Storymania - For Gods Sake by Buxton

For Gods Sake
Buxton

I could have it better. Why did I have to say the things I said?

Wishing for the edge of a cliff, only, when push came to shove I resisted the push and blocked the shove hoping that any mistakes I would make in the future were going to be apart of the subconscious I was falling in upon, I was so lost.

Walking the rainy streets of dark night, wondering through time zones, through realms of wisdom I never had, through minds, past people that looked scared of everything that came their way. The laws of logic wiped the smiles from their faces and made them feel like they were trapped in a dimension they couldn't even perceive. When I reached my destination I couldn't see it. When I looked back on memories of how I reached this place I couldn't remember. The rain became louder and the wind whistled past my freezing ears that ached internally. Where was I?

"God" I remember saying with a hint of fear, because I was actually standing in front of him.

How did I know it was god?

I didn't. But he certainly looked the part. From all the books, the pictures, the T-shirts I had seen throughout my life it looked like him. Was it?

'No' I answered to myself.

'Why am I talking to myself?' I asked.

'Dunno' I answered.

I still had a flutter of something rumbling through my stomach as if I was going to jump from a high distance. This man. This figure of what appeared to be a human man standing in front me blew slightly in the dark wind. The vague outline of a toga approached me through the hard night. It was God. What was I doing in front of God? Holy Shit, was this my judgement?

"Hey!"

"HEY!"

I awoke. A man next to me pushed my chin away from his shoulder. I noticed a clear trail of water like substance followed the motion from my mouth. Crap.

"Do you mind?" he asked. It was more of a statement reacting to me leaning on his shoulder. He reached into the top pocket of his beige jacket and pulled a handkerchief and wiped away the Salvia that had collected on his shoulder, whilst I quickly wiped away my participation in the pending embarrassment.

"Bloody disgusting" he grunted as he cleaned it off in one fluent motion and looking me in the eye.

"Um…sorry dude. I feel asleep" I tried to be polite to keep the man happy but he was certainly not in the mood to be entertained with tales of sorrow.

"Excuse me" he said as he got up and left. I tried to engage in further converse with him, maybe try to rectify the situation of my bodily fluid ending up on his shoulder. But this man had made up his mind. The fight or flea response had truly taken over and he fled as if bitten and burrowed by an insect. I had come to expect this reaction from people, but not when I was asleep. Aw well.

As I stretched my legs out and yawned a ray of sunlight slid through the windows of carriage D and into my eyes rendering me temporarily blind. The exasperating motions and noises of the train that had always sent me to sleep now were the only senses I could use. Apart from that overwhelming smell of cheap cotton that had been sat upon thousands of times that often made me wonder how many times it had been farted upon as well. I continued to listen to the 'kudda-da-da thunk, kudda-da--da thunk' of the train on its ever-ageing track waiting for the train to turn out of the suns ray and give me my sight back. Now that I had both seats I could get a proper sleep without the aggravated worry of attacking someone with my saliva, only for them to take an un-called for hissy fit and walk away out of my life forever. Such is life.

I could feel the train begin to turn and with the turn the sunlight began to swerve accordingly across the carriage and out of my eyes. As I regained my vision I could see this man standing there. I first thought it was the man coming back to reclaim his seat, having just been to the toilet or wherever, but it wasn't. It was someone who later on found Out to be God.

"THE TRAIN IS ABOUT TO ENTER DUNDEE, WOULD ALL PASSENGERS PLEASE MAKE SURE THEY HAVE ALL THEIR BELONGINGS AND PLEASE WAIT UNTIL THE TRAIN HAS CAME TO A COMPLETE STOP BEFORE DISCHARGING THE CARRIAGE. WE WOULD LIKE TO TAKE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO THANK YOU FOR TRAVELLING WITH VIGIN TRAINS AND HOPE YOU WILL CHOOSE US ON YOUR NEXT RAIL ADVENTURE"

The announcement stopped. The man was just standing there looking at me. I initially assumed he was departing the train and was just looking out of the window towards the oncoming station. But on second glance he was looking at me. What the fuck is he looking at I was screaming in my mind. He had one of those weird stares that made me cringe.

"Graeme?" He said.

'How the fuck does he know my name' I asked myself as I pretended not to hear him whilst I looked out the window at the oncoming station thinking I would be able to run off the train if he tried to do something. There were plenty of witnesses here if anything did happen.

"Graeme, I'm not going to hurt you. You won't need to run off the train." He said.

