The Trouble With Being God: A Philosophical Thriller (Sample)

Day One: CIRCUMSTANCE

Chapter One

His hand brushed cross her neck, gently caressing her sweet pale skin. With a small razor nestled between his middle and ring fingers he began cutting. It was just a slight flesh wound, barely a scratch - just enough to draw a trickle of blood. Her eyes confessed her desire to scream, but the gun in his other hand, pressed firmly against her left temple, stifled this craving.

He ran his tongue along her neck. Once. Twice. The salt of her sweat thrilled his appetite.

Then, with a forceful stroke of the blade, the serious cutting began - his tongue following close behind to taste the weight of her blood. In short time, however, even this composure gave way to rancor and his impatient hand plunged the razor deep into her throat.

She tried again to scream, but was left with nothing but a gurgle. The blood gushed from the gash in her windpipe and he quickly moved aside to avoid being stained by the cascade. Missing him completely, it spilt over her naked body, down across her breasts, smacking wetly onto the bare concrete. As the outpouring subsided it gave way to a few throaty gurgles, until it was nothing but a pulsing trickle.

Her pleading eyes turned back in the head up toward the sky - up towards heaven and the god she so adored. But in the end it was he, the man with the blade, who controlled her fate.

He was in control. He was her god.

Chapter Two

Steven tossed the magazine across his living room onto the end table at the foot of his worn leather couch, knocking over a few photographs of Karen, his longtime girlfriend, in the process. He could clean it up in the morning – he was much too tired to care at this hour.

Karen had left her issue of Cosmopolitan at his apartment once again. And, once again, Steven found himself reading it. He tossed the magazine when he realized he had upgraded from simple perusing to actually reading. He had much better things to do at this hour, like go to sleep. The old brown couch sounded like a great idea; the bed was all the way in the next room.

It had been nearly an hour since Karen left the apartment after yet another argument, which at this point of their relationship was nothing out of the ordinary. Lately things hadn’t been going as well as either of them really hoped for and this was just another in a string of arguments over something insignificant. Tonight’s insignificance revolved around how much Karen had spent on her oil change and once again both sides had blown things out of proportion, leaving Karen no exit other than to storm out in a furor.

After resorting to the simplest solution, a half hour regimen of vodka and perusing Cosmo, his head was swimming. It was definitely time to go to sleep.