The Quik Fill was even quieter than usual that day. Fay was behind the counter painting her nails, I was smoking a joint in the storage room, Ted was reading out by the pumps, and there hadn’t been a customer in three hours. The sun was dead center in the heavens, sending pulses of fire showering down on us. Ted was convinced that air conditioners were the devil’s work, so every outlet in the place was powering about five industrial fans, creating a hot tornado environment in the tiny grocery store. We didn’t mind the lack of customers too much; the calm warmth and windy silence lent a peaceful atmosphere to the place, and we were free to think on whatever it is we think on.

At closing time, we all performed our usual functions. Ted, the big boss-man, would close the register and lock the place behind us. Fay and I would take inventory, despite our protests that we had only attracted three customers that day, and that none of them had done anything but pay for their gas and leave. Ted was a decent man to work for, but he was ignorant and stubborn at the best of times. Fay loathed him. After we had finished, Fay climbed into the driver’s seat of our dusty old pickup truck, I jumped into the back, and we cruised into the twilight in silence. At home, we generally continued our reflective quiet until dinner, but as soon as we pulled up the drive that night, we knew something was stirring. Mom ran out to meet us.

“Kids, head to the barn. You need to see this!” We parked and ran after her towards the big red barn on top of the hill. In the setting sun, all we could see was the hulking silhouette, and a small slice of golden light emitting from the cracked door. Mom slid the door open and we saw Dad’s back and our youngest sister Dana’s wide eyed amazement.

“What…?” Fay began, but stopped short as Dad stood and backed away from the dead cow on the ground. A small calf softly gazed at us from next to the corpse. We could barely keep our eyes on it; it was shining like a beacon. Its skin seemed to be pure, shimmering gold.

“This isn’t possible.” Fay looked as though a strong breeze could floor her. Dad had an unreadable expression on his sad, old face. Mom and I kept shifting uncomfortably, and Dana was soberly caressing the newborn calf with tender care and reverence. Father finally spoke.

“This cow was a bit old to be giving birth. To be honest, I’m not even sure how she got pregnant, anyways. There ain’t no bulls around. I been noticing that she seemed sickly this past month, like she were carryin’ a heavy weight, her spine dippin’ an’ all. She died giving birth to…to this calf this morning.”

Dana kept close to the light of the calf, whispering nonsense to it. At four, she had yet to acquire the eloquence of my sister, mother, and I. Mom was a well-educated woman from up north, and she met my dad in Chicago when he was selling his goods at a huge market they have there every year. Love at first sight, I guess. Mom hates the way he talks, though, and since birth she instilled in my sister and I a sense of loquacious dignity regarding spoken language.

Fay was just dumbfounded. “What do we do about this? It gives me the creeps. I hope we don’t keep it. It really gives me the creeps.” Dana glared from the floor, and for a moment, it seemed as though the calf shared her sentiment.

“El-la!” The toddler exclaimed. Ella. The calf had a name. Fay walked back to the house frustratedly, and Mom and I followed soon after. Dana and Dad stayed behind, and didn’t reappear until the night had entered its next gear. Dinner was quiet and awkward, but that wasn’t very unusual. After the meal had concluded, Dad stood and addressed his disgruntled family.

“Alright, things today have been different. I won’t deny it. We just gotta keep living our lives, pretending things is normal. And, most importantly, nobody says a word about this. To anyone. Understand? Folks around here…” He didn’t have to say anymore, we knew what he meant. There were some real nutjobs around these parts.

And we kept the secret just as well as we usually do. By the next day, everyone at school knew, and that night, their parents knew as well, pretty much spreading the knowledge to the entire county. Visitors began arriving with cameras, trying to get a glimpse of the golden calf, and we were to embarrassed to refuse. My family had to buy a padlock for the barn door, something we had never needed to do before the calf had arrived. Some people were more deeply affected by the sight of Ella than others. It turned into quite the sensation, by the end. People began camping on our lawn every night, and helping fix up our house. They even built a small raised corral for Ella, and they would gather around her in awe.

There is very little to do in a small town.

The problem was, some of the neighbors met the news of our calf with the opposite response. One such neighbor was Ted, with whom work had become strained. The first day back at work, after the word had spread regarding our new family member, Ted threw the Bible in our faces. Passages were highlighted, notes were scribbled, and vaguely threatening letters were issued. Their intent was clear; Ella had to go. One way or another. This was not a simple task, however. The group of campers had been extremely attentive to Ella’s needs and whereabouts. They had even begun laying food out for it - full feasts.

My family was just tired of the whole ordeal at this point. Everyone, that is, except for Dana. The bond between her and the calf had reached new heights of strangeness. Her entire day was spent mumbling words to the calf, who appeared to listen intently. She even began sleeping in the barn next to the calf, despite Mom’s protests. It was getting unhealthy, her obsession with the animal. Two weeks had gone by, and the world we lived in had turned completely upside down.

The night that ended it all still feels like a dream. I awoke to screams and loud banging on my door. Mom was there, and her panic immediately snapped me to attention. We ran outside and were met by Fay, who was crying and covered in ash.

The barn was encompassed in flames. Ted and some other church folk had arrived at some point earlier that night, I gathered from hysterical testimony, and the group had begun fighting with the campers. The argument apparently had erupted into a brawl, and Ted had come prepared to cast the “idol” into fire, just as Moses had done a few years back. It must have been quite a sight, watching the Molotov cocktails crash against the walls of the barn and into the hayloft. They probably didn’t know that my little sister was inside. I really hope that they didn’t know. Not that it really matters. They are going to pay anyway. I just hope that, for their God’s sake, they aren’t as evil as their actions.

I kind of hope the same thing about their God, too.