Wrath of an Exile (The River Styx Heathens #1)

by Monty Jay

I am not angry at God. I don’t respect him. His toughest battle was bestowed upon a child. Gifted a father with weaponized hands. I was demanded to honor. Blessed with a patriarch who stoked violence in my throat. Heaven’s gates rattled as he shouted, “Don’t choke.” I am not angry at God. I don’t understand him. Fire and brimstone blister my blasphemous feet. Are his words not a salve for disbelief? I am threatened with hellfire for a fury that is not mine. Is it not a gift from the divine? I am not angry at God. I am wrathful with him. The eternal kingdom worships the sacrilegious deity who made me. Who gave me. Who tested me. Who saved me. All-knowing turned sacred ignorance when innocent lips try his line. Call has been forwarded. You have reached. God is unavailable at this time. I do not believe in God. My voicemails were hymns that lulled him to sleep. While I held my breath and prayed the Lord my soul to keep. I changed my number in the night, with hopes of peace by daybreak. Amen on my tongue, I woke with no soul for him to take. God left me to die at the hands of his gift. Now calls me to ask, “Why don’t you believe I exist?”