And God said to the woman – bring me back to life…

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This story opens with her, our heroine, standing at the edge of a flyover and looking at the slums below. The slums are spread far and wide, as far as her eyes can see – tiny make shift houses patched with whatever their dwellers could find, they are dirty and unclean and she can smell the slums. She narrows her eyes, presses her fingers together thinking how she will change all this, how she can change all of this, when suddenly a dark man jumps on a thatched roof and starts hollering at her – if you keep on making them young, if you take away their disease, if you continue to make them happy …

She, our heroine, looks curiously at this impoverished dark man – if I do then what?, she shouts back.

Why would you do that to me? I am so lonely up here…

Down there you mean, she corrects him.

I am so lonely up here, he repeats, why would you do that to me? People are supposed to die, you are making them live longer and longer and I am getting lonelier and lonelier. 

Her fingers loosen, her eyes widen. Death, she was speaking to death.

No, I am not death, death is not a being like me. Death is just terrible but it is necessary. Life must die for life to begin, the dark man laughed. You know who I am, you think of me when you narrow your eyes and you can feel me when your fingers move to create, I am him and I am her….I am god….yes it’s me and you are taking away from me much pleasant conversations with the just dead, I no longer know what to do, they no longer come to me, it is almost as if they do not need me since you have taken away the fear from them, why am I even here? Hey! here is an idea – why don’t you bring me back to life? Why don’t you bring me back here on earth? 

While she, our heroine was busy talking to god and dissecting his existential crisis, the tall lady in blue, our heroine’s love, was busy discussing her death plan with an even taller lady draped in red.

In a dirty alley a few months ago on a freezing winter night

Four souls are huddled close around a fire. The oldest soul shivers, wraps his threadbare brown blanket tighter around his chest and speaks –

there is a woman they say and I have seen her. She is tall and she has long brown hair and browner eyes, her fingers are thin and long, they are shaped like they can shape anything…she…she can make everything alright with her hands. You should see her, she sways her hands and she goes around growing trees and flowers, her hands dance to an inaudible lullaby and up sprouts a green and there grows a blue flower! She narrows her eyes and tightens her fingers and she creates food, no, no, really she does, she can make your hair grow and with a twist of her hand she can fill glasses with wine, she goes around making food appear and feeding the poor and also …

the oldest soul lowered his voice so that the others had to lean in to listen to him –

… and also she can bring the dead back to life…haha…no she can’t, no one can bring the dead back to life but she goes around making people younger and so people have stopped dying…


Next post in this story – Dungeons, Museums and Silent Promises

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Author: pecsbowen

reader.philosopher.writer

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