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I grew up sitting next to my brother in the church watching people be healed.

We nodded together in faith as a preacher preached no disease and faced the power of our Almighty

God.

The sickness is just another name of Satan.

I command you in the name of Almighty God to vacate this person cancer.

I cast you out in firmly.

I saw people begging a preacher to please, please place his hands upon their forehead.

To please make the pain go away.

They expected a miracle, a miracle.

And later as a grown man, I stopped believing in miracles because instead I'm angry.

For the time wasted in the company of charlatans but men who twist God and faith and healing into fancy cars and gold during liars telling lies.

I share this with my brother and he agrees we laugh at the foolishness of it.

The stolen time.

Later he asked me if I have stolen from him.

The millions of dollars and jewels we had buried together under the sea.

I laugh again but this time he does not laugh.

Later he grows angry, ask where I've hidden his secret daughter, Rages.

To know how I sneak messages into his food, he tells me he knows that I edit his thoughts and promises revenge for my treachery.

He calls me preacher.

...