No Miracle

A plane crashes, and everybody dies.
Except one. A kid.
He’s badly burned, bones broken, but he’ll live.
People call it a miracle.
God doesn’t kill a hundred to spare a kid just to leave him a fucked-up, burned and battered orphan.
I see demons, laughing in the fires. It’s not a miracle.
The firefighters hose down the flames, the demons laugh… until I sprinkle the embers with holy water.
Go back to Hell.
They’re supposed to bless the de-icing compounds and the jet fuel.
Airline cutbacks. Priests are the first to go.
But, like me, the first they call.