CedoesTrees
One Time Luck
*This, except the zombies, is biblically accurate.
*General warnings for language, themes and judicious interpretation of the old testament.
*I'm trying to get my 10 posts so I can make off-site ads.
On a low hill edging the Valley of Dry Bones, Ezekiel waited obediently for God’s sign. He’d been whisked away on the backs of angels once again, pulled from bed in the blue mid-night to stand and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
When His Voice came, it boomed into his skull mid-sentence, something about people worshiping the sun and how they would be smote. Or smitten? Regardless, it sounded unpleasant.
God went on to call his country a whore - and not just any whore, but a slut because it would rather pay big-dicked Egyptians for protection. Why didn’t his country trust God? Huh?
Ezekiel dug his thumb nail into his walking stick, making ‘x’ patterns in the wood until the Lord cooled off.
Finally, God acknowledged his prophet and said, “Ezekiel, son of man, do you think the dead can live again?” God’s voice cracked at the end, and Ezekiel knew the cost of a wrong answer, “Is this a trick question, oh Lord?” God ignored him and cut in swiftly, “Prophecy to the bones, now! Say to them “Oh…bones. Live! Get some flesh on you! Stop being bones!”
“Fine,” Ezekiel muttered, “I mean yes, oh Lord!”
He stepped up to the top of the hill and turned to the valley below, clearing his throat before announcing “Hello dry bones! Hear the word of the Lord and rise up!” At his command, the ground trembled. Clicking rattled through the valley as skeletons reformed, bones locked together with new sinew that righted the joints. Ribs hopped along the ground, ordering themselves like a drum line that snap-snapped back together. Flesh folded over the carcasses like woven blankets and new skin bloomed into place.
One of the earliest risen, closest to Ezekiel, gathered herself upright before the rest. Her memories were a patchwork, but she certainly remembered dying. That made it all the more unusual to be walking around in a big pit as she was fairly certain she did alright by religious standards those days. Once her eyes had filled out and popped back into place, she could make out the prophet’s shadow against the heavens. When her ears reformed, she heard others behind her and turned to look. “Zombies!” she screamed and scrambled up the hill toward the one person who didn’t look half rotted.
“Uh, Hi! What’s happening here, pray tell?” she asked in a clipped, but polite tone.
“Congratulations! You’re alive again!” Ezekiel spoke deeply and gestured to the sky, “It is the will of God.”
She nodded, closing her eyes “Oh, of course, yes. That makes sense. So, there ought to be a good reason then?” She supposed, waiting on holy orders.
“Well normally yes!” Ezekiel kept a performative smile, and paused as though he was listening. His eyebrows nestled low over his nose for a few beats.
“Hello? Have you gone off on me?” The zombie asked, but he shook his head suddenly, continuing “No, no. You see, this miracle is more of a metaphor.”
“A metaphor,” She tried not to sound facetious in case God were listening, “For what?”
“Ahem, okay.” Ezekiel prepared his Prophet Voice to address the whole crowd at once. “Hello and welcome back to life. I would like to be the first to thank you all for participating in this visual metaphor for spiritual renewal. You should be pleased to have been chosen as the living embodiments of God’s promise for eternal life.”
“Oh Good,” she said, looking out at the sea of dusty old bodies and back down at her corroded feet. “I had enjoyed not experiencing the horrors of our particular age, but this is good too. How long do we have the…glory of being metaphors?”
“I’ll find out,” Ezekiel cocked his head to one side and looked to be stuck that way. Long minutes passed before the zombie piped up again. “Quite a long answer?”
“Erm, no” He broadened a wide, reassuring smile. “God has become otherwise engaged and very busy. But don’t fret, You will have your answer as soon as he gets back.”
*General warnings for language, themes and judicious interpretation of the old testament.
*I'm trying to get my 10 posts so I can make off-site ads.
On a low hill edging the Valley of Dry Bones, Ezekiel waited obediently for God’s sign. He’d been whisked away on the backs of angels once again, pulled from bed in the blue mid-night to stand and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
When His Voice came, it boomed into his skull mid-sentence, something about people worshiping the sun and how they would be smote. Or smitten? Regardless, it sounded unpleasant.
God went on to call his country a whore - and not just any whore, but a slut because it would rather pay big-dicked Egyptians for protection. Why didn’t his country trust God? Huh?
Ezekiel dug his thumb nail into his walking stick, making ‘x’ patterns in the wood until the Lord cooled off.
Finally, God acknowledged his prophet and said, “Ezekiel, son of man, do you think the dead can live again?” God’s voice cracked at the end, and Ezekiel knew the cost of a wrong answer, “Is this a trick question, oh Lord?” God ignored him and cut in swiftly, “Prophecy to the bones, now! Say to them “Oh…bones. Live! Get some flesh on you! Stop being bones!”
“Fine,” Ezekiel muttered, “I mean yes, oh Lord!”
He stepped up to the top of the hill and turned to the valley below, clearing his throat before announcing “Hello dry bones! Hear the word of the Lord and rise up!” At his command, the ground trembled. Clicking rattled through the valley as skeletons reformed, bones locked together with new sinew that righted the joints. Ribs hopped along the ground, ordering themselves like a drum line that snap-snapped back together. Flesh folded over the carcasses like woven blankets and new skin bloomed into place.
One of the earliest risen, closest to Ezekiel, gathered herself upright before the rest. Her memories were a patchwork, but she certainly remembered dying. That made it all the more unusual to be walking around in a big pit as she was fairly certain she did alright by religious standards those days. Once her eyes had filled out and popped back into place, she could make out the prophet’s shadow against the heavens. When her ears reformed, she heard others behind her and turned to look. “Zombies!” she screamed and scrambled up the hill toward the one person who didn’t look half rotted.
“Uh, Hi! What’s happening here, pray tell?” she asked in a clipped, but polite tone.
“Congratulations! You’re alive again!” Ezekiel spoke deeply and gestured to the sky, “It is the will of God.”
She nodded, closing her eyes “Oh, of course, yes. That makes sense. So, there ought to be a good reason then?” She supposed, waiting on holy orders.
“Well normally yes!” Ezekiel kept a performative smile, and paused as though he was listening. His eyebrows nestled low over his nose for a few beats.
“Hello? Have you gone off on me?” The zombie asked, but he shook his head suddenly, continuing “No, no. You see, this miracle is more of a metaphor.”
“A metaphor,” She tried not to sound facetious in case God were listening, “For what?”
“Ahem, okay.” Ezekiel prepared his Prophet Voice to address the whole crowd at once. “Hello and welcome back to life. I would like to be the first to thank you all for participating in this visual metaphor for spiritual renewal. You should be pleased to have been chosen as the living embodiments of God’s promise for eternal life.”
“Oh Good,” she said, looking out at the sea of dusty old bodies and back down at her corroded feet. “I had enjoyed not experiencing the horrors of our particular age, but this is good too. How long do we have the…glory of being metaphors?”
“I’ll find out,” Ezekiel cocked his head to one side and looked to be stuck that way. Long minutes passed before the zombie piped up again. “Quite a long answer?”
“Erm, no” He broadened a wide, reassuring smile. “God has become otherwise engaged and very busy. But don’t fret, You will have your answer as soon as he gets back.”
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