| General Fiction posted September 23, 2023 |
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You appear surprised
Who Owns His Addled Soul?
by John Ciarmello
With his chest bridged and his arms out at his sides, Isaac spoke in a raised voice. “I’ve lived life through your eyes, my Lord. I’ve followed in Your footsteps, rejoiced with Your people, and read from Your scriptures. So, I don’t understand. Why have you brought me to his hell before Your Heaven? Is the splintered wooden door I stand before the Golden Gates You promised to welcome me through? If this is where I must wait for Your promised riches, then so be it. But give me a sign You are here!”
Isaac wheeled around and yelled into the grayish nothingness. “Surely, when I turn, the Golden Gates will be before me!” As he did, a dim light flickered above his head, and the heaved cement raised the arches of his feet as he stepped. His brows furrowed. “Is this the welcoming light and the crystal pathway that leads to Your marble throne?”
He looked away in disappointment and stared into the shambled scape. To his left, a scant stream of water trickled over ascending rocks where, below, fruit trees withered. “Am I to drink and feast on this? Surely, when I touch the fruit and cup the water, the fruit will turn sweet and the water plentiful.”
He looked up at the mountains, desperate to find one glimpse of beauty, but a hazy grayness stalled along the ridge. Then, he heard a bluebird’s song faintly amidst the fruit trees below. “Ah, a sweet sign from the Lord. Am I finally to meet Him?”
The splintered door opened laggardly. A man stood before Isaac in sweat-soddened garb and woven sandals. His gracious smile set in shadowed stubble. “Come in. Sit down, young Isaac.” The chair’s tattered burlap rubbed against Isaac’s addled soul. The walls were empty of expected adornments, and the ceiling was barely tall enough to accommodate Isaac’s spindly stature.
The man poured a whistling brew into two tin cups and set one beside Isaac. He pulled up a plain wooden chair and sat adjacent. “You appear surprised.”
“I, I–” Isaac looked around. Then, his flustered glances stopped abruptly, and he pointed to the far wall opposite his chair. “That has to be the most beautiful Crucifix I have ever seen.”
The man raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips into a gentle smile. He went to the Crucifix and held it out to Isaac. “Please take it.”
Isaac stood and turned his back on the man. “ No, I cannot accept such a gift from you.”
“Your admiration for it pleases me. I’d like you to have it.” The man held it out to Isaac for a second time.
“You’re nothing but a pauper! I am here to meet the Lord! Only He should offer me such a beautiful piece. I’m sure it belongs to Him!”
The man nodded and placed the Crucifix on the table. His penciled smile line opened as he sipped his brew. “Please, sit back down and drink my offering, young Isaac.”
Isaac pushed his cup nearer the man and looked away.
“You confuse me, Isaac. Are you not happy with the house of the Lord?”
Isaac fell to his knees and raised his fists. “This can not be the house of the Lord!”
“Isaac, please–wipe your tears–” The man reached down and offered him a clean linen swatch. “--know this is the house of the Lord.”
Still knelt at his feet, Isaac pushed away the linen in the man's hand and pounded the floor with his palm. “Stop! Stop your mockery and prove this is His house!” He straightened on his knees and gazed upward. “Prove it to me, pauper!”
The man gathered enough garb in his palms to expose his poorly woven sandals. “Look down, young Isaac.” As he did, his gaze fixed on the bloodied wounds atop the man’s feet.
“Rise, please, stand before me.” When he extended his reach to lift Isaac from his knees, Isaac saw through the gaping wounds in the man’s hands.
Their eyes met briefly as he stood, and with a reassuring smile, the man placed his palm on Isaac’s shoulder.
Isaac turned and went to where the Crucifix had been placed. He followed the contours of the nailed figure on the cross with his finger and carried the Crucifix to the man he referred to as the pauper. He knelt before him. “I accept your gift, but my gift to You is that this shall forever remain in the House of the Lord.”
