He Died For Your Sins
by Derrick Rushlo

It was the kind of day that broke thermometers, a day so hot that rain drops fizzled into steam before they could hit the ground. If there is one universal truth out there in the mass of chaos called Earth, it is the fact that no matter how hot it is children will still run around like maniacs on a heavy dose of speed.

That day was no exception, and he could see the children on the playground swing sets. Even though it must have been nearly two thousand degrees on the surface of that slide, children still took the long run down. He watched
from his window. It always fascinated him how these young children could ignore the rest of the world's diseases and just go about their lives like everything was peachy keen.

With car bombers, people killing abortion doctors, serial killers, robberies, drug heads, skinheads, priests molesting children, small pox, AIDS, and any other number of equally dreadful things existing in this world why in the hell would these children have the balls to play he wondered.

He turned away from the window and sat back down, he didn't want to be reminded of the children's utter stupidity. "It's all the parent's faults."

Sitting down on his couch he looked up at the wall above his fireplace, his eyes focused on the cross. "He died for your sins, his blood you drink, and his body you eat. He died for your sins so your ignorant ass could exist."

He looked back at the window and he could still see the children romping around the playground. A field of red arose in his vision.

"He died for your sins, his blood you drink, and his body you eat. He died for your sins so your pathetic ass could exist."

The cross moved in his field of vision, Jesus writhed in pain, and in his mind, he could hear the spikes being driven into the man's arms. He could feel the fire growing in his stomach.

He smashed his arms against the table. "He died for your sins, his blood you drink, and his body you eat. He died for your sins so your worthless ass could exist."

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and upper lip. It trickled down his nose and onto the floor. He moved with a purpose now, to the hallway closet. In the closet, he pulled out the long velvet box. In a soft but firm voice, he said, "He died for your sins, his blood you drink, and his body you eat. He died for your sins so your heathen ass could exist."

He pulled the box open slowly. Inside the box, was something covered in red silk. He pulled away the silk exposing a long wooden shaft. At the end of the shaft was a sharp metal point. He had purchased the spear at a renaissance fair last year. They assured him even though it was for decoration that it was sharp enough to do damage. He ran his hand over the tip pricking his finger accidentally.

"He died for your sins, his blood you drink, and his body you eat. He died for your sins so your forsaken ass could exist." He placed his finger in his mouth and spit the blood out. He could still taste the copper blood when he
pushed the front door open.

With Spear in hand, he crossed the street; remarkably, the area was empty except for the children playing at the playground. His long strides enabled him to catch the first child off guard.

He grabbed a little boy by the wrist and spun him around. "He died for your sins." He thrusted the spear forward running the tip through the child's stomach and pulled it out.

The boy let out a small gasp, which might have been an attempt to scream, but before he could let anything out, the man stepped down hard on the boy's throat. The other children screamed and started running in many different
directions.

The man chased down a little girl, grabbed her by the waist, and shouted into her face "He died for you sins, you drink his blood." He tossed her to the ground and kicked her hard in the ribs; a gunshot like crackle followed the kick signaling the breaking of at least four of her ribs.

He moved back to the boy's body and pulled the spear free. He charged across the soccer field toward the last child he still saw in the area. He nearly got there when he heard the first voice. "Freeze," it echoed loudly in his ears, and he spun around. A woman stood in police blues a service revolver pointed at his chest. "Drop the spear."

He took a step forward.

"I said drop the spear."

"I will die for your sins, you will drink my blood child, and you will eat my body. I will die," he took another step forward the spear raised above his head, "for your sins so your."

"Drop it!" The police officer shouted again, but the man took another step forward. Her nerves got the best of her, and she squeezed the trigger once. The bullet cut him deeply under the chin burrowing into his throat, and knocking him to the ground.

She dropped her revolver, and pulled her radio out "Unit 2 requests backup, and an ambulance. Hurry we have a major problem at the school yard."

She scooped up her revolver and moved toward the man, the weapon still pointed at his prone body. Each step she took seemed to last an eternity to her. She was right up on the body when the other officers arrived, followed closely by the ambulance.

The two children died that day and the man Raymond Cosgrove was pronounced dead at the scene. That Sunday the church was empty, the head priest Raymond Cosgrove was not available to give his sermon, and no one was certain why things had gone so wrong on that hot horrible day.

©2002 Derrick Rushlo

Derrick Rushlo is a 24 year old college student, working on his first novel. Visit his web site: www.members.cox.net/harker
Questions, comments, concerns can be sent to harker@cox.net