"To day shalt thou be with me in paradise."
I shit you not, that's exactly what He said.
Nice of Him to say, but I don't feel much better. After all, I'm hanging there with these big old spikes through my hands, and I'm staring down at myself and just wishing they'd crucified me with my pants on. Now, I've got nothing to be ashamed of, but there isn't anybody going up on that tree looking fully staffed, if you know what I mean.
Now, maybe you've never been crucified before, so you don't have a point for comparison. To give you some idea what it feels like... actually, you know what? I don't think I want to give you too much detail. Let's just say it's kind of like having your lungs ripped through your wrists and tied up around your neck.
Is that not descriptive enough for you? Your morbid curiosity not satisfied? Well, just in case you ever decide to experience crucifixion for yourself, I don't want to be the one who ruined the surprise.
So finally,
finally I black out, and it's nothing at all like being asleep. I feel conscious, completely aware of my surroundings, but there's nothing there. No surroundings. I don't feel any pain, sure, but really I don't feel anything at all... and frankly that's a relief at this point. I try to wiggle my fingers, but nothing moves. I can't even look down to see if my fingers are still there, or if I'm just some flatulent ghost trailing vapors as I go. I just kind of, you know,
am.
And seriously, the whole time, the only thing I could think about was how crazy I'd go if I got an itch on my
beytsim.
I drift like that, no sense of movement or direction, for what feels like a dull eternity. Eventually, I see this blinking light off in the distance. A little prick of light is all it was, but looking at it hurt like hell. It grows broader and larger, slicing the darkness in half. All at once, there's up and down again. There's depth, too, and a horizon of sorts that I'm heading for. I can see exactly how far away the light is and what it's illuminating.
There's a small congregation just lolling around what looks like a field of clouds. Everyone's dressed in white robes, and they've got these golden ropes tied around their waists. I can't make out what they're walking in; their feet are completely covered by ground, whatever it is. They're talking to each other. I can't hear what they're saying - their voices mash together in that polite, thunderous muttering you hear in a crowd right before someone gets up to speak.
My wrist spasms, and I realize I can actually move again. I look down towards my feet, expecting to see myself wearing the same robes as everyone else is. I'm not, of course. I'm wearing the same thing I was wearing back on Calvary. So I'm quick to cover my last hanging shred of dignity just as some woman in the crowd catches sight of me and points.
Trying not to move my hands, I kick vainly against the air. Still I keep falling closer and closer to the field of clouds and all those staring eyes. Something tells me not to be afraid, but I can't help it. I do not want to land.
That's when the creepiest thing happens. All the talking has stopped. Everyone looks up at my flailing naked body and smiles. They don't laugh or gossip. They just watch me, tight-lipped and silent, while I descend. My feet touch ground, and it's like they sink in a little bit before they find something solid. It trips me up, and I fall back, landing right on my
tuchis.
And then He's there, and, you know, He's not awkward or gawkish at all. He walks right up to me, hoists me up, and He smiles. I can see all of his teeth. He puts His arm around my naked shoulder, and He says to me, "There's someone here you
have to meet."
He walks me around and introduces me to all His friends - and it's no surprise, but He is friends with everybody. He walks me around the crowd and recites everyone's names just like that. It took hours... or maybe days. In a place like that, who can tell?
And through it all, these folks just keep smiling and nodding. I think one of them maybe said he was sorry I died. They just stare at me, with these rigid eyes, not even daring to duck their heads a little bit.
Maybe you've forgotten, but I've been naked this whole time.
I finally turn to Him, and I whisper, like a kid talking to his father in public, that maybe I could get some pants or something. He gets this big grin - a different kind of grin than the last one. He had a thousand ways of communicating with a smile, and each smile was completely different. This one actually looked pleasantly embarrassed. He says, "Of course. I forgot."
He walks off to get me a robe, and I'm left there wondering - and I'm sorry if this sounds blasphemous, but I doubt that matters now - but I say to myself, "How could he just forget?" I mean, He just came here the same way I did. Did He land, sparkly robe already in place? Or were His holy whatsits hanging out, too?
Just as He leaves, the murmur starts. They were all talking before I landed. I could hear them then, but they've been dead silent since He appeared. Now they're whispering and pointing, and I know I heard someone snicker. I look around, and, every time I turn, these people just look at me politely and nod. Thelre's nothing around worth laughing at that I can see, except, of course, for the skinny man in the middle of the group with his hands clasped solemnly over himself.
I can't take it anymore. I start making my way through the crowd, politely at first, all ducked eyes and "excuse me, pleases." The crowd is endless - every time I move past one smirking angel, there's another ten right behind. I start to run now, not even making a pretense of covering up anymore. The robed people move out of my way, and they just keep watching me. Finally, I get to the lip, where the cloudy floor spills off into the darkness like a waterfall.
And then I hear His voice again. "Don't go," He says. "Please."
But I had to go. Of course I did. I don't think He'd understand if I stayed and tried to explain it. I just had to go. I'm sure
you understand, just sitting here listening to me, but He never could. At least, I don't think he could. So I jumped, and it was back out into the darkness for me. I found myself floating again, and then I landed here, and here you are.
I guess that's the whole story. So to answer your question: Heaven, you know, seemed like a nice enough place. Can't say much for the wardrobe, although the creepy robes were better than my choice of evening wear, I suppose. As for the place itself? Serene, you could say. Like a warm bath. Just not the place for me, I guess.
Okay, guys, this was a tough one for me personally. The blasphemy, the cursing... It's not really the sort of thing I actually want to write. However, the purpose of this little writing project is to try new things, to understand writing styles and techniques I haven't used traditionally. And this? FAR from my usual style.
However... well, this story just WOULDN'T work without the profanity. Seriously, I re-wrote that first line several times, and without the cursing, it just doesn't set the correct tone. The entire point of the story (authorial meddling here) is to explore the idea at a sinful person wouldn't WANT to go to heaven because he wouldn't feel comfortable there. And, frankly, if the narrator was all reverent and soft-spoken, he wouldn't seem all that out of place in heaven.
Special thanks to heidikins for her advice!
The picture started off a little more ornate than it wound up. I also finished the picture before I figured out the tone I was going for. Again, the two don't quite line up. But look at that gradual fade from blue to black, huh? I think it's pretty cool.
