âJedidiah, it’s me, God. Are you listening?â
I perk up and try to focus. It’s been a while since God has talked to me. I whisper, just in case anyone else is in the computer lab with me, “yes.”
“Good. Jedidiah, listen closely and whatever you do, do not turn around.”
The deep, almost guttural voice coming from behind me exudes authority. A jealous God, mom used to say. Itâs not exactly what Iâd expect, but it is him. Of course, the last time God talked to me was when I was maybe twelve. Thatâs when I learned to trust God. He saved my life.
I had just thrown a strike at Lucky Lanes when I heard a calm voice from behind tell me to move. I jerked around to find the source of the voice, but there was no one within thirty feet of me. Having remembered stories from my momâs youth about avoiding disaster by following the voice of God, I decided to obey the voice. I walked briskly back to the benches where my friends gave high-fives, disconcerted by my hollow expression.
Timmy began walking to the ball dispenser for his turn when an overhead light fell down, crashing just feet from where he stood.
That’s when I knew it was God who had talked to me.
So here I am, years later in Southern Methodist Universityâs library computer lab at about 10:30 pm, working on an Econometrics assignment and God is talking to me again. When I got here a few hours ago, there was a smattering of kids here, books spread across tables, whiteboard markers squeaking, passionate whispering. The computer lab, where Iâve been camped out for at least three hours, has had a handful of students filter through. Some of them fellow Econometrics students.
Iâve never been ashamed of my faith. Iâve always taken pride in being God-fearing. So, resisting temptation, I obey. My ways are not your ways. I fix my gaze straight ahead and wait for my next instruction.
Thatâs when I notice Iâm not alone. A girl in a striped dress sits three rows in front of me. I recognize her from my Econometrics class. Rachel, I think.
âWhat do you need, God?â I whisper, hoping Rachelâor is it Rochelleâdoesnât hear me above the buzzing fluorescent lights and the occasional whir of computer fans.
God says nothing.
I feel my skin start to get hot, my mind running through all the things that God could be telling me.
Is my computer going to explode?
Did my mom die?
Rachel closes down her computer, gathers her things, and stands up, turning towards me. She takes a few steps forward before she notices me. âOh! Hey, Jed,â she says, flashing a polite smile.
I swallow, realizing I probably look nervous. âHeyââ
She stops in her tracks, her eyes narrowing as her gaze moves from my face to just above me. Her hand covers her mouth.
I start to turn around, as a reflex, to see what sheâs looking at when the voice stops me.
âNo,â God says.
Rachel whimpers, gives me one more glance and runs for the door. I hear the door squeak open and clap closed.
I take a deep breath. âGod?â I say, louder this time. âWhy canât I turn around?â
âYou remember what happened to Lotâs wife?â
âYes,â I say, remembering the first time I heard the story in Sunday School. What exactly is a pillar of salt? I asked Brother Collins. Faith, he said. A pillar of salt is faith? No, the point of the story is faith. We should have enough faith to trust in God no matter what. Turning away from God for even one second, as Lotâs wife did, could be fatal.
“Jedidiah, stand up and keep looking forward,” God says.
I obey, seeing that I am now alone in the lab. I listen closely for any activity outside in the library lobby. I think I hear the distance clicking of a keyboard but canât tell.
The computer monitor three rows ahead, where Rachel was sitting, flickers on displaying a security camera feed from the road in front of the library. The feed is motionless. I lean forward on the desk in front of me, focusing on the screen. After a moment, Rachel enters the screen from the bottom, stepping down the curb to cross the street. Her phone is up to her ear.
âLook closely,â God says.
âBut, does she need help? Why are you showing me this?â
âKeep looking, Jedidiah.â
Rachel stops in the middle of the road, phone still up to her ear. She slowly turns around and faces the camera directly. Her face transitions from terrified to somber and she puts her phone down.
A flash of headlights briefly enters the scene before a Mack truck slams into her, wiping the feed clean. The only thing left behind is a small spray of blood on the ground and her phone.
âOh, my gâwhat the heck!â I scream. An intense pit grows in my stomach and my heart starts pounding in my throat. Others had to have heard the crash. âGod, what are you doing? Tell me, please.â
âDid I do that, or did I let it happen?â The voice booms behind me, sounding impatient.
I try to steady my breathing. What could God possibly be trying to teach me? âWho are you?â I ask through clenched teeth.
âYou modern humans think you know me. You take far too much liberty upon yourselves to interpret my intentions. And I must say, you paint a very creativeâvery rosyâpicture of me.â
This canât be God. God wouldnâtâ
âI know what youâre thinking, Jedidiah. I always know what youâre thinking. I know everything you do. I saw the way you looked at that girl.â
âBut I didnâtâ”
âBy the way, her name isnât Rachel, it isnât even Rochelle. Itâs Nicki. Rachel is the girl who normally sits by her in class.â
That might be true.
