The Skeptic (A Flash Story)

The Skeptic

"You don't believe me, do you?" As Mike spoke, his grin grew with every passing second.

"Of course not! Why would I? There's absolutely no proof in what you're saying," Sheryl replied, her smile growing in proportion with his.

"Does there need to be?"

"Absolutely."

"That's it?"

"That's it. Call me the skeptic." Sheryl spoke with a tone of finality. Mike watched her and his smile faded as his eyes moved down to stare at the silver cross hanging from her neck.

"What about that?" he asked.

"What?" Sheryl responded.

"You believe in God don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Ever seen him?"

"No."

"Then how do you know he exists?"

"That's different."

"Is it?"

"Yes. God is a certainty."

"You know the Bible says blessed are those who believe, but have not seen."

"That's referring to God, not what you're talking about."

"I know, but some things are believable even without seeing them."

"Prove it," Sheryl said. Mike pulled away from her, slouched against the driver seat and tapped the steering wheel.

"Okay, I will." He slid his fingers around the key in the ignition and fired up the truck's engine.

*

Sheryl winced, thinking about her conversation with Mike. An hour had passed, and she now found herself climbing back into his truck after having gotten out for a moment at Mike's request. As she took a seat inside the truck again, Sheryl felt uneasiness beginning to grow. Together they'd driven across town, and she'd watched as the houses grew smaller and bars began to appear on the windows. Faded leaves littered the lawns, discarded by the autumn breeze while old cars, some missing wheels, sat with their rusted carcasses parked up against the curb. There were no streetlamps and the houses around them were completely dark. The moon provided the only source of light, casting a pale glow.

Sheryl's thoughts came back to the present as she realized Mike was now shifting the truck out of park and back into drive. They were in front of an old black-iron gate - a fierce, gothic façade protecting rows of dilapidated, weathered gravestones. Sheryl looked down at her hands. They were trembling and she folded her arms up against her chest to cover them.

"Are you ready?" Mike asked.

"Ready for what?" Sheryl replied as she turned and saw his eyes gleaming in a way that made her uncomfortable. They'd been dating for several months, and Sheryl usually tried to steer clear of daring him into anything because odds were he'd actually do it.

"You'll see," Mike said. Sheryl looked away from his grinning face, heard the sound of gravel crunching under the truck tires and noticed they we're passing under the black-iron gate. She snapped her head back towards him.

"You've got to be kidding!"

"Nope."

"I don't like this, Mike."

"Trust me. It'll get worse."

"What?!"

"Just be patient."