Rising From The Dead
The giggling. The taunting. The harmony. The emotion, the fun, the honest excitement!
Was I dead? Were those dolls? God had a penchant for dolls, from what childish thought I had--hmmm, it was true, then.
I saw Him, examining his colorful collection in a mob...but there was one missing, and he was looking for her.
"I don't understand...what do you want? You have so many pretty dolls, my Lord. You don't want a broken one. Even the kitty looks nice...unless this isn't heaven at all, and I've been tricked into thinking so. My left eye is fine, but my right is blurry. My tongue speaks wickedness, my mind is scattered about..."
He smiled, as Mary had, and I looked at the mob of pretty dolls. I hoped, nay, prayed that I wasn't right in my prediction, because that sounded more like hell than heaven. I wouldn't have expected Him to say a word from what I knew of His associates, he liked to speak through others, especially his wife.
"...what I wonder, is--do you feel...do you feel...do you feel...anything here? If it's so adventurous..."