Well What If
"God never spoke to me"
Disclaimer 'n' stuff: Yea ... I don't own. Please don't sue. Or hit me with a baseball bat.
Walking through the crowded street, Alexander shoved through all the people. His tall, large form moved easily through the bustling people. His form also drew a lot of attention, all of it unwanted. After all, he was still in the lovely island that was Japan. Each step he took was like some joke upon God. He was a freak and yet he was supposed to be the judgement and hammer of God. Redeeming the wicked individuals who God, himself would smite. The whole taboo about him and his job ... no, duty ... gave chills to his spine for oh, how much he wanted to scream that he was not insane, that God works in mysterious ways and just cut him some freaking slack. It's not like they give guidelines or tips for instruments of God. Had God even spoken to him in some fiery display of His ultimate power? No, not really. No, God had not showed himself to the permanently confused Alexander Anderson.
Ah, but who really cared. Certainly not Alexander Anderson. No one ever questioned the faith of a priest. No one honestly wished to know. Faith is sometimes such a fragile thing that it is easily lost or easily questioned for other things. But truly, faith is stronger than mere little quibbles of humanity ... right?
Well, once he had been told that ... faith is like a glass of water. When you're young the glass is small, so it's easy to fill. As you get older the glass gets bigger; the same amount of liquid doesn't fill it anymore. And Anderson's glass kept getting larger every time he fought a creature not of God. And when it rains it pours, so he often got a little carried away. Now he imagined himself running around like an idiot with a beer mug trying to catch the rain. Though, admittedly, he was often unsure of himself in every step. The only thing he could do was pretend to assert himself and assure those who had some sort of faith in him to still believe in his strength. Even if it was his enemies. Sometimes those are the only people he can trust ... trust will try to kill him, at least. But trust is trust.
Finally he reached the quiet pub and drank as he reflected. All he did was wander around since he was temporality "let go" on this little vacation. He didn't feel any sense of accomplishment. He felt like a lifeless lay-about. But true to his usual nature, he did manage to rid the Earth of a few more evil vampires. It seemed that every time he was going through some emotional dilemma or bit of depression or even stress he would resort to killing the "blasphemies of God" as therapy. Also, drinking was a good form of escape from reality. Hell, it was infamously a part of his sodding culture. As he lifted the mug to his lips he thought back to a couple weeks ago while he was still so very attached to Atlanta and its odd inhabitants. He thought back on the girl. Kyla. A painful twitch activated in his face when he thought the name. Soon her face appeared in his mind. He shook his head, trying to erase the image.
Suddenly a quick flash zoomed by the window. It was a fast as a blur but seemed familiar. And for some reason he was flashed back to that moment when he had lifted his holy blade over Kyla's head, ready to slice her down the middle ... and how at the last possible second ... he froze. The tip of that sacred blade split one of the hairs on her head. He dropped to the ground, his knees breaking beneath him. All the innocence he had killed ruthlessly were different from this one, in this very moment. Some collapsed within his faith in God or his purpose and crying to the heavens, he whispered, "God help me ... save her soul by Your own means ..." And when he turned back to face the confused girl, her red eyes wide, he said sadly in an almost defeated tone, "Go, run away ... Lord knows that if I should see you again ... I will kill you."
And a tug of memory and guilt overwhelmed him. Thus, Alexander Anderson, slapped down some yen, and took off running out of the little Japanese bar. For what if his bane was running off into the quickly setting sun? If a lovely child, forsaken of God, ran peacefully into a field of blood red flowers, killing in a most magnificent way? So he ran.
The reference in here to faith and a glass of water is a pure rip from the wonderful movie, Dogma by Kevin Smith, the greatest director ever, in my opinion.