Pulp Fiction Prayer Novels & Stories

I need to count to 15 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15 "What the hell is happening to him," Luca says in confusion Feeling the drug course through my body for the first time in a long time I start to pray. Heavenly Father I am a sinner and I ask for forgiveness. Could I live to see another day just so I could hear my darling girl call me Dada and my future wife call me Hanii just one more time...Amen

I thought of pleading with the clocked men, but how do you plead for your lives with faceless men? As they walked around me, tears kept rolling down my eyes. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I burst out in tears. One of them came to my side and held a knife up high. It was directly aimed at my chest. “Someone, anybody. Please help me.” I said one last prayer. I looked over at Egnar. He looked anxious to get this over with. I felt the knife go into my stomach, and the way they all stepped back. It looks like the ritual is complete.

He frowned, I could almost see the wheels in his head turning as he wondered what angle I was coming from. “It’s for the sick, injured or the grieving..” his eyes shut in realization of what has just happened. I flash him a triumphant smile. “If you must know, I recently lost three of my family members in a day, making me an orphan and a grieving. I qualify for special prayers don’t you think?” Again, he curses but it was almost inaudible. “It’s just five to ten minutes. There’s nothing that can happen in them. You don’t even need them.”

He paused briefly, before starting a prayer. “God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself... Through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” “Amen,” I whispered weakly. “Go in peace, child. And sin no more.” I stepped out of the dark box back into the quiet, empty church. My knees were shaking a bit from the gruelling session I had just finished.

I knelt on the kitchen floor amid the glass, clasping my hands so tight my nails bit into my skin. "God, please," I wailed, tears streaming, my body heaving with each plea. "Don't take him. He's been tired, short of breath… please god! Heal him, make his heart strong again. I promise I'll visit more, call every day. I'll stop chasing shadows and focus on what's real. I will stop acting like a slut and take my marital vow seriously... god! Please " I prayed fervently and violently, I prayed for Dad to get better. If the powers-that-be hadn’t heard my voice, my frenzied movements would have shaken the heavens that day. I adhered to all the rituals of pleading my case before God.

Below-Prayer defended itself with human voices. That was crueler than roaring. It spoke as a child forgotten in quarantine. As a widow outside a locked temple. As a soldier buried without name. As Ava under the newsroom table. As me, age fifteen, praying beside my mother's hospital bed after I had already stopped believing. "I answered," Below-Prayer said through all of us. "I was the only thing that answered." The court wavered.

Now sitting beside me, he explains, "This is my calling. Sorry if I was overbearing, but once I see evil following you or around you, it's my job to get you free." I nodded his way and then watched Ellie. Hands clasped, she walks over with her head bowed, asking, "I've been through this several times myself. How do you feel?" Nodding again, Winnie kneels before me, saying, "Pastor Chauffee is on his way. He wants to see you, okay?" Pastor Chauffee enters, rejoicing. With my head down and eyes lifted, I barely clap as they praise God and dance around me. Pastor Chauffee suggests Donovan and his wife, whose name is Paige, be my prayer partners.

”He replied. "May we begin with a brief prayer of thanksgiving to our mighty Father?" Then we inquire as to what our next tasks will be for His glory to be revealed! "Excellent! "Come on now," Rudolf says, closing his eyes and waiting for Rhoda to begin the prayers. He slid his hand possessively around her waist. "Come on my sexy wife, let's go," Rudolf exclaims. "Thank you Father God for all you have done for all your suffering people who trusted you." Rhoda prays as she continues, while Rudolf appears to be itching to entrap his hands around her waistline for a few moments.

Quiet and calm, closed off to the sound of smiles and laughter, their faces blew gloom, while their voices wailed alongside their teary eyes. Their facade could be fealt, the lies interwoven in their hearts, while the scavenged bad thoughts within their minds. “In the bosom of the Lord, the faithful lay” the priest said, while he stood right before Mr Fernando’s laid up coffin, dressed in a red coloured vest, with bottle of water straddled up on his hands while he sprinkled portions upon the coffin.

Our hands are linked, heads bowed, legs folded beneath us like children at prayer. I’d never been to one of these before. When I was a priest, I heard confessions in the box. Private. Anonymous. Safe. This is exposure. Vulnerability. Exactly what I need to break this addiction. Fourteen days since I’d last touched Bunny. Three hundred and thirty-six hours trying to purge him from my system. And still, just thinking his name made my cock hard. The holy spirit ought to be at work by now. What’s happening? “This is a place of mercy. Everyone is equal in the eyes of God. Speak and be heard.” The Father affirms in that numb, monotonous tone. His eyes land on a middle-aged brunette wearing glasses