The New Testament

November 15, 2006 at 10:23 am (Blue Kansas)

 

We entered a reception room
Plain, in the style of the last century
With just a few pieces of simple, solid wood furniture
A long table, a few chairs, a smaller end table
A large oak barrel in the corner
And a painting of Jesus praying 
Sitting in one of the chairs was a minister
In a plain, dark suit with a collar
He stood up and walked towards us
Coming up very close and looking us over
Curious and yet calm
“Where might you be going?”
“We would like to see the foundation of the house. Can we go downstairs?”
“No, that’s not allowed,” he said abruptly. “You don’t need to go there. It wouldn’t be of any use to you.”
“You don’t know why we are here or what might or might not be of use to us.”
“And you don’t know why I am here, ” he answered sternly. “No, you must turn back.”
We took a seat by the table and opened a pack of cigarettes.
“Would you like one? ” I asked.
“No, never smoke,” he replied.
“Of course.”
We sat quietly a few minutes smoking.
“Of what church are you? ” I asked.
“Christian.”
“Yes, but there are many varieties. What denomination are you?”
“To you there may be many varieties, but in that you are mistaken.”
“I see”. There was another long pause. “Well, we must push forward.” I said moving toward the basement door.
“I’m afraid not,” he replied pulling out what appeared to be a scythe. It was quite old and the blade was covered either with rust or dry blood, or perhaps both. He showed no emotion, it merely held it in his hand as if the gesture itself should prove a sufficient deterrent.
I responded by pulling out a thin, leather covered book from my pocket.
“The New Testament, ” I said handing it to him, “You can read it while we look.”
And with that we slid past him and opened the door. He offered no resistance.

Randolph David Emerson 

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