'MMMkay. That's weird' I thought still facing the window, desperately hoping the shimmering reflection I had of him would fade away to the other side of the carriage.

"Not as weird as what you're about to receive" He said. Just standing there, about 2ft from my seat.

"Who are you?" I asked as I turned to him. I didn't really care who he was I just wanted him to go away.

I stood up to face him, although he was taller than I was I could take him for sure. He was older, therefore had less knowledge about my generation's agility in a fight, something he would find out if he took a step closer. If he knew me he could have said so; but it was like he was reading my thoughts and it began to get on my nerves.

"I do know you, you don't know me however" he said as he took a step closer to me.

The final nudge of the train stopping caught a few of the passenger's off-guard as they collided with each other. The doors opened, and like sardines from a tin they spewed out onto the platform. Most of the crowds were departing the train on one of the final stops towards Aberdeen. I was going to Aberdeen and had an extra hour on this train, if this crazy man was onboard after Dundee I would consider moving carriages or perhaps even locking myself in the toilet for the remainder of the journey. It would be better than knocking him out cold and possibly breaking a bone in his ageing body. But if it happened it was his own fault.

But this dude was old. I mean he was at least 60 and seemed to be harmless, but I always hated people staring at me, I always found it threatening for whatever reason. But he seemed soft. He had a short trimmed beard and was wearing some fairly casually clothes and donning a Bowler hat to match his age, but one thing was certain, I had no idea who this guy was. He almost looked like David Attenborough but not quite.

As the passengers departed from the train a bead of sweat trickled down my back as I looked at the man who was holding a couple of people up behind him, they looked a little anxious. I don't know if it was my face that made them anxious or the fact they wanted off the train but couldn't because of this man barrier blocking them. Just as the one of the couple went to ask for the man to move they seemed to have a complete change of mind and walk the extra distance to the other side of the carriage to depart the train.

Carriage D had only a few passengers left. Apart from God and myself. A couple sat at the other end of the carriage, within hearing levels, but out-with muffled screaming level if the situation should require it.

"Stop worrying Graeme. I am not going to hurt you. You know, I always usually get a cup of tea or some sort of scone when I visit Scotland" He said as he took off his bowler hat and motioned towards the extra seat next to me.

I like to think of myself as a fairly open-minded person but this was a direct infringement on my space. Nearly every seat in the carriage was empty yet he wanted to sit next to me in the small 2-seated section next to the back of the carriage.

"Your right. Let's stretch our legs a bit." He then turned his back and sat down on a 4-seater with the table in the middle that still had the junk from the ex-passengers. To say the least this man was definitely reading my thoughts, whether I was drawn to him because he was God or because he could read my mind has yet to be finalised but something drew me to his table. And so I sat.

"How do you know me?" I immediately asked.

He let out a small laugh. A certain air of confidence resonated from the laugh as he placed his overcoat and hat on the seat next to him.

"Your Graeme David Buxton." He answered without losing breath from the laugh.

After I scanned my memory for a picture of the man without success I needed to know how he knew me. I instantly checked to see if my wallet was where I left it; in my back pocket. It was.

"OK, look. I obviously have no idea who you are. But you're really making me nervy over here." I said truthfully looking at him.

"Where do I begin. I suppose if you're going to be truthful, I better do the same."

He took a second, as if he was giving a speech and was waiting for the anticipation to grow.

"I'm God" He answered.

"God?" I replied as quickly as the answer had came.

"That's right. God"

After I laughed for a couple of seconds I began to wonder why he had known my thoughts and whether he could picture my latest series of thoughts.

"I love those Scones you Scots do. Especially with some of that fantastic Strawberry jams. Do you have any?" he asked, as I was in mid-thought, trying to think of something that would make him detest the thoughts I had, but the question had came as a surprise and tilted my thoughts off course.

"What? No. I hate Scones" I replied.

"Wait a minute. If your God then you would have known that I don't like Scones, and wouldn't have asked me if I had any, which in itself would be drastically weird if I did, but I don't"

"Maybe I knew the only thing you hated was Scones. Maybe that’s why I asked you if you had any in the first place" He replied with a quick tongue.

"But I hate plenty of foods." I replied just as quick.

"Do you? Like what?" He continued.

I don't know why I got involved in a conversation about foods I hated but it certainly was a distraction, if not an Icebreaker. Kinda weird now that I look back on it.

