A Chapter by tonymad11392

This is our third and final story, dealing with a woman who takes religion a bit too seriously


Lights, so many of them, darted by like comet trails; it was as if each speckle of blossoming warmth contained within it a universe all its own. She sat, tasting the cool night air, like a thin coating of frost on her tongue, feeling it caress the white strands of her hair, the aging face. Thumbs, her hands, ring finger, and index finger, all were busy knitting; it was her favorite hobby, sweaters, vests, even socks occasionally. The bus was almost devoid of anyone, except a petite young girl and some troubled young man holding a briefcase, which for some reason seemed odd to her. Her musing was interrupted, the bus came to a stop, lights blinking, the young girl stood up her appearance harkened back to the images of frightened rabbits she had read about in the picture books of her youth. The girls ebony hair shimmered, lulled in the wind when she stepped outside, like the mane of some magnificent horse. The glow from a nearby street lamp danced across the girls face and at that moment the world seemed so perfect and beautiful and the act that was inside of her head seemed to have a small amount of justification behind it. God willed it didn't he, the heathens of this eroded society needed to be purged, but that young girl with her radiant visage and those eyes with their shimmering symmetry gave her some semblance of hope. She smiled her lips (cracking) appeared scarlet in the dying embers of the light as her face was reflected in the window she was sitting next to. Shadows dance across her face and in that moment everything was beautiful.

                          Glory: Or the reclaiming of The City of God


The bus stopped and the light was slanting through the dusty windows, she got up out of her seat and walked to the front, clickclackclickclack her feet went on the floor. High-heeled shoes and stockings, she left entering out into the dark evening street. It was cold outside, bitterly cold to be exact, and she was glad she had dressed accordingly. She was ready for the task that needed completion, the task that the Lord God commanded her to do, she must purge the world of filth and that which would offend Christ. She knew where he was, as she was walking she reminisced about her childhood, so many memories scattered in fragments across a dusty floor.


She remembered pain and the Lord's absolution of said pain, when He had entered her life everything had changed for the better. That was precisely why she must punish those who do not adhere to Him, they have voluntarily walked to the light and thus they should face consequences for avoiding the rays of the Lord. As that thought passed through her head, she realized she had reached her intended destination, a dilapidated, dust colored building lay before her eyes, and the man she desired would be waiting inside for her, waiting to experience the true love God has for him, even insignificant beings receive mercy from the all mighty.

The inside of the rust colored building was almost alive with the smell, the feel of perversion. It radiated of the beaten down doorways, and musty furniture in the run down apartment complex. High above her, she could hear water dripping down from the partially collapsed roof in a rhythmic series of noises, and little light penetrated the interior of the dull building. She heard him first, a faint noise traveling across the landscape of time and entering her ears, it sounded like (singing?) perhaps, or was it laughing? She followed the thin thread of the echoing sound gradually to its source. He was squatting in a green shirt, frayed around the edges and caked with dirt, he was wearing ripped jeans and sneakers that were the color of decay, the same decay that seemed to permeate his entire being. He was rocking back and forth, arms clutching his fragile frame in a manner resembling a twisted embrace.


My dear she said, and she approached him and held his arm up to hers, a series of pinpricks the size of dimes littered his pale flesh, she glanced about and found a rusty needle lying beside him.


Mama is that you? he said, eyes red and mad in an apparent hallucination.

Yes dearie, you've been a naughty boy, what would Jesus think of what you are doing?


I don't know mama he'd be pretty upset with me, and I'm sorry but I wet the bed last night, I couldn't help it! PLease mama, I'm so sorry


Oh dearie she said, come here, and she embraced him and before she knew it he was kissing her softly on the lips, mama he said.


And for a moment, possessed by the devil or some mad physical desire, she slid her tongue into his waiting mouth.

The needle slid in quickly (for he was certainly used to their bitter sting) and he collapsed into her arms without a struggle.

He was dreaming, dreaming of a large multicolored ball, bouncing to and fro like a mad animal. He extended his arms, but he just couldn't reach it. It seemed to morph, change shape before his very eyes, change into something horrible with a litany of screaming faces and sharp, gleaming teeth. Their breath seemed to ignite the world around him into a conflagration of miniature stars, each one pulsating with some sort of perverse reality about to be exposed to him.

It was then he awoke, a quick sharp movement broken by a miniature gasp, deep within his throat. There were quick glimpses first, a single naked light bulb, flies, and a cement ceiling. He tried to move his hand but couldn't, his legs were immobilized as well. He would have screamed if his mouth could have undertaken the necessary motions to do so.

She preferred it this way, enjoyed it in fact, for it states, "For many deceivers are entered into the world, who confess not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh.  This is a deceiver and an antichrist." Does this man not personify those qualities, she thought to herself. His hedonistic lifestyle led him away from the true light of Christ, and thus it was her duty, as his spiritual guardian, to show him the true grace of God.


She approached him swiftly, now, she said, are you ready to accept Christ as your eternal savior?


What, f**k you he spat


Well, that just won't do she said, and she slapped him, hard.


I'll ask you again, heathen, are you ready to accept Christ as your eternal savior?


No, he bellowed, what has your God ever done for me


Everything, she hissed, are you blind?


No he said, no, no, no, I believe in myself and that’s all I need


Wrong, you ignorant fool, Christ saved you from the fires of hell, and he did so for your sins, and mine, he loves you, don't you see?


If your God's idea of love is to have men butcher one another for no apparent reason, than he shows his compassion for humanity every day


It took several crucial seconds for this thought to reach her brain; she just did not believe anyone in their right minds could say such a thing. She took him in, all of him, his fragile form bound to the rusty chair, his defiant eyes, and she took out a knife she had been concealing (God's divine hand acting through her) and removed the top of his pinky finger. It was a quick motion; he didn't even realize it was gone at first, not until his eyes grew in terrible realization.


You b***h, he snarled and his face contorted into a mask of rage, and he began to shake violently, rocking the chair back and forth and moving his head furiously at the same time.


You b***h, you b***h, you b***h, he kept repeating and eventually his words became choked sobs. my f*****g finger he wailed, you b***h, you b***h


You see, that is what happens when you reject the Lord our God, you must be punished for your transgressions, now she said, would you like me to get the pliers?


No, he squealed, I'll believe anything you say, just tell me.


She then began to educate about the one true God, and his son and equal Jesus. Who came to earth, preached love and forgiveness, and was crucified by angry men that did not understand, or were skeptical of his message. She told him how one must live in the true light of Christ by spreading his message, forcefully if necessary. In the end, he must live the life Christ intended him to.

As she began to release him from his chair, slowly cutting the straps, he said, I sort of understand what you said, but parts of it still don't make perfect sense to me.


Dearie, she exclaimed warmly, it doesn't have to make sense, you just have to believe it.

© 2010 tonymad11392

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bravo! i likes this some people take religion too far this is a good piece of art

Posted 12 Years Ago

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Added on August 26, 2010
Last Updated on August 26, 2010



Boston, MA

I am a college sophomore who enjoys writing, reading, and contemplating the mysteries of our universe more..

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