DOOMS DAY (a short fiction story)
I use to know God. I sat with him at the dinner table before my meals. Some days, I walked with him to school and he used to whisper the right answers to me whenever I felt so nervous. But that was back then. Those days are gone with the dust of history.
I was to turn six the next day. He never showed up on that night. Maybe because it was not a clear night, I looked through my window and the sky had been over shadowed by a grime of vengeful souls with sounds of screeching bullets accompanied by agonizing cries.
The deafening sounds of bombs sung in tune and I decided that He was no longer with me. He was dead. God was dead. He had been on his way to my house like he always did. And He had been caught in a cross fire.
My bedroom door was clumsily forced opened and standing at the door was my mother. I starred at her with horror, she returned the gaze with shaken comfort. “Come, gather around with your siblings.” She said after she managed to compose herself. I walked towards her into the living room. “The president is dead. He was assassinated. The war has begun. The rebels have taken over.” A man in the radio spoke swiftly and at hardship. I had never been in a war, I thought. I wanted to walk to my father, ask him if war was like what my brother and I had. “You know they are coming for us next” he said with all the seriousness a man of his age could master.
A piercing sound ran across the room and suddenly the ground shook. The room was suddenly filled with coal dust and heavy warmth. I looked around me and I saw my uncle. Blood rinsed heavily in his mouth, while he chocked and shivered. I tried to scream but I could hardly let my voice out. I thought of God. And if He had been as scared as my uncle seemed.
No sooner had I realized it, than I was on top of a pick-up truck. I could only recognise my sister’s face from the dozen other strange faces. I looked beyond, and lifeless bodies scattered like decaying leaves. I tried to take it all in. So, I held my breath then begun to recall on the face of God. Maybe I could recognize him from the motionless figures that filled everywhere. I had to make sure that he was indeed dead.
I was not leaving him behind.