Hector heard God. When least expected… but most needed. The unmistakable voice dripping intravenously into his brainspace, booming, “Stop! Don’t end your life!”
Hector stepped back, flabbergasted, dizzy with adrenaline and rapturous bafflement as the unexpected unbalancing cocked him over the edge of CityPoint. He fell; weeping, laughing, screaming, praying.
He pinned Isaac to the cold floor, restraining him with wax-coated ropes, the boy’s mouth gagged with an old t-shirt to stop the screaming. He raised his sharpened peeling knife and prayed he’d forget that look in his boy’s horrified eyes. But God didn’t stop him – and he never forgot.
Right! You definitely don’t exist. I’ve written to you twice and still nothing. I’m furious. Despite all the ‘great’ religions of the world saying otherwise, you’re just a made up entity. I won’t be writing again.
PS. If I’m wrong, please don’t be angry with me.
If you existed you might’ve got back to me, which means you probably don’t. And if you don’t exist, then you’re not reading this. I need some kind of sign that you don’t exist so I can stop writing. Although, then you’ll exist, so forget it.
I’m confused but I don’t think you can help me. I don’t believe in you but I’m compelled to write and tell you so. Does that mean I do believe? So, are you angrier because of my uncertainty or because I’m probably wasting your time?
Alfred lived a quiet life tilling fields and praying nightly for a miracle.
One Saturday he won 8.7 million on a double rollover. The press swooped but what made the headlines was the fact that Alfred never smiled.
Until his sister is cured, he’ll still be dreaming for that miracle.