Tagged: religion

I Stand in the Rain

  • by jencan’t you hear the thunder?
  • “You shut up!”
  • one gold, one black
  • brown skin and a flat skull
  • Leonard is a strange person

I stand in the rain, gazing at the man beside me. Leonard is a strange person, but undeniably attractive. His eyes entrance me, one gold, one black, nestled in brown skin and a flat skull like faberge eggs in an ornate display case.

I try to tell him I love him, but he leans in close. “Can’t you hear the thunder?” he whispers in my ear, making me shiver. “That rumbling is Zeus’s way of saying ‘You shut up!’ to us mortals.”

I try once more to speak. Leonard’s ornately colored eyes hold mine and he lays his finger across my lips. “Shhh,” he breathes, “you don’t want to anger Zeus.”

And he’s right. I don’t. I lean in and press my lips to his just as a bright bolt of lightning illuminates the sky.

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The Floodgates Were Opened

  • k-avatarIt never ended.
  • were opened three times a day
  • indistinguishable from the rustling of a tree
  • Limping up to the altar
  • graveyards for machines

The floodgates were opened three times a day, to manage the pressure. Beatitude manifested spontaneously in the cold stone building. It never ended. And if it wasn’t bled off on a regular schedule, the strain would become too much for the ornate stained-glass windows to handle.

No one could go inside, of course.  Too intense. Just being within a two-block radius at any of the thrice-daily ventings of surplus divine grace tended to overload most people’s sensibilities. No one lived that close to the cathedral anymore. Respectable businesses couldn’t operate in the hot zone, so the textile district had shifted north, abandoning the old work floors to be graveyards for machines.

I camped under a disused loom in one of the old mills, just yards from one of the huge double doorways that served as relief valves. After two days I felt accustomed to the bizarre climate of the zone, like a mountaineer adjusting to thinner air. But already my skin was raw and my mind was growing brittle. I had to make my move.

I knew the floodgate schedule well, so I was ready when the doors gave forth their gust of rose-scented golden light. I was off to one side, and dashed inside the building after the radiance had diminished, seconds before the doors boomed shut again.

The bird roosted on the pulpit. I couldn’t look directly at it, the glow from its plumage was too dazzling. The pressure was building fast, but I knew that right now it was as low as it ever got. Limping up to the altar, I shut my eyes and groped toward the shining creature. I only needed one feather.

The bird spread its huge wings with a sound indistinguishable from the rustling of a tree. I kept my eyes closed tight and leaned forward until I feared I would lose my balance. I strained to reach the shimmering avian beast.

I only needed one feather.

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I Think Our Troublesome Renegade

  • k-avatarthe priest tucked her in
  • profusely awkward
  • our troublesome renegade
  • display her milk-heavy udders
  • you did it up brown!
  • they are also cannibals

“I think our troublesome renegade will like this room. It should make her feel at home.”

Sheila followed Stefan into the upstairs bedroom, eager to see the redecorating. “You did it up brown!” she squealed, knowing instantly that Tarantella would indeed like it. And without any curtains, it would be profusely awkward for the horny savage to display her milk-heavy udders to Father Shultz at naptime when the priest tucked her in.

“Oh, it’s perfect,” she murmured. “Stefan, you know so much about poor ‘Tella’s people, and their preference for earthtones. They are religiously attached to somber colors.”

“They are also cannibals, so tell Shultzy to be careful.”

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Gladiola Sincerely Hoped

  • by jengroup prayer
  • informality prevails
  • lavish ceremonialism
  • genitals

Gladiola sincerely hoped that the large crowd would respect the lavish ceremonialism she had striven for when arranging the group prayer, and that it wouldn’t degenerate into one of the boorish affairs where informality prevails and the men feel compelled to expose their genitals.

bonus points for using them all in one sentence!

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Helga was a witch

  • k-avatarcertainly gambled and caroused
  • the face of that terrible woman
  • in the pastor’s opinion
  • monstrous Stalinist-vintage building
  • dotted with bright red poppies
  • seven-fingered human hand

Helga was a witch, in the pastor’s opinion.

His suspicions could have derived from her propensity for filthy hair and cackling laughter, or the evidence that she more than occasionally butchered stray cats. It could have owed something to her sordid past, when she had certainly gambled and caroused, or the fact that she dwelled in seclusion in a monstrous Stalinist-vintage building situated incongruously amid waving grasses dotted with bright red poppies. But no.

It was all because of the simple fact that any time pastor saw the face of that terrible woman his mind filled with the ghostly image of a seven-fingered human hand.

