Grief: Five Stories of Apocalyptic Loss Read Online Free Page B
Author: Michael Coorlim
their casual attitudes. She hated them because they weren't cowering in filth. Who did they think they were?
The light at the other end of the culvert was suddenly blocked out as one of her pursuers jumped down in front of it.
"Found you." His sing-song voice carried the length down to her.
She shot from her end like a rocket, too fast for the pair waiting for her to grab, though one snagged for a second on the material of her shirt. She ran up the slope diagonally, half-way to gone before they even started after her. Each squelching impact her waterlogged sneakers made was a signal for them to follow, a track for them to find, but she daren't even stop long enough to take them off.
"Here!" a voice called from behind a cracked door in a brick wall. "In here!"
She didn't stop to think, didn't worry about it being a trap, didn't pause to wonder at her good fortune. Wendy cornered, traction-less rubber soles skidding on the street, and barreled through the sturdy door held open for her.
***
Ten days before the Exodus
"The signs, finally the signs are too big for the secular world to ignore, for the false Christians, for the papists, for the pagans, for the fornicators, for the heathens, for the atheists to not see. The mighty fist of God's wrath swings for our fragile fallen world even now, an inevitable blow that cannot be diverted. We cannot evade His righteous anger, and I tell you now, we deserve to be smote."
The congregation hung on each of Pastor Kostka's red-tinged words. There were fewer of them, he saw, but they'd been coming to every service, and there was a strong core of them that never left the chapel. He could see their guilt. He could see their fear. He could see, most importantly, their faith in him. Their trust. He would not let them down.
His strong voice rolled out, flowing from his lips into their ears. "Some say, many say, you see on the news, that the easy way out is to take your own life, as if this will spare you God's judgment. The easy way. God's judgment. The poor, poor deluded souls. God did not put us here, into this world of suffering, to take the easy way. And they forget. They forget that suicide is a mortal sin. You take your life to spare yourself mere moments of His torment in exchange for an eternity in a lake of fire."
There were nods and muttering from the flock.
"But there's another truth, another fact that the secularists and papists would keep from you. They'd tell you that there's no practical reason to hang on, that it's natural, that it's normal to commit the ultimate sin of self-harm, but consider this, friends. Consider this. This is the ultimate test of your faith, of your love for God, and I will tell you what they don't know, what they can't believe. There's another world coming, a world of peace and innocence, a new Eden, and if you take your life you will not see it."
He had their attention.
"Only those who endure this last trial, who make it to the end, only the last of humanity will be the first in this New Eden. So take heart, friends. Keep to your faith. Descend not into the temptation of despair, for only you who are strong and secure in your faith will be the seeds of a new humanity on God's New Eden."
"Amen!" Margaret Ross stood, clasping her hands together. A number of her fellows echoed the sentiment.
Pastor Kostka raised his hands. He had done what he could, to spare them the eternal torment that awaited those who succumbed to despair. It was in their hands, now, to use that hope to forge meaning from chaos.
***
Potato salad. Tuna sandwiches. Hardboiled eggs. Fresh fruit. Coleslaw. Roasted chicken.
Wendy found her hands reaching for everything at once, and forced herself to focus on one course at a time. It was food. Real food, not some packaged cast-off overlooked by a scavenger, not some half-rotten pear dug out of a dumpster. It had only taken three days to make fresh food almost impossible to hide in the city, and out here at
The light at the other end of the culvert was suddenly blocked out as one of her pursuers jumped down in front of it.
"Found you." His sing-song voice carried the length down to her.
She shot from her end like a rocket, too fast for the pair waiting for her to grab, though one snagged for a second on the material of her shirt. She ran up the slope diagonally, half-way to gone before they even started after her. Each squelching impact her waterlogged sneakers made was a signal for them to follow, a track for them to find, but she daren't even stop long enough to take them off.
"Here!" a voice called from behind a cracked door in a brick wall. "In here!"
She didn't stop to think, didn't worry about it being a trap, didn't pause to wonder at her good fortune. Wendy cornered, traction-less rubber soles skidding on the street, and barreled through the sturdy door held open for her.
***
Ten days before the Exodus
"The signs, finally the signs are too big for the secular world to ignore, for the false Christians, for the papists, for the pagans, for the fornicators, for the heathens, for the atheists to not see. The mighty fist of God's wrath swings for our fragile fallen world even now, an inevitable blow that cannot be diverted. We cannot evade His righteous anger, and I tell you now, we deserve to be smote."
The congregation hung on each of Pastor Kostka's red-tinged words. There were fewer of them, he saw, but they'd been coming to every service, and there was a strong core of them that never left the chapel. He could see their guilt. He could see their fear. He could see, most importantly, their faith in him. Their trust. He would not let them down.
His strong voice rolled out, flowing from his lips into their ears. "Some say, many say, you see on the news, that the easy way out is to take your own life, as if this will spare you God's judgment. The easy way. God's judgment. The poor, poor deluded souls. God did not put us here, into this world of suffering, to take the easy way. And they forget. They forget that suicide is a mortal sin. You take your life to spare yourself mere moments of His torment in exchange for an eternity in a lake of fire."
There were nods and muttering from the flock.
"But there's another truth, another fact that the secularists and papists would keep from you. They'd tell you that there's no practical reason to hang on, that it's natural, that it's normal to commit the ultimate sin of self-harm, but consider this, friends. Consider this. This is the ultimate test of your faith, of your love for God, and I will tell you what they don't know, what they can't believe. There's another world coming, a world of peace and innocence, a new Eden, and if you take your life you will not see it."
He had their attention.
"Only those who endure this last trial, who make it to the end, only the last of humanity will be the first in this New Eden. So take heart, friends. Keep to your faith. Descend not into the temptation of despair, for only you who are strong and secure in your faith will be the seeds of a new humanity on God's New Eden."
"Amen!" Margaret Ross stood, clasping her hands together. A number of her fellows echoed the sentiment.
Pastor Kostka raised his hands. He had done what he could, to spare them the eternal torment that awaited those who succumbed to despair. It was in their hands, now, to use that hope to forge meaning from chaos.
***
Potato salad. Tuna sandwiches. Hardboiled eggs. Fresh fruit. Coleslaw. Roasted chicken.
Wendy found her hands reaching for everything at once, and forced herself to focus on one course at a time. It was food. Real food, not some packaged cast-off overlooked by a scavenger, not some half-rotten pear dug out of a dumpster. It had only taken three days to make fresh food almost impossible to hide in the city, and out here at
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