/lit/ - Literature

Rev. Gary's semi flaccid penis impaling a boy who looks like his son, and the guilt of not getting it between the cheeks, letting it go totally flaccid. His father announces himself just as he had when catching young Gary touching himself or one of his friends; and this demon voice in his head a holy moment before he realizes he must again ghost another boy, another lover lost to his wicked temperament. Heaven brought to bear on his hell, shining in awful splendor as though the distinction cannot now be made, a paradise so imposing that the man cannot lift himself from below without enjoying the escape from temptation. Yet he must if he is to go on, to keep certain like the others in his congregation that spend their days ruining lives of wicked men who does as he does, though proudly and without shame, which is why they must suffer, why he must contribute to the condemnation of himself. None could or ever would know for certain that these crimes against God's creation would receive their due punishment, and therefore it was up to him and his fellows - though none of the pretty ones - to care fore their souls by any way of detriment, bringing them closer to Christ. Rev. Gary himself, a buddy to that goofy plastic healer of mankind, acknowledged his ridiculousness with an exasperated sigh and pushed onward once his manhood had been restored by the silly savior's reflection and the vigor that came back into full strength in his hand. Today he would also finish with himself because tomorrow was the endtimes, the ride upon that red and blue donkey to the holy civil temple where he would give up his reverence and sit in a cold cell along with all those others. There he would be proud to have come back to hell where he belonged, to where heaven was achievable. No longer a predator to young boys, no longer the hypocritical holy man, but just a man who must be tortured so that his own children would be safe. God bless had fallen away to God condemns you, and that was peace on earth for all the little boys and girls, hatred back in place so that men like him could achieve redemption, so that he could continue. Blessings were not needed, as the boy Richard knew, as his wife Jenifer did speak; blessings were only curses in this world of sinners, egotistically levelers of grace that had made this horrendous life continue without even the congregation smiting him. Had it been true that God had absolved him to do these heinous acts when that spirit had taken him so long ago, or was it now that he could see what mischief and rage the Devil could perpetuate in humble words?