Bathroom Monologue: A Pact with a God

“I’m not like your other gods. I don’t care how they work or what pacts you’ve made with them. My offer is simple: I will intervene. No one will die in another car crash or house fire. I will step in and swat down every bullet fired by thief and soldier. I will stop your two greatest killers: your ignorance and your malice. Until now you’ve cursed gods when so much was your own fault: God didn’t build the bridge below code, and He certainly didn’t ignore its maintenance. Man did. Man is at fault when the road falls out from under a car. Man sets more deaths in motion by not paying attention than all the tornados and thunderstorms gods brew. And Man’s most certainly at fault when he declares war on his neighbors. But I’ll save you from all this foolishness. In return I’ll ask only one little thing: every year when autumn begins, you kill one child at my altar. One explicit murder and I’ll stop a million accidental deaths. If you try to kill a second child, I’ll stay the knife in your hand. The one autumnal girl will be the only who dies by mortal hand a year. Think it over. I’ll be listening for your prayers.”