sending you down there as an infant. And then you’ll see how it is to be a mere human.”
Jesus glanced down to earth and saw the trail of blood scrawling the letters: ESUS. Disappointed that the J on the rock had lost its glow, Jesus glanced up in search of his father. He whispered his name, but no reply came.
Jesus smiled and set his sights on the field where Solomon was looking down at the body of Jonas. He pulled Solomon’s body off the ground and, with one swoop, Jesus painted the rock with a J and quickly disposed of the human’s body.
Jesus stared down at his drawing as his father’s voice yelled at him from above. “I warned you, little one! Now you will have to face the consequences.”
Before Jesus could beg or argue, he found himself lodged in a warm place of fluids and darkness. He felt his features in the darkness, noticing the solid wall of human flesh now covering his entire body. He wiggled blindly amongst the fluid and pushed against the elastic edges of his confinement, but found himself trapped, awaiting his release.
CHOCOLATE JESUS
Sunday school was no place to be on a gorgeous summer day. Ms. Larson would rattle on about how Jesus did this and Jesus did that and how everybody was going to burn in hell if they didn’t live their lives like snobby little pricks who judge everyone else.
Alex hated church. His mother forked over five bucks each Sunday for him to put in the collection plate, but, instead, he’d hike on over to Louie’s candy store and buy himself an assortment of candies and chocolates.
His mother never knew. She was always wrapped up with Nick. Though the guy was half her age, she hung all over him like he was the last guy on earth. She stopped going to church altogether and started getting on her knees for other things instead.
Alex kicked up a cloud of dirt down the alleyway as he stared back at his house. The shingles on the roof whistled in the wind and the gutters were filled with plant life. Things had gone from bad to worse since his father had been killed in a car wreck almost two years ago.
And that’s why he hated church so much. If Jesus really existed, then his father would never have died so young. How could someone so powerful and good let something so bad happen? Preacher Roberts had said that everything happens for a reason and when Alex asked why, the preacher simply shrugged his shoulders and patted him on the head.
That was the last time he attended.
As always, Alex arrived at the candy store and purchased a chocolate bar with the collection money his mom had sent with him. He sat on a park bench outside the store and watched Sunday-goers pass along the street. He leaned back on the bench and let the warm sun cascade down his arms and face. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.
By the time he awoke, the sun had melted his chocolate to the park bench. Alex noticed its shape had distorted in the heat in a strange way. And Alex almost pissed his pants as he looked upon a tiny figure of Jesus staring back with chocolate eyes.
Alex rubbed his eyes and shook his head, as if the motion might knock him from a deep slumber and a fitful dream. But the chocolate figure only crossed his arms and waited silently.
The figure’s face was sculpted almost perfectly as in the various portraits his mom had hung across her bedroom walls. With the same beard and pleading, gentle eyes, this figure sported a wavy robe and sandals just like Alex would have pictured Him wearing.
“Tell me your troubles, my son,” the figure spoke clearly, as if the sound had been transported from some insane puppet master, channeling the speech solely into Alex’s ears.
Alex stuttered, then shifted to the other side of the park bench, trying to ignore the strange little man made of pure chocolate.
“Don’t be afraid, Alex. I am the light of the world, remember?”
Alex glanced around, afraid that someone might walk by
Jesus glanced down to earth and saw the trail of blood scrawling the letters: ESUS. Disappointed that the J on the rock had lost its glow, Jesus glanced up in search of his father. He whispered his name, but no reply came.
Jesus smiled and set his sights on the field where Solomon was looking down at the body of Jonas. He pulled Solomon’s body off the ground and, with one swoop, Jesus painted the rock with a J and quickly disposed of the human’s body.
Jesus stared down at his drawing as his father’s voice yelled at him from above. “I warned you, little one! Now you will have to face the consequences.”
Before Jesus could beg or argue, he found himself lodged in a warm place of fluids and darkness. He felt his features in the darkness, noticing the solid wall of human flesh now covering his entire body. He wiggled blindly amongst the fluid and pushed against the elastic edges of his confinement, but found himself trapped, awaiting his release.
CHOCOLATE JESUS
Sunday school was no place to be on a gorgeous summer day. Ms. Larson would rattle on about how Jesus did this and Jesus did that and how everybody was going to burn in hell if they didn’t live their lives like snobby little pricks who judge everyone else.
Alex hated church. His mother forked over five bucks each Sunday for him to put in the collection plate, but, instead, he’d hike on over to Louie’s candy store and buy himself an assortment of candies and chocolates.
His mother never knew. She was always wrapped up with Nick. Though the guy was half her age, she hung all over him like he was the last guy on earth. She stopped going to church altogether and started getting on her knees for other things instead.
Alex kicked up a cloud of dirt down the alleyway as he stared back at his house. The shingles on the roof whistled in the wind and the gutters were filled with plant life. Things had gone from bad to worse since his father had been killed in a car wreck almost two years ago.
And that’s why he hated church so much. If Jesus really existed, then his father would never have died so young. How could someone so powerful and good let something so bad happen? Preacher Roberts had said that everything happens for a reason and when Alex asked why, the preacher simply shrugged his shoulders and patted him on the head.
That was the last time he attended.
As always, Alex arrived at the candy store and purchased a chocolate bar with the collection money his mom had sent with him. He sat on a park bench outside the store and watched Sunday-goers pass along the street. He leaned back on the bench and let the warm sun cascade down his arms and face. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.
By the time he awoke, the sun had melted his chocolate to the park bench. Alex noticed its shape had distorted in the heat in a strange way. And Alex almost pissed his pants as he looked upon a tiny figure of Jesus staring back with chocolate eyes.
Alex rubbed his eyes and shook his head, as if the motion might knock him from a deep slumber and a fitful dream. But the chocolate figure only crossed his arms and waited silently.
The figure’s face was sculpted almost perfectly as in the various portraits his mom had hung across her bedroom walls. With the same beard and pleading, gentle eyes, this figure sported a wavy robe and sandals just like Alex would have pictured Him wearing.
“Tell me your troubles, my son,” the figure spoke clearly, as if the sound had been transported from some insane puppet master, channeling the speech solely into Alex’s ears.
Alex stuttered, then shifted to the other side of the park bench, trying to ignore the strange little man made of pure chocolate.
“Don’t be afraid, Alex. I am the light of the world, remember?”
Alex glanced around, afraid that someone might walk by