{"id":97,"date":"2010-04-12T22:23:49","date_gmt":"2010-04-13T02:23:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thefourpartland.com\/blog\/?p=97"},"modified":"2011-04-27T17:08:07","modified_gmt":"2011-04-27T22:08:07","slug":"heaven","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/thefourpartland.com\/blog\/?p=97","title":{"rendered":"Heaven"},"content":{"rendered":"

Not quite my usual fare for a flash fiction, but I was feeling a little more pensive than usual, so it probably reflects my mood. Let me know what you think.<\/em><\/p>\n

The boy wandered down the aisles of the church, his mind it all at ease and wander. He had come here for a purpose, but what that purpose had been he could no longer remember. Instead, he found himself staring upwards, fascination with the carvings overwhelming his sense of worry. Shrugging, he found himself a pew and sat there, looking at the giant cross that hung suspended in the nave.<\/p>\n

Covered in gold filigree and beautiful carvings, it reminded the boy of nothing so much as a blossoming tree, reflecting the light in oh so many directions, light that played all across the inside of the stone church. He felt comfortable here, as if he had come home, and his worry drained away. Whatever his task had been, it could wait until later days.<\/p>\n

The light within the chapel shifted from the left to the right, and still the boy sat there, his eyes caught on that cross, his mind soaring upwards, twisting through flights of fancy to wing its way towards the heavenly gates. He arrived at the gates to find that they were barred, and standing before them was an apologetic angel. With a silent gesture of negation, the angel sent the boy tumbling earthwards, his mind reeling.<\/p>\n

He arrived back in his body with a great cry, tears dampening his cheeks. Fury and passion and anger rolled across his face and he grew violent, tossing away the pew upon which he sat. For many minutes he stormed, tossing the furniture and the furnishings about the church until it looked a ruin. Yet he would not touch the cross, nor pass the line of the altar.<\/p>\n

His anger spent, the boy slumped down on a broken chair, and cried to himself. He had been rejected, he still did not remember what he was meant to do, and he had destroyed works of art. Remorse stole throughout his body, leaving him a quivering pile until, at last, the boy regained control of his emotions. With a face blank of expression and puffy from tears, he slipped away, disappearing out into the cold world beyond.<\/p>\n

The figure on the cross spoke then, his eyes fixing the altar with a stare. \u201cThis happens every Sunday, Father. He tries to ascend and you do not let him.\u201d From the altar came the sound of a sigh. \u201cI wish I could, my son, but he is Damien, and to let him into heaven would cause all this to fail. And so I must turn away an innocent, a boy purer of heart and of mind than many who have passed through the gates.\u201d The statue on the cross let his eyes fall to the floor. \u201cI know, Father, I know. But it wrenches my heart.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMine too.\u201d The altar and the cross looked towards the grand doors of the church, where the boy had long since departed, and both cried, their eyes wet with blood.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Not quite my usual fare for a flash fiction, but I was feeling a little more pensive than usual, so it probably reflects my mood. Let me know what you think. The boy wandered down the aisles of the church, his mind it all at ease and wander. He had come here for a purpose, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[36,4],"tags":[21],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/sRIK4-heaven","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":469,"url":"http:\/\/thefourpartland.com\/blog\/?p=469","url_meta":{"origin":97,"position":0},"title":"Me","date":"April 8, 2011","format":false,"excerpt":"Light! Dark? Yet both at once... Strange. Perhaps I dream? Or are they yet me.","rel":"","context":"In "Flash Fiction"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":432,"url":"http:\/\/thefourpartland.com\/blog\/?p=432","url_meta":{"origin":97,"position":1},"title":"Imaginary Friends","date":"February 6, 2011","format":false,"excerpt":"There exists among all things a strange connection, one that cannot be defined. Philosophers will argue its existence, physicists will try to test for its presence, but none cannot prove it, or even truly explain it. Yet ask a little boy, and he knows, for he can see beyond the\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Flash Fiction"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":428,"url":"http:\/\/thefourpartland.com\/blog\/?p=428","url_meta":{"origin":97,"position":2},"title":"Threshold","date":"February 4, 2011","format":false,"excerpt":"A hut stood upon the strand. Driftwood had formed it, all angles and pieces piled on. Seaweed was wedged into the gaps. 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