Smitten: Book I: Genesis

smite
// verb (t) (smote, Obsolete smit; smitten or smit; smiting) 1. to strike or
hit hard, as with the hand, a stick or weapon, etc., or as the hand or a
weapon does. 2. to render by, or as by, a blow: to smite a person dead. 3.
to fall upon or attack with deadly or disastrous effect, as lightning,
blight, pestilence, etc., do. 4. to affect suddenly and strongly with a
specified feeling: smitten with terror. 5. to impress favourably; charm;
enamour. [Middle English, from Old Englishsmitan]
--smiter, noun

smitten
// verb 1. past participle of smite.
--adjective 2. struck, as with a hard blow. 3. stricken with affliction,
etc. 4. Colloquial very much in love.

"What the fuck?", I hear you think. The collective books of "The Smitten"
will prove undeniably that God exists, or that I am need of serious
psychatric help. Either way, they will will not be religous and will, in
fact, consist of vitriolic, cynical, paranoid ramblings from a rather
disturbed mind, yet should point to the obvious fact that some things in
this world are so fucked up, it would require an all-mighty being to be
responsible. So, to the origin story of "The Smitten". It is written in
third person because, well...it's been years since I did creative writing
and I need the fucking practice.

"The Smitten: Book I: Genesis"

"Fuck, I am bored", echoed rather loudly through the halls of Heaven. The
seraphim, in particular, were not surprised. It was not uncommon for Him to
be foul-tempered at this time of year. Christmas for the humans was a symbol
of the humans' loss of respect for Him. The older angels knew to be patient.
They collectively sighed a relief when He came out of his room, walked to
the cabinet labeled "Acts" and wandered contently back to his room carrying
His sniper rifle.

God could not suppress a half smile. The human in his gun sights had been
the source of much amusment over the last 23 years. It had been a while
since this particular man had registed on the all-mighty's consciousness and
only did so now as the man had gone back to his habit of using the phrase
"Vision from God" as some kind of joke. These men were always the best to
fuck with. God pressed the intercom button next to him, "Michael, find out
the current status of the one known as Chas. He is on the
southern continent, the one where those pretty little bird thingies I
designed were meant to thrive before all those hicks moved in".

"Yes sir.", crackled over the intercom before a pause, "...it appears he is
soon to be leaving his job and will travel."

"Excellent", God thought as he clicked off the intercom, "This will work
nicely". He reached for the pink box labelled "Furry Fuzzy Friend Firearm
Filament" and silently cursed the American he had hired to translate the
Japanese. He heard the American's scream gradually lose volume as his soul
fell, and God silently decided to apply that treatment to all American's
from now on. From inside the box he removed a projectile labelled "Smite"
and calmly loaded his weapon, took aim and fired.

To be continued...

"Stay out of God's radar"