A Second Chance
Flash Fiction
The man walked into the church and looked at the altar with its golden cross encrusted with precious stones.
The priest looked upon the man with annoyance as his presence disrupted his service.
The congregation stared at the dusky skinned man with dark unkempt hair and beard, dressed in rags.
The man looked upon them, eyes blazing with an inner fire. His bright hazel eyes took in their Sunday best and expensive jewellery.
“Why do you keep such riches when the poor are so in need?” the man asked, his voice strong and commanding.
“Shut up,” a lady cried and everyone joined in.
“Call the police,” another said, “How dare this man come into God’s house looking like this. He’s disgusting.”
“Why do you twist the truth for your own gains?” He called to the priest. “Have you forgotten my teachings. The rich can not enter my father’s kingdom.”
“Blasphemer,” the priest boomed.
“You think you’re Jesus, you haven’t even got blonde hair,” a man mocked, pointing to the stranger, a gold Rolex clamped to a fat wrist.
The police came swiftly and took the man away.
The man sat in the police cell, shaking his head.
Mankind hadn’t learnt anything in the past two thousand years and he wept for them.
Jason Duck 2026.
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