A Prayer From a Nameless Man

“Are you there, God? It’s me…”

I swallowed, holding back my name until it leaked through my trembling lips with a long sigh, eyes closed. At this point, my name didn’t matter. My status wasn’t going to help me anymore. 

I clasped my hands in prayer, fingers meshed tightly, knuckles whitened, trimmed nails digging into the backs of my hands. Archangels might’ve been gripping my neck with their mighty fists because my throat strangely tightened, unable to swallow.

My eyes burned, nothing but darkness behind their lids as I pictured all of them glaring at me, filling up the old church with their god-like presence.

Dozens of hard eyes, judging me, deciding my fate.

The air was muggy, and yet, I shivered, my bones ice-cold.

“I’ve never done this before,” I began, licking my lips. My knees grew sore, laying on the broken wood planks. I grunted, a sharp pain spreading from my right ribs to the rest of my chest, but ignored it. Instead, I opened one eye and squinted up to the beacon of light spilling inside the church.

Like an entryway up into heaven, the light touched the flowers with shimmering hope. Pink petals full and glossy, their stems bright green, a welcoming bed for me to crawl into and lie in until it’s all over. My breathing grew shallow, and I grit my teeth, fighting against the pain.

I was a man taught to believe there were Gods, Angels, mighty beings with miracles to conduct, eyes to watch the world destroy itself. Guiltily, I’ve helped with that. But I may as well be the only man in the world who believed in such a religion. After all, this church has been abandoned, the people turning their backs to it like it was all nonsense.

Well, I still believed there was a God.

It was all I had left.

“So, please, hear me out,” I gasped.

It was too much to sit on my knees. With a growing weakness, I fell forward, planting my palms to the floor with splinters already digging into skin.

I coughed. Splatters of blood smacked on the back of my hands. The sight truly frightened me, a powerful man never in such a position before.

And I thought I could never bleed.

 My vision blurred, the drop of blood appearing soft like red rose petals.

“Let me live,” I gasped, arms shaking to keep me up.

“I know, I’ve done so many wrongs. I-“ I winced, clutching to my abdomen where it leaked with a burning sensation.

“I was wrong,” I admitted in a sharp whisper. Sweat dripped down my cheek, and I looked up, shaking and panting. Of course, now I’ve picked the time to ask for help from the Almighty. Of course, I've come crawling to Him with a wounded tail between my legs. I’ve never worshiped, prayed, nor devoted myself to His existence before. It was just a background thought, a silent belief without so much as awareness, thinking that was all I required as a pass.

But I’ve been wrong.

“I need your help,” I revealed.

I snapped my eyes shut, and tears fell, mixing with the blood until it looked more like wine.

“I promise, I will be good,” I assured, holding back the heavy flow behind a fragile dam. It was weakening, my eyes leaking, no matter how hard I tried to keep them sealed.

I reached, shaky hands smacking the floor, gripping at wood and hard dirt underneath that, and dragged myself closer to the flower bed.

“I will stop the power plants,” I breathed.

Drag.

“I will stop the indulgences.”

Drag.

“I will stop the tortures, the spread of fear…”

Drag.

“Stop ending innocent lives for my benefit.”

As I carried myself weakly across the church, trails of blood smeared behind my worn shoes. The closer the beam of light, the more blood that spilled, as though They wanted an exchange for my efforts before even considering me.

I stopped for a minute, my hands, and feet growing numb. The tiny pricks quickly traveled up my arms and legs, and it became more difficult to breathe.

With my forehead resting on wood, I let out a disgruntled sigh, teeth clenched and eyes shut tight to endure through the waves of pain in my core.

I wasn’t going to make it. I just wanted to touch the light, to feel its heat and see its glow behind the back of my eyelids. It took great effort to lift my bruised face back up, and used my arms when my entire legs paralyzed.

I tried not to panic, not yet.

My stubbornness ignited a mighty flame, encouraging me to keep going until I could touch the flowers in my hand. So soft. I don’t think I’ve ever touched real flowers before, a man raised in an industrial world, his surroundings all artificial and cold.

Now I felt one, a simple plant in my hand, and yet, alive. How? How could something so small and so fragile be alive? Did flowers feel pain? Did they bleed or feel hunger?

Being under the light, the leaves were warm and silky, as though giving me a gentle hand.

Tears blurred my vision, and all the flowers turned into bright pink blobs. I gasped, rubbing at my eyes quickly, and I blinked back at the petals. The light was so warm, for a moment, it almost burned, the sun rays penetrating my skin, making it appear like glass.

I lifted my hand up, to see if I could find the light cutting through it. No, but it beamed bright orange, its outline made of gold.

Just a little more.

I tried not to dig too aggressively into the flowers, digging my nails into the soil to latch onto and pull myself closer.

“I’ve hurt so many people,” I whispered, tears and blood spreading into the garden bed.

“I loved someone, and yet…”

With the last of my strength, I pushed myself up, hacking more globs of blood. It spread on the petals, red on pink, and yet still glistened under the light. Anything looked beautiful under such light.

I groaned through my teeth, falling back to my knees and raising my wet face up to the hole in the ceiling of the church. It was blinding, but I wanted a look anyway, burning my blue eyes with its mighty glare.

“I could only give pain. I don’t know how to love,” I whimpered up to the light.

It basked me with its incredible embrace, soaking my damaged business suit to melt away all the ash, blood, and soot.

I tried to smile as the dam inside me cracked. It was no use, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I wept.

“Please. I promise, I will be good from on,” I told Them. My face was on fire, crisping to its heat that I never knew could also be so pleasing.

How magnificent to have my insides warm up, like they’ve been cold since I was born.

“Please?” I raised my clasped hands up to a God I imagined was looking down on me, pass the roof, pass the city’s infrastructure, pass the clouds and beyond space and time.

It hurt to sit tall, my body fighting against it.

“Please, let me live,” I wheezed.

Breathing quickened, and my arms fell, hands smacked into the flowers, unintentionally harming them.

And then, finally, I collapsed. My head banged into petals and soil, followed by the rest of me. Feeling like am embryo, I curled up, warm under the beam like being inside a womb, protected and loved for the first time.

“So…” I cracked, blood slipping over my tongue. I coughed, more of it splattering like tiny specks of rubies.

“…this is what it…feels like…” I closed my eyes. The pain, the numbness, the burning, all of it suddenly vanished. What came after, was a heaviness, like I’ve been given a heavy sedative.

“The light. It…feels…nice.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t afraid anymore, but strangely, relieved.

Of all places, I dragged my injured body here.

My company is finished.

My city, finished.

Me?

I closed my eyes.

Finished.