Tuesday, April 12, 2011

The Rapture

This morning is not what I thought it would be. There are no mobs of the wicked in the streets raping and killing and worshiping daemons. It's quiet outside. Perhaps the sinners are in their closets begging for forgiveness.

Lord, please forgive me, forgive my doubt.

I've always looked forward to the day of the rapture, waiting eagerly to be raised to Heaven. But when the moment came my faith wavered. I broke and ran. For in all my my dreams of that glorious day I had never imagined that the chosen would be lifted from the Earth by tentacles.

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