The Atheist

A blue plain, a black mountain up ahead; he stopped, looked, listened. Intently he changed direction, broken by the weight of thoughts. Stopping, he looked around, the colours in the sky changed again. Anger overwhelmed him. For what did this God have for him?

He looked around, his brethren sat silently, paying no mind to changes overhead. His eyes darkened as he saw yet another structure placed about the ground miles away. God did not do that, they said. But from the whence the light came such structures continued to fall, for this was a new world they said, unhindered by the troubles of their own.

Thump, thump, thump.

He gazed upwards, the figure in the sky seemed to be moving, laying itself out against the white sky. Suddenly, darkness. 

If God exists, why does he allow the floods that wipe out his kin? The disasters of the flesh? Why does it sometimes stay dark, for years? 

Suddenly, the figure reappeared, he found himself being pulled up toward it, he saw a face unlike anything he had ever seen before. 

He asked it the question.

It smiled and he burst into flame.

It smiled.


He closed his eyes.

Is this it? Is it just a that? Is that all there is?


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