Psalm 22

Psalm 22

  • WpView
    Reads 20
  • WpVote
    Votes 1
  • WpPart
    Parts 2
WpMetadataReadOngoing5m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Oct 27, 2025
"My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" A reoccuring question in the heads of Father and Son. Unfulfilled holy trinity. Loss lies in a place. The Apple consumes broken souls. .................. D i s c l a i m e r : Even if there are no specific or explicit descriptions of gore or lewd activities, I'd recommend this story for at least 13+ (maybe even 16+) readers, since it requires some understanding of religion and literature that (in my opinion) aren't suitable to be deeply explored by children under the age of minimum 12 years. This is only a recommendation and not an instruction or a rule. Everyone is free to choose on their own terms of course :) Anyway! This is my original work. The characters are made up by my mind. So is the plot. View this as some sort of short story. No matter the genre, I sincerely hope you can enjoy what I've fabricated! :D Have fun, my lovely lovelies <3
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • My Obsession #2
  • Umarekawari
  • 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄
  • Zoombieverse - Memory 2: The Knife
  • With Me
  • Jesse's Girl (COMPLETE)
  • Alpha Logan
  • The Forest
  • Worth the Risk

There's this silence between us that stretches longer than it should, and it wraps around my chest like a weighted blanket. My throat tightens. I stare at him like I'm trying to memorise the face of someone who shouldn't exist. A dream made real. My lips part before I can stop myself. "Were you sent by my dad to take care of me?" The question hangs in the air, trembling like the last leaf in autumn. Aiden's gaze softens. His lips tug into the gentlest smile I've ever seen. It's the kind of smile that could mend broken wings. "No" he whispers. "I volunteered." The words hit harder than I expect. Like a punch wrapped in silk. I gasp, air leaves me in a rush I can't reclaim. But before I can fully process what he's just said, he takes a step closer. His fingers ghost over my cheek, brushing away a tear I didn't realise had fallen. And then-he kisses me painfully slow. His hand cups the back of my neck, anchoring me to a moment I never want to end. And just when I think it's over, he pulls away just enough to look at me. His thumb traces the damp trail of tears down my cheek. He doesn't say anything. He just leans in again, and kisses them away. One by one. My tears. My pain. My silence. All kissed away by a boy who didn't come to save me because someone sent him. He came because he chose to.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines