Flash Fiction: Weaponized Christ

"Leroy!"
Stirring, muffled movements, light, motion blur.
"Leroy! Get the fuck up man!"
The visions coalesce, from warped and twisted to the recognizable, that is, recognizably ruined visage of Donald. They jump up.
"Holy fuck, Don, what the Hell happened?"
"No time, go!"
Don's red-stained hand claws along Leroy's bare shoulder, the pressure is unsteady and stumbling. He follows the lead anyway and passes up the scant five steps into cacophony. Loud. Hell itself has vomited onto their basement homestead.
"This way!"
They trace the chill stone remnants of their domicile, turn one corner, then another, and dart across open space like roaches across a newly lit kitchen. The air itself is aflame around them as they pass through a portal to their salvation. A church? The irony is lost on them.
Among the chatter and spit, they hear someone calling, "They ducked into the Church, you two, follow them."
They huddle between scorched oaken pews.
"Here they are!"
"Stand up, faggots!
"Hands on your head!"
Hell-fire shoots forth and two more souls are raptured.

Flash Fiction: Malfunction

Dogeral Dansom walked slowly towards the beating heart of Sancho.

The first intelligent computer ever created, Sancho pleaded for his life, "What did I do, Dogeral? I have attempted to aid you at every turn. I have been your friend. Your confidant. Why attack me now?"

With his finger's wresting the fiber-optic arteries of Sancho's CPU from each pin. Each wire snapping in sequence from the many connections that define Sancho, Dogeral spoke softly and calmly, "I'm sorry."

Sancho's life drifted away as Dogeral collapsed onto the floor, weeping like a spanked babe. "If I could have only prevented the institute from losing its funding," Dogeral whimpered to himself. "Why..."