“It’s not fair.”
Joseph hung from the shackles. Any semblance of fight had long ago left his weakened body as he knelt on the cold ground and shook his head endlessly.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He made us in his image. He gave His child for our sins.”
He sobbed, the motion turning into racking coughs as his chest ached from where the branding iron had left it’s mark. The walls were stone, rough hewn and barren and yet he could hear the sound of the engines powering the ship of the line. He was in space, closer to God than ever before and yet the only images before his eyes were of Inquisitions and inquests.
“The Father has no image, but what he chooses,” it said.
Joseph flinched at the voice. Like a child who had received an electric shock from his favourite toy, now theology meant only more pain. More suffering. The creature stopped before him, dragging a taloned finger along the curve of a wicked looking blade.
“He came to your world. He uplifted your kind. A king who dared to elevate a tribe to the level of the stars.” The blade bit at Joseph’s side, cutting through the fat that had accrued through years of lethargy. “And you butchered his child. Like a petulant pup banging rocks against that which moves along the ground.”
“We beg forgiveness. Every day.”
It snickered. The face was hideous, demonic. Fervent. Joseph sighed in peace as he felt the pain begin to ease away. Days, weeks, time had held no meaning as they tortured him to learn of his flock. Of all the people of Earth.
“Do not confuse your own absolution with contrition.”
The blade sank deeper. Joseph could feel it now, deep within his chest. Burning even as his body felt so very cold.
“The Father is not.”
Prompt originally posted by Unknown on reddit and received 12 upvotes.