"I can't think of anything right now. But I do hate other foods. Anyway. What the hell? You're not God" I exclaimed realising the extent of such a proposition.

"How do you know that" God asked.

"Well. Like everything else. I don't really know, but it makes more sense for you not to be God rather than being him"

His hands opened up as if to question my answer.

"Have you met God?" He asked

"Not lately" I sarcastically replied as I looked out onto the sunny shire of Scotland that flew by at a rate of miles.

"If your God. Then do something. Transport me to"

I never even finished the sentence and we were there. In Taiwan.

"Taiwan" I started the sentence on a train in Scotland. Now somehow I was in Taiwan.

"OH MY FUCKING CHRISTING BOLLOCKS. WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK? HOLY SHIT. HOW THE FUCK. YOU'RE GOD? HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT? SERIOUSLY. I left my jacket on the train"

When conversing with God. Try and remain calm as possible, as he has seen it all before. Humans are unable to contemplate the extreme impossibilities that become possible within less than a nano-second. Although you may swear a lot, God has heard every profanity from those able to use the language. And although he doesn't mind swearing, he tries not to promote it in front of small Taiwanese Children.

Hyperventilating is the usual outcome of such an amazing change of events. Usually followed by fainting. Which unfortunately for Graeme was the next course of action.

'Kudda-da-da thunk, kudda-da--da thunk'
As I came too, I could see the blurry figure of what was God in front of me. My mind, heart and most of my bodily fluids stood on end as I realised what just happened.

"You just fainted" a voice spoke over the dreary relaxing tones of the train.

"I don't believe in you" I replied.

"You can't be real. What the hell am I doing talking to you?" I began to get pretty leery, as I knew God didn't exist. I had proven it. I had conclusive evidence that God did not exist. Yet here I was recovering from a Taiwanese experience. Did that just happen? Was I drugged? That doesn't happen, in the real World. Oh my God, have I just had some sort of breakdown. Is this what craziness is?

"Tell me what's going on?" I asked with a hint of fear in my voice.

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you. And I haven't. Your thoughts were beginning to hurt my feelings, and so."

"And so what. You just take me to Tai fucking wan. You can't just fuck with someone's head like that. Can you?" I was really and totally unsure of myself at this point. I could feel this sickness come over me, like a hangover but without the fun night before.

"Look Graeme. You wanted verification that I was God. I gave you that. Now I am here to ask you why you want to slap me in the face?" his words were like a fountain of pure water flowing from a river of wishes.

"I. What?" I asked, not knowing what he meant.

"I know. It's been a few years. But I've been really busy. What with all this war and pestilence that's going on. It's hard to keep track of all the people that hate me. But your version of hate. I found rather intriguing. Very disciplined yet angry. And formatted with style and grace with a hint of fear. You're very confused about me, and well, we can see that you need an answer before you go completely mad. And so I wanted to give you the opportunity to do as you said in your poem"

"My. My Poem?" Complete confusion rained hard on me.

"Thunder For Sale?" He replied, and as if a million knives hit me at once I knew exactly what he meant.

"Oh. Um. Look that was a Poem. Doesn't necessarily mean it's true. I don't want to slap you. I mean your God. It would mean nothing to you even if I did. You would strike me down and all that… right?" I questioned. A fear greater than any fear I had faced ever came over me.

"I was joking about. I was angry and probably stoned. I totally don't want to slap you. Seriously!" But somewhere in my mind I was lying.

"Do it Graeme" he implied as he pushed his neck out to the middle of the table as if he deserved to be slapped.

"I'm not fucking slapping you dude" I quickly promoted the idea of a non-violent confrontation with God.

"Your poetry. It's rubbish! But you know that. However this one Poem was made at a time in your life where a lot of, shall we say bad things were going on around you, and you knew who's fault it was. You directed all your anger into this poem and made it full of hurt and broken dreams, you do remember the poem don't you Graeme?" He asked as I sat with a concoction of thoughtful amazing delirium and panic.

"Yeah. Thunder for Sale. I. I remember it. Yeah. But like I said it were just words. I never meant anything by it. I swear."

"Graeme. We both know that isn't true. So just do it. Get it over with. Slap me and have your satisfaction."

"I'm not doing it. This is silly. You'll kill me and no-one will ever believe I slapped God even if you don't"

"Why do people need to believe? Is it them you do it for?"

"No. Well Yes. I mean I don't know. You have given me a good life but others suffer so much and I don't understand it at all."

"So now you believe in me?" God enquired.

