What is hope? A question I asked myself daily when it failed me when I was suffering in its embrace.
Is hope not a fickle beast? It does what it loves and it eats whatever it wants whether it's your life, dreams or the light in your eyes, and the sad part is that you can't live without it. You can only live with hope, the fickle being that taunts you.
"What is Hope to you father?" I question the bleeding priest before me. "Is God your hope? Will he come to save you from your sins?" The priest screamed as he tried to crawl away from me. Both his legs were a stump from below his knees, I had cut them off at the Patella tendon…..along with his tongue, maybe I should have waited for his answers before I did that? But oh well that's life.
"Do you know what I hoped for father?" I say as I walk up to his slow crawl attempt to get out of the Church. "I hoped you wouldn't have been cruel, I hoped you would have been more what's the term for it religiously inclined. I had hoped you did what you preached, saved lives rather than destroy them. Look father" I say as I pick up his head and make him face his God.
"Even your God has forsaken you, don't you feel it? Your priestly powers didn't heal you did they? You're just a broken man now - abandoned by the thing you took the most pride in and having a "sinner" gloat over your bleeding soon to be corpse"
"I hate your God Father. I don't imagine God as all powerful, the most perfect being to ever exist, I hope there are days where even God weeps , where even God feels like he's a cruel being, where he sees misery and still let it be, I hope he regrets the days he's didn't intervene in, the screams of misery knocks where he sleeps.I hope God regrets the pain he did bring.I pray there are days where even God weeps."
*Splat* I slam his head hard on the church floor….. "so a squished priest head sounds like a rotten tomato? Got it" I say as I give a random thumbs up in the air?.....wait who am I even doing that for.
The Church of Justice, a God known for fairness but I forget justice is blind, unless the gold is shiny enough and the gifts can be felt from a touch. This is gonna be pretty funny when they wake up to find the corpse of this dumb bitch here.
"Hope was here" I write with the blood and intestines of our Mr perfect Father here.
Hope was here, at least it was supposed to be here, in the house of the God known for justice, but it wasn't there so I had to be Hope and sometimes hope is not gentle. Sometimes hope is the hand on your neck that's strangling you and bringing you to your knees. Sometimes hope is the hand clutching your heart that's slowly getting tighter till you die from it.
Sometimes hope is the mutilated corpse of an evil man in power. Sometimes hope is rebellion, sometimes you have to be Hope yourself.