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Marguerite Entertained a Feeling

  • k-avatarclearly jacked around
  • a feeling of ennui
  • sitting passively while her mother combed her hair
  • Rabbis singing
  • a minor avalanche

Marguerite entertained a feeling of ennui, even sitting passively while her mother combed her hair. In the hallway she heard Rabbis singing, their stentorian chant releasing a minor avalanche of Gentile spiders fleeing the resounding Yiddish. The apartment in the synagogue had cheap rent, but the landlord clearly jacked around Marguerite’s impressionable mother.

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The Latest Fad Religion

  • by jenthe most fabulous unheard-of things
  • I love my gold!
  • “Remote control, perhaps?”
  • discontinuous orthodragonality
  • some dank, phosphorescent cocoon
  • stirred the subatomic dough

The latest fad religion, Discontinuous Orthodragonality, is quickly replacing Kabbalah among the Hollywood elite. Orthodragonality priests remind the rich and famous that dragons are known for hoarding treasure, and preach that greed is desirable. They encourage Orthodragonality neophytes to become comfortable proclaiming, “I love my gold!”

Their sermons recount tales of the most fabulous unheard-of things, like the ancient silver dragon who sat in some dank, phosphorescent cocoon and stirred the subatomic dough for one week until the world was created.

At the end of the services, the believers rise together to sing a hymn, such as the all-time favorite about the mystery of how the dragons control the universe, entitled “Remote Control, Perhaps?”

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The Kremlin Cupolas Shone

  • k-avatarslapped the monk’s face
  • stop shooting, you fools!
  • most novices ate it with relish
  • work intelligently, rather than spectacularly
  • the Kremlin cupolas shone against a pale summer sky
  • “Go ahead, kiss her.”

The Kremlin cupolas shone against a pale summer sky, and bells rang out the lunchtime hour. Since its conversion into a  monastery, the former fortress boasted far fewer tanks, and marginally better food.

Brother Ivan wished the cooks would strive to work intelligently, rather than spectacularly. Years of eating the ornate fare left him bored by all the gold leaf and sugar sculptures, although most novices ate it with relish.

The walls shook, signaling that some of those novices were skipping lunch to play in a tank, and had found some ammunition. “Stop shooting, you fools!” screamed the abbot as he charged outside.

After the meal, Ivan strolled in Red Square with Brother Boris. They came upon a pretty young lady with a sign reading, “Smoochies, $1.”

“Go ahead, kiss her,” Ivan suggested. The woman slapped the monk’s face. “Pay first,” she insisted.

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Winter Had Been Going On For So Long

  • by jenamid a gush of bright blood
  • into the shepherd’s hut
  • thought snow, felt snow, smelled snow
  • her husband is even more wonderful
  • dreamlike and dim

Winter had been going on for so long, I thought snow, felt snow, smelled snow in my clothes where I usually smelled my husband’s cigarettes. It was depressing. Add to that my hopes of motherhood disappearing amid a gush of bright blood in my underpants this morning and my mood was pretty bleak. That’s when my sister called to brag about her family. Her children are darling little angels, she assures me every time, and just this morning little Sally was playing with her Fisher Price farm set and put the little baby people person into the shepherd’s hut and called him Jesus. Precious. Of course I envy my sister. Her husband is even more wonderful than her children, whereas mine always has this look in his eyes that is both dreamlike and dim.

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Roger Joined the Crowd

  • by jena ceremony of solemnity and grandeur
  • caught her round the waist
  • fairly jigging with frustration
  • governmental-seeming buildings
  • device in the leather bindings

Roger joined the crowd approaching the governmental-seeming buildings to see what all the fuss was about. They were fairly jigging with frustration for the gates to open. Roger came to the slow understanding that the buildings were not governmental, but religious, but by then it was too late and he could not escape the throng’s gravity. He was swept inside on a surge of humanity and grudgingly took up a position near the middle.

Like all religious rites, Roger expected this to be a ceremony of solemnity and grandeur and was prepared to be very bored. His attitude changed when the curtains were drawn back, exposing a large aquarium which housed an enormous blue octopus. A young woman wearing a leafy headdress and a pink bikini was lowered over the tank and began to sing. Apparently there was a microphonic device in the leather bindings suspending her, because Roger could hear her quite well. Her voice was not very good.

Just then, the octopus reached one long cerulean tentacle out of the water and caught her round the waist.

Her amplified screams rang through the building, and her safety tether snapped.

Roger looked away as her leafy headdress slipped beneath the waves.

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