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To be a light in the dark. A man lacking in faith dies in a society where religion has fallen to Atheism, and is reborn in a dark fantasy where a mysterious dark fog threatens all. . . . For a mark of a cross ordains his hand, he is an Apostle to a God unknown to this world. (Original title was 'The Apostate,' but the name was taken already) Author’s Note: It could have worked for any religion or a made up religion, but I know Christianity better so it centers around it. The story about an apostle in a dark fantasy was something on my mind for a while.
The measure of one's faith, is a measure of their conviction.
With the prevalence of science, and the decline of theology, it was only a matter of time before religion faded into history.
To pray when there is no answer, and to believe when there is no assurance of certainty are concepts difficult to adhere towards. Few if any can say that their faith had never wavered, and fewer still were those that believed when mankind and science fielded the way to the stars.
Human innovation and development overshadowed any of the old ways, and with the deaths of the older generation, even the most stubborn believers of God could no longer act as a voice to the new.
Religion was dead, and those who clung to it, a forgotten breed.
Perhaps that was why a young man who lay dying on the road did not fear death. To the very end, he'd tried to put faith and conviction into his belief, but all his life there had been no answer.
Near him, a pale truck driver screamed at a crowd, trying desperately to absolve himself of blame.
The young man rolled his head to face the sky.
Did heaven hide among the clouds like the old bible said, or was this retribution of a different sort?
Do not steal, do not do to others what you would not do to yourself, love your neighbor, various precepts came to the young man's mind, some of which he followed, many more that he didn't.
He grew up poor, unable to afford books, and unwilling to spend too much on entertainment. Instead, he read parts of the bible inherited from his great grandfather's collection.
Nevertheless, he found himself drawn back to the words he'd once read while he lay dying. As a child, he'd had faith, but that faith was now chipped and eaten away with time. Now in death, he no longer prayed for salvation.
Like always, it would go unheard, but maybe this time it could be different?
A laugh almost escaped his lips. It was funny. Only when it could benefit was his belief strongest and at its worst.
Very well, he'd leave it all to the creator's hands.
If thy kingdom comes beyond this life, let it deliver him from evil.
He was cold, yet he did not shiver.
He was resigned, yet he did not lose his awareness.
His attention blearily focused on a light glowing within his darkening gaze.
His eyes closed for the last time.
Is death truly salvation? Or was it a sin, punishment of a belief broken and shattered?
Lord, have you forsaken us?
He was the final believer in a society that had lost its faith.
