I Think I found it
A man who doesn't have a heart, you can never win his soul.
I used to wonder why everyone told me I was too cold at heart until I realized that my problem with being human is complicated.
I saw this man approaching me with a smile on his face. I don’t know what is making him so excited, but he seems content.
I tried to read his face, the bushy hair, the white robe, and the book he placed in between his arm and armpit.
Everything looks like he love life as it is; he love to be under this sun, walking and having conversations with lost souls like me.
Only if he knew who I am, he wouldn’t be speaking to me about redemption.
Souls like mine have no desire to take walks in the path of forgiveness or dream of hope for tomorrow to be better than yesterday.
When I saw him, I knew he would talk to me. To him, it was glaring that I would need to be redeemed. With my ripped jeans and purple hair, I knew I couldn’t escape this.
"Young man, I see you have a problem."
"Erm, that’s true."
"I’ll like to pray for you."
"No, I don’t pray."
I have since found it hard to believe in a supernatural being, and I have lost peace with the absurdity of life.
Maybe it started when our house caught fire after the morning devotion or when I lost my girlfriend to cancer.
My expectations of the future are solely independent of faith; the remains of my faith from the past are so faint that you can hardly hear them breathe.
This man is puzzled. I tried to imagine what is going on in his mind—does he see me as a soul that needs to be conquered, one that needs help, or one that should rot in hell?
I wouldn’t know because I left before he could utter another word. I couldn’t bear to be in his presence; it brought back painful memories of how I used to be.
I, Daniel, an orphan who lost his parents to a raging fire, want nothing to do with a man of God.
Sometimes I blamed my parents for their deaths because of the constant invocation of fire fire whenever we pray: "Fire burn our enemy,” “Father Lord send a thunderous fire to my village people. My parents don’t stop; they go on and on, beaconing on the power of fire.
Other times, I blamed their deaths on me for not saying a truthful amen to all of their prayers. Maybe God thinks I’m a rebel and wants me to learn a lesson by taking away the things I love.
"Brother, you’re on a path of destruction, Jesus saves.”
I heard the man of God again, but this time I’m too far away to turn back. Everyone thought I needed saving, but I don’t see the need to.
"I hope you’re saved."
I knew it, everyone wants to save me. My uncle, my lecturers, and my dead girlfriend, everyone I know.
I keep walking towards my destination. And when I got there, I wished I could be in awe of the beauty of God.
I rested my shoulder on the arms of the bridge and admired the serenity of this water. I longed for this kind of peace. I wanted an escape, and I think I found it.
What do you think about this story? Let me know your thoughts in the comment section.
Thanks for reading Zero! Don’t forget to clap and follow for free to receive new posts and support my works.