âI see that deep empty cavern in your soul. You try to fill it with school, or with friends and love interests, and we all know how that goes.â
A door shuts in the distance.
âYou try to fill it with religionâwith me. Youâre not alone, by the way. Why do you think your mom and dad forced religion upon you from before you could walk?â
âBecauseââ
âYes, Jedidiah, because they also lived with that great void. Itâs why they named you Jedidiahâa Friend of God, by definition. Modern humans wear this facade as if they have found ways to cope with that void. But they havenât, not really. No one has. And you know why? Do you know why the void exists in the first place?â
My knees shake, my palms sweat. I glance around the room, looking for somethingâsome way to get out.
âJedidiah, do I need to remind you that I can read your thoughts? Focus on me please.â
âOkay, God.â My vision blurs as tears well up in my eyes.
âItâs death. Itâs always about death. Death waits around the corner for everyoneâevery living being. Yet no one knows what awaits them on the other side. People pretend to know, but no one actually knows. And itâs that unknowing that creates the cavernous void you all pretend to peacefully coexist with.â
Donât think about mom, donât think about mom.
âAh, yes. Your mother. Sweet Rebecca. She loves you dearly, doesnât she? Truly Christlike, that one. From what I understand, she has breast cancer, doesnât she? Caught it a bit late, huh? Maybe I should have spoken to you then. Wouldnât it be tragic if she died? Wouldnât it be tragic if she died tonight? From something completely unrelated to her condition? What if she decides to go on a late-night walk? I know Lorien Drive is a busy one. What if a newly licensed teenager coming home from a night on the town gets a text at the right time? From a girl heâs had his eye on? A text that canât quite wait until getting home. Hmmmm, let me see. Alan Waters meets that criteria. Heâs just stopped into Walgreens to buy a gallon of water. His friend Jaren told him that if he drinks a bunch of water after a night of partying, he wonât have a hangover the next morning. Heâs getting back in his car. Oh, and there goes your dear mother Rebecca, sheâs getting her shoes on right now.â
âNo, God, please. Why me? Why are you doing this to me?â
âBecause, Jedidiah, you need to face death. The only way to fill that void, or at least partially fill the void, is to look death straight in the face and confront it. I know that you are a weak one. You know that as well as I. But you have great potential. Consider this a favor. A little extra boost.â
âI know youâre not God. God wouldnât be doing this.â What am I supposed to do when faced with a demon? Something in the name of Jesus ChristâŚ
âI turned Lotâs wife into a pillar of salt, didnât I? Just for turning around. You believe that, right?â
I clench my fists.
âMr. Alan Waters is turning onto Lorien right now. Rebecca is two blocks east. Are you ready for this? Of course not. No one ever is. Now as this happens, I want yââ
âŚlook death straight in the face and confront itâŚ
I swing my body around, knocking over my chair. Floating just below the ceiling is a dark, scaly entityâa man whose dark face shimmers in the light, with deep black sockets for eyes and a gaping wide mouth stretched into a smile. His head is bald with tufts of black hair coming off the sides of his head. His chest and shoulders are covered with a black cloak.
âIn the name of Jesus Christ!â I yell.
He opens his mouth to speak, and an intense wave of heat blows my hair back. Black ink spews from his lips and his voice takes on guttural overtones. âBut what if I really am God? Then your little trick wonât work, Jedidiah, friend of God.â
The computer lab is overtaken by a hurricane of black dust and intense heat. I clench the desk in front of me, but itâs scalding hot. The ground begins to shake, and ceiling tiles begin falling, crashing all around me. Computers fall off tables, shattering on the floor. The overhead lights flicker and die. The entity grows taller and taller, his smile becoming penetratingly sinister.
For a moment, Iâm floating in the sky above my mother. Sheâs out for a walk, as I feared. Sheâs in a daze and I can tell sheâs been crying. I hear the screech of a car from just up the street. My mom darts her eyes up fearfullyâ
The fire alarm in the computer lab pierces the rumbling, growing louder by the second. The shaking intensifies. The entity opens its mouth wide and a thousand blood-curdling screams emanate from seemingly all directions, drowning out all else.
I lose feeling first in my feet and hands, then in my legs and arms, and then finally in my stomach and chest. I begin shrinking and my vision grows cloudy. I try screaming but canât get anything out. My hearing becomes muffled.
And then I taste salt.
Credit: Derek Walker (Official Website ⢠Amazon ⢠Reddit)
Check out Derek Walker’s premiere short horror story, 2,300 Steps: A Horror Short Story About Smartwatches, Unicorns & Sleepwalking, now available on Amazon.com.
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