[ WP ] `` If there is a god , '' he gestured towards the cage , `` that 's the proof that it hates you . ''

“ Please, your fictitious god would ’ ve abandoned you the moment he saw what you ’ ve became, ” the disbeliever led her misguided friend into the next room, which held one item, a cloth covered box in the very center. She didn ’ t like these kind of theological conversations, but maybe, just maybe, she thought, this would be the last. 
 
 “ God would *never* abandon us! ” the believer didn ’ t even respond about the change of scenery, “ God loves us! He loves us all! ” 
 
 “ Even if *it* existed, your god would surely hate you by now, ” the disbeliever walked over to the box, grabbing the cloth with both hands. 
 
 “ God doesn ’ t hate us! Everyday we pray, we help people… we do good deeds! Everyday! ” the believer ’ s normally reserved persona began to blaze with fury and pride, “ He loves us! ” 
 
 The disbeliever removed the cloth from the box. 
 
 `` If there is a god,'' she gestured towards the cage, `` that's the proof that *it* hates you. ” 
 
 The believer froze, “ What… what… ” He could only point now, and even that was shaky at best. 
 
 “ Are you trying to say… what is that? ” the disbeliever finished his sentence for him with an air of mocking. 
 
 “ Mmhm, ” the believer couldn ’ t even open his mouth now. He couldn ’ t avert his gaze from the crate. He never did. 
 
 The creature in the crate hissed from its circular mouth, filled with concentric rings of white spikes stained dark red. That mouth was itself embedded into a thorax covered in black fur. Out of this ball of flesh emerged four armored legs, spiked at every joint, each spike also tipped with dark red. But the believer didn ’ t care for the legs, or for the mouth that had now closed up, leaving no mark on the body; he didn ’ t even care for any of the stains. The believer didn ’ t even hear the hissing and clicking as the creature grew impatient to satisfy its hunger. 
 
 The believer only stared at the fur. Each piece of fur moved individually, twisting the light from above into mesmerizing patterns. Patterns that the believer was certain were the work of his god. 
 
 The disbeliever tried to say something, but the believer didn ’ t hear her. 
 
 But finally, the believer spoke, “ *This… This* is the work of *God*. No-one else could create something so… so beautiful! so magnificent! ” 
 
 The disbeliever responded, breaking into a sadistic grin as she finished her question, “ Then why would your god make it so… fatal? ” 
 
 ***** 
 
 Constructive criticism is welcome!
