Fair warning: This is a Christian based story. So if you're one of those folks who doesn't believe in God, or something along those lines, than you may or may not be interested in this story. 

I figured I would let you know before you read it, that way you don't get mad at me later.

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I don't know how I got here. I don't know what finally pushed me over the edge. But I was here now. This beautiful place... The sun just beginning to vanish behind the mountains, painting the clouds in the sky with heart-breakingly lovely hues of orange, pink, and gold. A stark contrast to the cold, nearly-white pale blue of the sky.

At the mountains' foot was the creek, so peaceful and cool. I knew that those waters were deceptive waters. They only appeared calm on the surface, for underneath there lurked a current so powerful and quick that it could knock you down and sweep you away at only knee-deep.

Still, the sound was peaceful. Calming. I could hear a few birds, and behind me I heard a few tree branches stirring as various small woodland creatures interacted with them. 

Yet all this... All this beauty... All this power... All of it... It only reminded me of what I'd lost. It reminded me of everything.

All the grief, all the anger, the sorrow, the pain, the constant mantra of "why" in my head... finally boiled over.

I pulled the small New Testament out of my pocket and turned to that page. The one I'd looked at so many times that I knew it to the last bit of punctuation. "John 13:7," I read aloud, "Jesus answered him, 'What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.'"

I scowled at the verse, then turned my gaze skyward. "Well!?" I shouted, shaking the book in my fist, "I'm still waiting! I'm still asking to understand!"

No response.

I didn't really expect there to be.

All the emotions finally exploded, and I screamed. With all my might I hurled the New Testament into the creek. But that wasn't enough.

I leaned down and grabbed a rock. "You know what!?" I threw the rock into the creek with all the strength I could gather. I picked up another rock, "Fuck you!" Throw. Pick up another rock.

"I don't--" Throw, grab a rock.

"give a shit--" Throw, grab a rock.

"about you!" Throw, grab a rock.

"Fuck you--" Throw, grab a rock.

"God! To fucking--" Throw, grab a rock.

"Hell with you!" Throw, grab a rock.

I was panting by this point. I was tired. I could barely stay on my feet. But I didn't stop. I kept screaming at Him, kept throwing rocks into the creek.

I was sobbing, screaming, pushed to my very limits. How could He do this to me? What about all that stuff about us being His children? What about that, huh? Doesn't the Bible say constantly how much He loves us? Is it all a lie?

Why did He do this to me?

Everyone is gone...

My family, my friends...

I didn't even have a fucking job any more. I didn't even have a Goddamn home! I had nothing. It was all gone...

And what did God do?

Nothing.

He's just gonna sit there and let me deal with it.

No comfort, no dawning wisdom. He's just gonna take everyone and everything from me and then leave me to fend for myself.

I picked up another rock and flung it into the deceptive waters with the last of my failing strength. "You asshole!" I sobbed.

I was too exhausted to shout anymore. I was too tired to care. I collapsed to the cold, hard ground, and I sobbed silently, the tears flowing with currents much like those of the creek. Smooth and calm, but only on the surface. Everything sort of drained away as I cried. The feeling all leaking our with the tears.

By the time I was even too tired to do that anymore, it was dark and the stars were out. Still, I couldn't move. I felt empty. Like the life had been sucked from my body like juice from a juice box. Only now there was nothing left to be had from me.

So I just sat and waited for God to crush me in his fist and throw me away.

Nothing happened.

I was shivering with the cold, but I made no move to do anything about it.

"You know, you'll probably catch hypothermia or something if you don't get warm." Called a voice. I jumped nearly ten feet off the ground, I was so startled. I turned to see the silhouette of a young man standing behind me. After my erratic heartbeat had settled down to something far healthier, I turned back to the creek and shrugged, "I could care less at this point."

For a moment there was only silence from the stranger, but instead of the expected retreating footsteps, I heard him come closer. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and my breath hitched.

There was something powerful in that touch. His hand was rough with callouses, but it wasn't like a farmer's hand. I was different... It was a warrior's hand. But it didn't convey a sense of violence or blood lust. It didn't give me a feeling of wariness or paranoia. 

His touch was... soothing. And I felt all my pain being eased. It was still there, but I felt as if a balm had been smoothed over it, healing it. His hand on my shoulder didn't make the pain go away, but it made it bearable.

His touch not only soothed me, but it warned me. I felt as if a fire had been lit in my belly, and the heat spread from there to my fingers and toes. I felt war, and I stopped shivering.

The young man whispered in my ear, his voice a reassuring baritone, "The lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit."

Psalms 34:18...

My mouth fell open slightly, and fresh tears stung my dry eyes. No, not just stung... burned. I swallowed, my mouth opening and closing in a vain attempt to speak. 

But the young man wasn't done yet.

He quoted another verse to me, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we may be able to confront those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." 

I squeezed my eyes shut, the tears being shoved out of the way by my eyelids, leaving them no alternative but to make wet trails down my cheeks.

Finally I managed a hoarse reply, "2 Corinthians 1:3-4."

The young man gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze, "God loves you, and he wants what's best for you," He said, no longer quoting scripture, "It's not going to be easy. Nothing is ever easy. But hang in there, you'll be okay."

Then suddenly his hand was gone, as was the warmth that spread through my soul at the contact.

I stood and turned hurriedly, once again shivering--if not as before.

"Wait!" I pleaded, but then I froze. He was nowhere to be seen. There was no way he could have vanished that fast.

Not unless...

I bowed my head, hugging my arms to my chest, "I'm sorry. Please," I begged Him, "Just give me some time..."

Then I headed for home. To the shelter. And when I finally got there, I found my battered, marked, and sticky-noted New Testament. My little white one. The one I'd thrown into the creek.

It was perfectly dry, though the pages were wrinkled and warped.

Yet, flipping through it, I found that every word was still perfectly clear and easy to read.

I chuckled to myself, "Okay." I whispered.

I then set the book aside, collapsing on my bed.

I'm almost certain I fell asleep before my head even touched the pillow.

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So this is something I came up with when I was having a sucky day. I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to post it on Wattpad or not, but I thought, Ah, to hell with it. 

And now here it is.

Funny thing is: I'm not a Christian. Or a Catholic. Or anything along those lines. I guess you could say I'm agnostic.

Till next time!