“The same God who let Entragian push Kirsten downstairs and then hang her body on a hook for you to find. What God is this? Turn aside from him and embrace mine. Mine is at least honest about his cruelty.”
From the bushes at the side of the path stepped his mother. Her face was black and wrinkled, an ancient bag of dough. Her eyes drooped. The sight of her in this state filled him with sorrow and horror.
“Yes, yes, your God is strong,” she said, “no argument there. But look what he’s done to me. Is this strength worth admiring? Is this a God worth having?” She held her hands out to him, displaying her rotting palms.
“God didn’t do that,” David said, and began to cry. “The policeman did it!”
“But God let it happen,” she countered, and one of her eyeballs dropped out of her head. “The same God who let Entragian push Kirsten downstairs and then hang her body on a hook for you to find. What God is this? Turn aside from him and embrace mine. Mine is at least honest about his cruelty.”
