Status: Something I wrote on a whim and just now decided to upload it. Enjoy! :)
Not for This Earth
One
His useless, good for nothing hands held tight to the gun he’d found beneath his drunken father’s bed. A quick examination showed that it was fully loaded. ‘Thank goodness.’ He thought, for he didn’t know where his dad kept the ammo and didn’t want to be found snooping. His legs ached from crouching down for so long.
The young man’s feet shifted to roll his bottom onto the floor where he sat staring, transfixed, at the shiny revolver. He knew that it would only take one shot to blow him out of this silly existence, and his mind felt heavy with the knowledge. Would they cry for him? Who were they; it wasn’t as if he had anyone in the first place. Right. Nobody. His grip on the handle tightened, the forefinger of his left hand sliding into place on the trigger. One glance around the room only solidified the decision in his mind, the stained carpet and sweaty stench reminding him why he hated this world. Deep breath. No turning back now. One, two, three. BANG.
~*~
He’d never been particularly religious, but they seemed to have been right about the white light at the end of the tunnel. His feet shuffled forward, uncertain, afraid the light would wink out and that would be all. Faintly a voice could be heard in that light, his name repeated over and over.
A few steps more and he was there. The light was so bright his eyes felt they would melt out of their sockets, but he continued anyway. Tears welled swiftly and fell when he saw where he was. He found himself hoping that this was heaven. And then he remembered. Of course it was heaven.
“John.” A strong, steady voice rang out to him, but he didn’t start. He already knew who it would be. He was only sad that the voice’s tone was so disappointed. “I see you’re back.”
“Yes, Father. I’d almost forgotten it was all an illusion.” John found that he was weeping and couldn’t make himself stop. “You were correct of course; Earth wasn’t the place for me.” He felt a hand on his shoulder but saw no one. “Was mother right? Was she right to get rid of me so soon? If I were to have grown up truly into the boy you showed me I would be, well that would just be terrible, wouldn’t it?” But still a part of him wished he had been given the chance to grow up, grow old and experience other humans before they made it into heaven.
“It’s best not to dwell on it, I think, John.” He said to the boy. “Your mother made the choice to end her pregnancy before your time and that’s all that can be said for the situation. If you could choose, would you much rather have been cast out into that unforgiving place to make mistake after mistake, or would you have been content to grow up here, a true child of heaven?” John’s shoulders soon ceased their shaking; he knew which one he’d always choose.
The young man’s feet shifted to roll his bottom onto the floor where he sat staring, transfixed, at the shiny revolver. He knew that it would only take one shot to blow him out of this silly existence, and his mind felt heavy with the knowledge. Would they cry for him? Who were they; it wasn’t as if he had anyone in the first place. Right. Nobody. His grip on the handle tightened, the forefinger of his left hand sliding into place on the trigger. One glance around the room only solidified the decision in his mind, the stained carpet and sweaty stench reminding him why he hated this world. Deep breath. No turning back now. One, two, three. BANG.
~*~
He’d never been particularly religious, but they seemed to have been right about the white light at the end of the tunnel. His feet shuffled forward, uncertain, afraid the light would wink out and that would be all. Faintly a voice could be heard in that light, his name repeated over and over.
A few steps more and he was there. The light was so bright his eyes felt they would melt out of their sockets, but he continued anyway. Tears welled swiftly and fell when he saw where he was. He found himself hoping that this was heaven. And then he remembered. Of course it was heaven.
“John.” A strong, steady voice rang out to him, but he didn’t start. He already knew who it would be. He was only sad that the voice’s tone was so disappointed. “I see you’re back.”
“Yes, Father. I’d almost forgotten it was all an illusion.” John found that he was weeping and couldn’t make himself stop. “You were correct of course; Earth wasn’t the place for me.” He felt a hand on his shoulder but saw no one. “Was mother right? Was she right to get rid of me so soon? If I were to have grown up truly into the boy you showed me I would be, well that would just be terrible, wouldn’t it?” But still a part of him wished he had been given the chance to grow up, grow old and experience other humans before they made it into heaven.
“It’s best not to dwell on it, I think, John.” He said to the boy. “Your mother made the choice to end her pregnancy before your time and that’s all that can be said for the situation. If you could choose, would you much rather have been cast out into that unforgiving place to make mistake after mistake, or would you have been content to grow up here, a true child of heaven?” John’s shoulders soon ceased their shaking; he knew which one he’d always choose.