After graduating from high school, Mathew sets out to do a two-year missionary service like everyone else his age.
Mathew thought that his only problem would be him adjusting to the city as someone who's lived in a farming town all his life. he didn...
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"Hey sir, have you heard about the prophet Joseph Smith—" The door slammed shut before my partner could even finish. We both stared at the closed door in disbelief before laughing.
"Father in heaven help us," Sam said, shaking his head as he stepped down from the step. I just gave him a pitiful smile, shrugging before letting out a sigh. It was early noon, and we were asked to go out sharing filers, and asking if anyone would like to keep in touch with us.
"I should have said Jesus, everyone knows Jesus," Sam said, smacking his acne-ridden forehead as he groaned, lamenting like it was the most obvious walk around to people slamming doors shut whenever they saw us.
"But we're supposed to be teaching people about the apostasy, and our church. So yeah, we must bring up Joseph Smith at some point," I said, watching as he shrugged before adjusting his black tie. Our uniform was simple, a white long-sleeved top over black slacks and black ties. Sam's clothes were a little bit too big for him, but I guess it didn't matter much.
"Also," I started, looking out into the empty street. When we had started coming in there had been some people about, but it seemed like they disappeared into their homes to avoid us. "I don't think many people here even are Christians at all," I finished, turning back to Sam who was now nodding. Unlike most of the other towns returning missionaries spoke about, our church was the only one in sight.
"We should head back for today, maybe look around the street before ours before we do," Sam said, folding his hands. Small beads of sweat had started to form on his forehead. It was a hot day, and it was only going to get hotter if the rising temperatures were a sign of any sort. We started heading back, talking together and handing out fliers when we met people on the street. They would smile and nod their heads at us when we talked to them, but the sight of someone rolling up the flier we had given them and tossing it away right after made me feel terrible. I guess it was the same for Sam, but he kept smiling. We were doing our best after all.
"Okay, we can knock on doors in this street before heading back to the station," Sam said, stopping at the turn to the street just before ours. I hadn't really noticed this place before and we'd been at the station for about three days. I even jogged past it from time to time.
"Okay," I said, and we walked into the street, moving from house to house. For the most part, people didn't answer. Most of them pretended not to be home, but we knew better. The sound of people drawing their curtains closed and shuffling from the inside wasn't hard to miss. After a while of knocking or pressing bells, we would sigh and give up, leaving a flyer in front of the door before heading to the next house. I noticed that most of the houses here were in a conjoined building style, or they were lowly battered-looking flats.
My nose scrunched up at the smell of smoke at one person's door, but Sam persisted and continued knocking. After a few minutes of knocking and ringing the bell he stopped, and we just settled for dropping off a flyer and leaving.
