“My body is my Temple,” he whispered out loud, tasting the rightness in the bitter irony of the words – that his body was all he had, and so he was reborn: Temple.
Tag Archives: steven savile
Short Fiction: Absence of Divinity
March 9, 2006 – 2:45 pm
Hell, wrote the mad man in his lonely tower, is the absence of God’s love not brimstone and sulphur and nightmarish visions. The pains of Hell are metaphorical as well as metaphysical. The tortures, the torments, imagined as perpetual flaying of skin and the application of saltpetre to the wounds, are nothing beside the emptiness where once there was God.
Short Fiction: The Pain, Heartbreak and Redemption of Owen Frost
October 2, 2005 – 10:45 am
The old man stood silhouetted in the doorway, a guttering torch in his left hand. He could easily have been some brimstone and treacle prophet stepped miraculously from the pages of the Old Testament to strike the fear of God into him. His unruly white beard and rough-spun clothes blessed him with an air of ragged wildness. Shadows crawled across his face, making it impossible to read his mood.