As I stared into the bluest of blue eyes I could see some qualities that represented man. One man sitting, talking to another on a train in Scotland. Whilst the World flew around us and the skies remained a fallen blue with the sun that shone bright over the North Sea, as we were now approaching the town of Montrose. The last two passengers left the train. Carriage D was empty. God sat looking at me with eyes of harmony yet he was capable of so much death and destruction, his planet had failed, the races he had implemented had failed, the Weather systems had failed, even innocence had failed. All that was left was the future. The dark, gloomy future that had nothing to offer no one but the evil, corrupt, and greedy. His planet had fallen into mystery and it was his entire fault.
"I never believed in you," I said as a tear fell from my eye.

"Why does this happen? Why do you make this happen? I'll put it to you. YOU WAN'T TO MAKE THIS HAPPEN!" I questioned. My eyes never retracted from his viewing. I could see a small build up of water on the bottom lids of his eyes.

"Graeme." His head sank.

"You have to realise something. Life is a very complicated matter. It's not as easy as people want it to be. If it were as easy as everyone wanted it to be then there would be no point in doing it. Everyone would lye around and do nothing. No progress would be made. People live and people die. Some people help you some people hinder you."

"And which do you do?"

"I am the neutral. The one who makes it happen but the one who has no consequence on what happens. Complicated matters really but it's not as simple as I stopping the bad people on this Earth, nor is it up to me who lives and dies. I simply put the equations together and watch them multiply or die."

"That’s a horrible thing to say"

"I know. I am the Scientist Graeme. Nothing more. I watch these instances happen every day and wish I could do something, but I can't."

"You could easily do something. You're just a lazy God with no respect for us. You think you can just make us into these little puppets that dance around the World for you when the clear message appears to be; you don't care. People. Millions of people worship you, others worship different versions of you and you come to me. The one man who probably cares about you the least. WHY? Huh. Why? So you can make me your friend, so you can make me believe in you. Your nothing but a bad father who can't take care of his children."

"And you think you know it all Graeme. You think slapping me in the face after everything I have done is the answer? After everything I have done for this planet. After everything I have done for your race. After.."

"After everything you have done for this race? Dude. You have destroyed your own planet for the sake of having opinions. For the sake of vanity. You wanted to be worshipped so you could have people marvel at the splendour of Earth and the cosmos. And it is a bloody nice Solar System. But you have sacrificed everything you are to be something you have no right being."

"And what's that?" God Enquired with a tear forming in his eye.

"Loved."

The train suddenly ground to a halt. The windows in the train shattered. The metal split from the top of the carriage and ripped itself open like a tin and open air was infected upon the few passengers that remained. God stood. His patience had worn thin and now he was pissed off with me.

"Do not test my temper Graeme. You won't like it"

"I don't love you, and you can't handle it. Millions all over the World hate you and you come to me because I'm the one that wanted to slap you because of your fucking vanity. You're amazing. You're so fucking amazing God. WOW. Earth is a great planet. And it is. It really is. But you destroyed it by becoming greedy. And now your children have taken after they're father in the only way they know how too. Greed. War. Famine. Poverty. Destruction. There is no hope for this World and you have made it this way. If you are my father then I am ashamed to be called your son."

As God stood in the open air of the Scottish Hillside on the open-air train he looked at me with eyes of rage, tears fell from his face. His arms raised up and without any warning he pulled the water of the North Sea towards us. A trillion gallons of sea lifted through the air and flew at us with speed.

"You have tested me. And you are the one who has failed Graeme. Your poem meant nothing to me. I was bored and couldn't be fucking arsed saving poor little Timmy in Montreal today. I wanted to see him die as slow a death as possible. I want to watch you all die as slowly as possible you fucking diseases"

As the water ferociously sharpened into a monster tidal wave aiming straight at me, I could see clearer than I had ever done. Sense. I stepped forward and slapped God with the back of my hand, as sweet a hit as any man could ask for. God fell to the ground, his mouth bloodied, his pride destroyed.

But it all was too late. God smiled at me. Then changed into a shark. I stood there watching the shark on the train wriggling about. Then sensed the ever-increasing shadow of the tidal wave come closer.

"Nooooo" I screamed at the last possible of moment of breathing.

Then I awoke. A finger was touching my chin. A clear line of saliva drew away from my mouth onto the shoulder of the man next to me, whom I had fallen asleep on.

THE TRAIN IS NOW APPROACHING ABERDEEN.