gods revenge

I walk into my house after a long day, and I see a painting. The origin unknow, I've never seen this thing in my life. The contents looked like bodies, torn apart, bloody and gruesome. the color of it all seeming to be the artists second nature. The bodies were sprawled, some running, some torn apart, some being trampled and some just standing, looking at whatever they were all running from as if there was no escape anymore.

There were guts everywhere there, they were so realistic too. Too realistic, as if it was a picture rather than a painting. The trees were black, and burnt. The houses were on fire, and there were people burning too. Who put this in my house? I looked around, There was no looks of a breaking. I sighed, and looked at the painting, I could've sworn something had changed. But I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

I stepped closer to it, It looked so real that it might have been moving. The sky in the painting was red, but not that beautiful sunrise or sunset red. a deep red that reminded me of half dehydrated rotting flesh. The artists skills were impeccable, but why the fuck was it in my house? I don't have a roommate. I touched the painting, feeling the cool canvas bend under my touch. The pain was smooth under my fingertips, It felt soothing for some reason.

suddenly, the canvas grew warm, and the texture changed into the feeling of a body. The colour of the painting shaded entirely into a deep, blood red. I tried to take my hand away, but a hand thrust out of the painting, it grabbed my wrist. I tried to yank my hand back, but another came, grabbing me by the forearm, There was no escape. I tried to punched them with my left hand, but another hand grabbed my other arm. yanking me into the painting, I shut my eyes tightly.

The sound of the canvas tearing flooded into my ears, I felt something hit my head, I felt the canvas around my neck. I opened my eyes, my head had gone through the canvas. But it probably looked like I just slammed my head into it. The question still stands, where did it come from? What was that hand? Why can I barely stand all of a sudden?

I took my head out of the canvas, overwhelmed with exhaustion, maybe I could spend tomorrow figuring it out. I walked to the kitchen, feeling slightly dizzy. Why was I suddenly so tired? I looked at the time, it was 1 in the morning. What the fuck? It was 6 when I got home!

I grabbed water, still dizzy from exhaustion, What day is it then? Im incredibly hungry, thirsty, and tired. I checked the date, A whole day and a half passed, thankfully it was my weekend so I didn't miss anything important. I walked to my bed, to sleep.

I flopped into my bed, genuinely not caring if I fell asleep for 12 hours or more. I fell asleep almost the second my head hit the pillow. But the feeling of fear never left. But I really couldn't do anything right now, my body felt like it was suddenly made of lead.

I was awoken by screaming, I sat up. i felt a breeze against my face, the sky was red, just like in the painting. underneath me was grass, and parts of it were also red, as if something had died here or someone. many things even, the red was everywhere.

I stood up, the grass squishing softly under my feet, but I was quickly greeted with severe pain. something, many somethings stabbed into my feet, I looked down seeing the ground shimmer, Glass was everywhere. I looked around, the trees were black and dead, burned and gross looking. I saw houses, they were on fire, all of them. There was a massive group of people running.

They were screaming, running directly down the path I was standing in. I tried to warn them about the glass, but they didn't speak English. They kept running, screaming, and when they reached the glass, they screamed louder, but they didn't stop running, well not most of them. some of them just turned around, and looked up.

I turned to run, I didn't bother looking at the thing they were running from. But every step I too hurt more than the last, until finally I was out of the glass area, I was catching up with the foreign people. They pointed up ahead, as if there was safety up ahead. But I saw nothing but grass, blood spotted and splashed grass.

We kept running, every now and again we would hear someone scream, Followed by a couple of sobs, Someone had died every time there was a scream. Eventually I was the last person alive, there were voices, taunting me. Laughing at me, telling me me to look at them, I knew it was a trap of some sort.I felt something touch the back of my neck, I shivered. I kept running.

I jolted awake, sitting up in my bed, breathing heavy. The painting! I scrambled up and sprinted out of my room into the living room, the painting was fixed, and it had changed. They eyes were always looking at me, no matter where I was in the room. They started whispering, "god is coming, god is coming"

They said this over and over again, gradually getting louder, their faces morphing into a sadistic grin, they grew horns and pointed at me. Soon it was as if they were screaming, there were sounds from outside. Screaming, from the Christians and all the religious. they screamed and begged for forgiveness. Then I realized, that's what the painting showed, what it was representing.

Humans and their greed, our need to sin, the fact we have all sinned. "GOD IS COMING!!!" The screaming grew too loud to ignore, too loud to drown out. "GOD IS HERE!!!!!" I rushed outside, looking up. There it was, the creature I had seen in the painting dream. the creature with many wings and eyes, there are many more. We had sinned far to much to be forgiven, even by God, for he was here, and he wanted to cleanse his world of all of this sin.

God is here, and we are all going to die, and its only our own fault.