The Book : Part 1

I lay my hand upright on the table, wincing lightly in agitation. The hand is tired, ragged even, from holding tight to a slippery rope of insanity. I sigh and smile, as the man across the table chuckles. He finds it funny. Is it my pain he enjoys? Or is it just the game? He takes pleasure in too many things for me to tell for sure of anything.

I meet his chuckle and extend my smile into a grin, although it hurts to lie.

“Just say the word, and you’re free to go,” he says.

I stop grinning and scoff, clenching my hand tight in contempt. A few drops of blood trickle from my fist as I pull my hand back. He finds the droplets entertaining and runs a finger through them and licks them away from his finger. My stomach curdles.

“I thought we were on the same side,” I tell him after the pain falters away. I daren’t speak with the pain in full bloom, for my words may come out in a choke.

“We are. You wanted a shot at humanity, and I wanted to see you try.” His voice is boisterous and matches his black eyes magnificently. I don’t hate him as I think I should. Instead I find myself in a state of admiration. His puddle of humility was astounding and not of this world.

“I didn’t try, I did.” I reach into my pants pocket and pull out a book that I toss on the table. He nabs it up, his eyes zeroing in on my trump card. His face melds into a state of complete discontent. He slams the book back onto the table and resituates himself in his chair. Uneasiness consumes him as he crosses his arms before his chest and narrows his eyes on me.

“You’re naïve, God. Even if you did create the world in seven days, you overlooked the most magical part of creation. It’s not what you did, but what comes thereafter.”

I grab the Bible off the table put it back in my pocket. I stand up and turn for the door.

“You might have twisted my word, but they’ll come around.” God stands up and I stop in my tracks.

I turn around and softly say to him, “Fat chance. Neither your way or this way is correct, but with any luck, they’ll figure that out.” I turn away from him as he clenches his wide jaw and pockets his hands in his knee long overcoat.

I open the door as he viciously says, “It’s only a book. How long do you think a book could stick around in any specie’s existence?”

“You’d be surprised,” I whisper to myself and slam the door open and prepare for round two.