Life After Death contest entry
With his chest bridged and his arms out at his sides, Isaac spoke in a raised voice. “I’ve lived life through your eyes, my Lord. I’ve followed in Your footsteps, rejoiced with Your people, and read from Your scriptures. So, I don’t understand. Why have you brought me to his hell before Your Heaven? Is the splintered wooden door I stand before the Golden Gates You promised to welcome me through? If this is where I must wait for Your promised riches, then so be it. But give me a sign You are here!”
Isaac wheeled around and yelled into the grayish nothingness. “Surely, when I turn, the Golden Gates will be before me!” As he did, a dim light flickered above his head, and the heaved cement raised the arches of his feet as he stepped. His brows furrowed. “Is this the welcoming light and the crystal pathway that leads to Your marble throne?”
He looked away in disappointment and stared into the shambled scape. To his left, a scant stream of water trickled over ascending rocks where, below, fruit trees withered. “Am I to drink and feast on this? Surely, when I touch the fruit and cup the water, the fruit will turn sweet and the water plentiful.”
He looked up at the mountains, desperate to find one glimpse of beauty, but a hazy grayness stalled along the ridge. Then, he heard a bluebird’s song faintly amidst the fruit trees below. “Ah, a sweet sign from the Lord. Am I finally to meet Him?”
The splintered door opened laggardly. A man stood before Isaac in sweat-soddened garb and woven sandals. His gracious smile set in shadowed stubble. “Come in. Sit down, young Isaac.” The chair’s tattered burlap rubbed against Isaac’s addled soul. The walls were empty of expected adornments, and the ceiling was barely tall enough to accommodate Isaac’s spindly stature.
The man poured a whistling brew into two tin cups and set one beside Isaac. He pulled up a plain wooden chair and sat adjacent. “You appear surprised.”
“I, I–” Isaac looked around. Then, his flustered glances stopped abruptly, and he pointed to the far wall opposite his chair. “That has to be the most beautiful Crucifix I have ever seen.”
The man raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips into a gentle smile. He went to the Crucifix and held it out to Isaac. “Please take it.”
Isaac stood and turned his back on the man. “ No, I cannot accept such a gift from you.”
“Your admiration for it pleases me. I’d like you to have it.” The man held it out to Isaac for a second time.
“You’re nothing but a pauper! I am here to meet the Lord! Only He should offer me such a beautiful piece. I’m sure it belongs to Him!”
The man nodded and placed the Crucifix on the table. His penciled smile line opened as he sipped his brew. “Please, sit back down and drink my offering, young Isaac.”
Isaac pushed his cup nearer the man and looked away.
“You confuse me, Isaac. Are you not happy with the house of the Lord?”
Isaac fell to his knees and raised his fists. “This can not be the house of the Lord!”
“Isaac, please–wipe your tears–” The man reached down and offered him a clean linen swatch. “--know this is the house of the Lord.”
Still knelt at his feet, Isaac pushed away the linen in the man's hand and pounded the floor with his palm. “Stop! Stop your mockery and prove this is His house!” He straightened on his knees and gazed upward. “Prove it to me, pauper!”
The man gathered enough garb in his palms to expose his poorly woven sandals. “Look down, young Isaac.” As he did, his gaze fixed on the bloodied wounds atop the man’s feet.
“Rise, please, stand before me.” When he extended his reach to lift Isaac from his knees, Isaac saw through the gaping wounds in the man’s hands.
Their eyes met briefly as he stood, and with a reassuring smile, the man placed his palm on Isaac’s shoulder.
Isaac turned and went to where the Crucifix had been placed. He followed the contours of the nailed figure on the cross with his finger and carried the Crucifix to the man he referred to as the pauper. He knelt before him. “I accept your gift, but my gift to You is that this shall forever remain in the House of the Lord.”
 Recognized |
Artwork by avmurray at FanArtReview.com
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