Garrett was afraid of God.
Garrett was afraid of God. He tried not to believe, but at one time he had been a regular at his local church. Now in the back of his head were the words of his priest, whispering that if God did exist, surely Garrett must be doomed. In his more vulnerable moments, he wondered, and remembered the stories of the pillars of salt, the flood, the story of Sodom & Gomorrah. How could such an all-powerful being fail to frighten him, he wondered. The weight of his fear had pushed him further and further away from the Church; the dreams, the stress were so deeply ingrained. His therapist had told him to cut out the source of his fear from his life, and so it had been years since he’d attended a sermon. He still sometimes snuck into the Church and went to Confession, though. He didn’t tell his therapist, but it occasionally made him feel better. Some nights he dreamed of his church’s choir singing hymns, and on those nights he wished he’d never left, but much more frequently the nightmares gripped him, and he trembled, wishing that there was somewhere he could feel safe. Why, he wondered, should a phobia have to rule his life?