The doors of the church closed behind me as the congregation quieted for the baptismal service. Shivering, a woman stepped into the water. The pastor plunged her under. She came up shouting. I thought, Finally, a church with some Spirit.
Eyes heavenward, she announced, “That water’s cold!”
I sighed deeply.
Eddie D. Moore travels extensively for work, and he spends much of that time listening to audio books. The rest of the time is spent dreaming of stories to write and he spends the weekends writing them. His stories have been published by Jouth Webzine, The Flash Fiction Press, Every Day Fiction, Theme of Absence, Devolution Z, and Fantasia Divinity Magazine. Find more on his blog
As the present world came to an end, things did fall apart.
Masses of now-believers were loosed on the streets. Some wept, some prayed, some turned to the Beast… and some held up signs to the heavens pleading, “Take me!”
God yawned, and chose the ones with the biggest signs.
Alison is not as much of a cynic as this story would insinuate, but rather was influenced by a vivid dream, and the famous Yeats poem “The Second Coming.” She is currently busy working on her sign.
About to drink her non-alcoholic communion wine, Jane thought she was certain of exactly two things.
God loved her,
God is in the details.
However, if both those things were true, why did her husband leave her at the altar to be with Greek Leon from the HR department?
John is an English and Creative Writing graduate who splits his time evenly between writing, reading, and procrastinating. He very much hopes that one day the burden of reading his work will be taken off his family and friends and placed onto the general public.
I’ve never been one for salvation. And being baptized in a sink in some god-forsaken prison seemed a bit desperate.
The pastor, though, was certain. He had written an essay and sent a check. Now, his paper cross could save us sinners. He would forgive what the dead never could.
J. Ian Manczur wrote this story.
I saw the child in the church where he’d taken refuge. An atheist myself, I wondered at his old-fashioned notion of sanctuary.
He pretended not to see me, but I knew he could. I waited for the boy to show himself. At last he came weeping to me, another unbeliever.
Paul Jenkins is director of library services at the College of Mount St. Joseph in Cincinnati Ohio.
A male Jew and a female Muslim, both in their early twenties, were standing in a battle field holding guns against each other’s heads.
The Jew said, “If there were no religion, we might be dancing happily with each other right now.”
The Muslim replied, “In your club, or mine?”
Saeed Rezaee, from Iran, holds a B.A. in English Translation and shares his creative writing at teanglish.com.
Winter. Thick snowflakes were making an exodus from the wombs of the clouds.
“Existence is suffering, but I believe our essence lives on and ascends to the Cloud Mother to be reborn,” said Seth Snowflake. “Life is a cycle.”
“That’s stupid,” said Sam Snowflake. “Life sucks, and then you melt.”