Fallen Hope

Fallen Hope
The doors screeched as the boy open them. The old church smelled of dust and death, and not of the hopes of the living. The wood pews were cracked and the bibles that they held were torn. The boy walked to the alter and looked into the face of God. He looked into the face of everything he had come to hate. The boy looked up and smiled. “Enter all those who have no faith and hope.” He said these words as though they were the words he had come to live by.
“That\'s what it is suppose to say on the gates of hell isn’t?” He asked the statue as though it could answer. “They seem more fitting for this house of god, don’t they?” The boy turned and walked to the front pew. He removed a bible from its holding place and took a seat. “Why is it that so many people live there lives by what is written in these books?” He asked as he looked up at the statue. “What? ‘You can’t even answer that?” He closed the bible and began to laugh. “If you ask me, these books are nothing but a bunch of fairytales, meant to scare little children into being good little boys and girls.” As he finished saying this, the boy took the bible and threw it at the statue, only to have it hit it and fall to the ground. “I am not a little boy anymore, I don’t believe in fairytales and I don’t believe in you.” He looked at the statue as though it was mocking him. “Answer me!” He yelled as he stood up and fell to his knees.
Tears began to run down his face. “So many other’s can so easily believe in you.” He looked at the statue in anger. “They believe in you even though they have never seen you, but yet they claim your there.” The boy began to cry more violently now. “I have asked only one thing of you.” He tilted he’s head up to met the eyes of the statue, he wanted to look into the eyes of the enemy. “All I asked was for you to watch over and protect me.” The boy fell over and was now laying on the cold tile floor. “Was that to much to ask?’ ’Was I not worthy of your grace?” He wiped the tears from his face and stood back up. “Some people still have hope that you are there watching over us.’ ’I have lost all hope in being happy in this life.” He walked back up to the alter and placed his hands on it. “I have never known love, nor will I ever; I now see that I was meant to walk alone, I was meant to die alone.” The boy ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “ For some hope is enough, but for someone like me it was all I had left.’ ’Now I have nothing to keep me here, I have nothing holding me back from that step off the edge and ending my life.” He reached out to the statue and touched its feet. “Hope is not enough, not anymore.” He turned to leave, but stopped as he saw the preacher watching from the back. “Hello Father, how are you today?” As he said this he drew a knife from his back pocket. “Danyel you cannot turn your back on God, even in the darkest times.” The preacher walked towards him unaware of the knife in Danyel’s hand. Danyel walked to the preacher and embraced him in a hug. “He turned his back on me first.” He kissed the preacher on the forehead and drove the knife into his stomach. “Go to him father and tell him I am coming and hell is coming with me.” The preacher fell to the ground and slowly began to die. Danyel looked and saw a little girl walking into the church. “Hello.” The little girl cried out. “Are you here to pray?” He asked her as he walked toward her. The girl looked up at him and saw the bloody knife. “You shouldn’t play with knives.” The girl said as she looked at Danyel. “Your right.” He took the knife and placed it in his pocket. “Are you here to pray?” The girl asked him. “No, I grew up.’ he smiled at her ’and so will you.”