throng of uniformed figures flooding the clearing. Some helped survivors away from the scene, others checked over the bears. U.S. Fish and Wildlife officers teamed with Idaho State Police surrounded her.
While she had sworn her staff to secrecy with where the Christ’s Paintbrush blossoms came from, one who knew of their severely protected status chose God’s creation over a woman who only sought to protect her empire.