Oliver Sandy was eighty years old. He held an annual dinner to celebrate, by his definition, his resurrection. He stood at the head of the table, holding a giant mug of beer, his company, gripping crystal wine glasses, cheered him on.
“You made the journey here for one reason, to remain youthful.” He looked outside, windows raging the length of the room. The moonlight allowed the artifactual church, eaten by elements, to be seen. “We’ll journey there after we indulge in this nutrition. No need to tarry.”
The staff dumped piles of bloody meat onto each guest’s plate.
“A blessing.” Mr. Sandy slurped his up using chopsticks. The table psychotically laughed. “Yum, yum, yum.” He chanted, they joined in.
A lady reached for her napkin to erase the mess from her face. Oliver slammed his mug. “No! You will be cleansed by the natural hellbroth.” Quiet took over the room.
“When I stand, you stand, we all stand.” Giggling, he stood and walked towards the door, chairs slid from under the table, the people fell in line. They marched towards the church, halting at the water’s edge. Oliver kneeled, his reflection reminiscent of his youth. He sighed heavily. “What are you waiting for? Get down here and clean yourselves up.”
The earth shook, the moon and stars quenched, the skies cleared, the suns heat beat upon the changed ones. Additional stones from the church collapsed. “He wouldn’t give me heaven, but He gave you free will to choose me. There’s nothing wrong with remaining beautiful for an eternity here on earth. Souls, a minimal price to pay.” He knew there was no such as eternal earth. He belched loudly responding to his thoughts.
The born-again demons splashed and frolicked embracing their newfound youth. Oliver happily sang their assignments into their ears.
Leesa Writes 