God on Earth and other stories

God on Earth

Author's Note: This event takes place roughly a few days after the event described in Chapter 23 of The White Capes. So I would advise you to read atleast upto Chapter 23 before continuing.

Two coppers is all Grimrol had. He looked at the metal give out a golden tint as it reflected sunlight.

Borrowed glory from the sun! Only if they were gold.

Two coppers were all he had as he moved down the mundane streets of Hrunville, the most modest part of Trinopolis, if there ever was one. He had convinced his family to move here in the hopes of a better coin, a softer bed and a fuller kitchen. All the three he had failed to accomplish, and his wife blamed him, and he was pretty sure his son would too, once he came of an understanding age.

The sun glared down on his uncovered head as it mocked the copper still glistening in his hand. His rugged hands balled into a fist shielding the copper from the sun and slipped it in his pocket. Checking the pocket for holes had become a habit, he didn't want to lose the last of his great wealth to something as insignificant as pocket holes.

The shoes on his feet did a lousy job of keeping his feet steady, as he walked through the only market of Hrunville. It was a humble place with the lowest prices in Trinopolis, the economic strain evident throughout its fiber. But even here Grimrol stood apart, and he saw an occasional glance looking down on him, like he didn't belong here, not on the
Earth he stood on, as if he had committed some crime unspeakable.

Had any of them known he had never begged for money in his life or gambled, or even borrowed, their view may have been different.

Maybe not even then! Poverty simply seems to rule out all else. When, even witnessing a God does not seem to do anything for your condition, one starts to question, if the reach of poverty is beyond God in the eyes of these assholes.

Yes, with his own eyes he had witnessed God come down on Earth. So had his wife and son.

But they went hungry that night, and they are going to go hungry tonight. God didn't fill my stock.

His eyes wandered to a porter who had statues of White God on display. He glanced at the statues and the number of people that gathered around, bargaining and buying.

One of the few people who actually made raw profit in the name of God.

He had long contemplated starting a similar business after God left, but every fiber of his being had contradicted the idea of making a profit using The White God's name such. Seeing the face of his starved and sick son made him think otherwise.

Too much thought and talk of moral, and where had it all led him? He saw the sinners happy, he saw their wives and children happy. He was sure none of them wept to sleep, or had doctors kick them for not being able to pay the fee for their sick sons.

He had been. And the irony remained, he had seen God and the healer hadn't.

He walked over to the porter and examined the statues with a closer look. He saw more eyes telling him that he stood inferior, more faces that declared his presence an annoyance.

Why God? Am I really not deserving? What did I do wrong?

The statues were just a fleeting resemblance of the White God. The porter clearly was no sculptor. Grimrol could have done a better job half asleep.

O God, Am I really inferior to these folks who sell and make a profit using your name and spare no two thoughts about it?

He felt his eyes moistening as he recalled how his boy would be holed up in a corner torn blankets around, to shield him from the disease that had taken root of him. His wife boiling water in a corner to keep him warm.