Benjamin Robertson

“Good evening disciples. By order of the supreme almighty who has told me to recount my days, I ask that you listen, for what could be the end. I’m afraid that my time of observation in your world has come to an end. Recently I’ve come into contact with a youth who I believe will soon, if he hasn’t done so already, report me. It all happened little over a week ago.”

It happened where I spend my time. A sound of whistling from down the alley caused me to quickly become alert. A slow pump of adrenaline passed through my veins. At that exact moment he passed, my voice shouts “Who dares bring himself down my alley?” His retinas, expanded and then settled. I repeated, “who dares bring themselves down my alley?” Many victims have learned this alley bears a dead end. “I’m sorry sir. I’m late for church.” I beckoned for him to sit, and much to my surprise he did.

“Good evening, my name is Less Holmes, and yours?”

“Jack sir…um could I go?” I disregard his fear.

“Jack lad, you believe in God don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes sir, Christianity is alright, but it’s flawed.

We agreed to meeting for numerous discussions. Weeks would go by with our meetings about the inaccuracies of religion, when one day I knew the time had come for me to finally reveal myself.

“Jack, I have lied to you, for I am the leader of the God Lovers’ Cult.”

“Never heard of it,” he said. “Tell me.”

And so I began. “Our creator is no man but an ominous presence like the fog that rests over the bay in the morning. Except he has the power to create worlds. He was the last of his species after a monstrous war, which caused all but him to survive. One day he became ill, and with all his might he gave life to a planet right before his death, leaving his creations to fend for themselves. There was no son of god who soared down from the heavens, because heaven was the universe. And, the most ancient rule of all is that we are to never ascend to the resting place of our creator. So if the S.O.G. wished to break his fathers greatest rule, then it must mean nothing. Thus the difference between heaven and hell is obsolete; there is only hell, no promises of peaceful eternity.” I paused allowing for my potent words to sink in. “Jack?” I asked, but all I get was the sound of him running off. Hope is lost.”

“He’s crazy!” Jack bellowed into his cell phone. “Send the police or something please!” A click of the phone. Then a voice from above, “The homeless are just an illusion under the years of drug abuse, and lack of hygiene lies the meaning to life.