The Retreat by Dijorn Moss Read Free Book Online Page B

did not know what would happen after he died. He really didn’t care. All he wanted was to be away from this world.
    â€œThese chicken-neck pastors want to teach milk and honey. Well, you can’t get to heaven living like the devil. It’s either holiness or hell,” the preacher roared.
    Will tried to recall what would qualify as a sin. He used profanity, but then he thought about the Bible and it didn’t say anything about profanity being a sin. He smoked weed, but that came from the ground, so it was natural. If God did not want Will to smoke, he should not have created weed. He could not put his finger on any sin he could have possibly committed.
    He had sex, but he always used a condom, so God would appreciate safe sex. Besides, sexuality was normal and natural. He could not wrap his brain around any outright sins, but he could not fathom why, on the inside, he had this burning desire to confess. It wasn’t the type of burn that consumes, but the type that lingers until it becomes a gray cloud in one’s soul.
    Will changed the station, but came across another fire-breathing Christian.
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    â€œJesus comes like a thief in the night. You never know when. It could be at this very moment and you want Him to say, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’ You do not, and I repeat, you do not want Him to say, ‘depart from me, I never knew you.’”
    Will’s body temperature shot up 400 degrees. His pores started to open up and drops of sweat started to leak out. Will turned off the radio. That last line stuck with him. He could not understand what would make Jesus say He never knew someone. What could a person possibly do that was that consequential? That was when Will came to the conclusion that God was a cold piece of work.
    He patted his pocket for a blunt, found one, and inserted it between his black lips. He patted his pocket again for his nickel-plated lighter, but to no avail. The events of tonight had been too much for Will to deal with without smoking.
    â€œWhere my lighter go?” Will said to himself. He never left the house without his lighter, so the fact that he had a blunt in his mouth with no lighter was very strange. What was also strange was that the cigarette lighter in the car had been removed. So he assumed that Christians did not smoke. Just then, he spotted a liquor store beyond the intersection. The dirty neon sign was popping on and off like a beacon.
    Will pulled off of South Street and into the parking lot. The liquor store sat on the corner of a strip mall, next door to a Mexican restaurant and cleaners. Will entered the liquor store with purpose, but got sidetracked.
    From the corner of his eye, he saw a magazine with a girl who had a behind the size of two basketballs on the cover. The magazine stood out in the midst of the other adult material. Above the magazine section stood a sign that gave a five-minute time limit for reading the material.
    Judging by the condition of the magazines, the liquor store’s clientele either didn’t see the sign or didn’t care much for the rules. He scanned through the magazine, then placed it back on the shelf as he made his way to the cash register.
    â€œLighter,” Will said as more of a demand than a request.
    The white guy at the cash register handed Will a lighter in exchange for a five dollar bill. Will took the change and made his way back to the van. He got back inside, felt his pocket, and retrieved his blunt. Blunt in his mouth, Will was ready to smoke, but he hesitated. He felt the urge to turn the radio back on.
    Will had never heard preachers speak with such passion and conviction. Most of the preachers he encountered were what he liked to call the Liquor Store preachers. They would preach the gospel and then ask for an offering so they could buy beer. Will turned on the radio and a more mellow voice spoke.
    â€œWe all mess up sometimes. Lord knows I do, but the scripture