Sunday, December 9, 2012

Dead Rite chapter 133.11

“Are you saying God eats souls?”

Harold spread out his hands in a how-should-I-know gesture. “Who can say? Certainly not me, since I can never go to Heaven and see for myself. Do you know anyone in Heaven you could ask? Of course you don't. You've never seen anyone come back from Heaven.”

“I've never seen anyone come back from Hell, either.”

“I have. You met Julie, as I recall.”

“She was alive then.”

“Well I met her mother when she returned from Hell. Only she was a giant talking fly with a stinger like a rapier blade. She wasn't exactly a happy, smiling spirit.”

“Ugh. Do all souls come back like that?”

“She was nephilim. What do you expect? To be fair, the form was thought out by St. John for his 'Revelations' novel, but he was on an early form of absinthe at the time. He thought they would help him see God.”

“And did they?”

“Not exactly. You could say they helped him remain pious for the rest of his life.”

“Because of the visions of demons?”

“No, because he died shortly after writing it all down. Liver failure from drinking fermented wormwood. He trusted God, you see. 'All thing on the earth are yours to consume.' But no mention of the perils of distilling poisons.”

“Makes sense, I suppose.” They reached the end of the corridor and Dill pressed the button for the elevator. “Wait, though. Heaven is the perfection of the soul, the ultimate afterlife. Why would anyone ever come back from that?”

“Which is exactly what they say to the chickens in the battery sheds.”

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