Asleep on a Sunday

A Story by Ales

A short story, I suppose, mainly written to voice an opinion. I know it could use some revision but this is it so far.

The hands struck nine on a day of which God, certainly, forgot to charm the sky with eternal blue. Instead, the gray morning held itself over John and threatened his heart with depression and near-grief; with this, he could not resist but to wonder whose funeral he stumbled upon. He turned, swayed terribly as though blown by wind, and his drunken steps were heavy on the weak wood panels as he took himself through an emptied house to which he thought not a thing of mine, not a single thing is here.

John regained his feet, walked steadily now, and approached a familiar white hall. He ran his large dominate hand over the pure frame before he continued forward; a minute passed to reach the ending of the hall and he stood across a narrow, crimson door that appeared sudden and out-of-place within the white home. He questioned the presence of the door but, regardless of his concern, he harshly gripped the golden knob and felt the cool sensation of it run through his fingers. After such a rush, he finally twisted the ornament wildly.

His eyes moved through the room and he realized his belongings filled the space. He took happiness at the sight but noted a strange cabinet that set properly in the left corner. It, too, was an eccentric crimson and John wrinkled his nose at it as he paced, softly and slightly crooked, towards it. He slouched over to open the cabinet's single door and merely upon peering inside, his feet became drunk once more which caused him to crash against the near wall. He sat and huffed his air while he stared intently at the contents. His eyes grew smaller and he blew out a sigh, "God Almighty, will surely forgive," a ragged Bible was atop the shelf inside the cabinet, "God Almighty will surely forgive."