Incarnation – #1

Incarnation – #1 – by bluedraggy

The fog broke around him, his vision slowly morphing from utter blackness to grey and finally to dazzling white. He stepped from the place where he had been to a new place. As if walking out of an old black and white movie of London, he slowly became aware of color. The clear, perfect blue sky above him was almost painfully blue. He found he was walking towards something. He had a goal, but he wasn’t exactly sure what it was or why he desired it. Still, whatever this place was, it was infinitely preferable to where he had been.

He focused as his mind became clearer on what he was seeing. From horizon to horizon stretched some sort of barred wall, broken only by a huge ornate gate which he realized was his destination. He looked down to see what he was walking on, but realized soon that he had no idea what it was – only that it was pure white and spotless. But the sight of his bare feet on that pristine floor was somehow disturbing – as if the touch of his feet on the unblemished ground was profane. Sacrilege. He paused. What was it he was walking on?

It wasn’t stone or marble. It was warm and soft. Yielding to his weight. He searched his memory. What was this? Who was he?

Then his thoughts shifted as he realized he was naked. Suddenly his mind was reeling. ‘Where WAS this’? ‘Who was he’? The answers came to him in a flood that literally floored him. His knees buckled and he fell screaming to the odd, soft ground. He lay there for a long time, eyes tightly shut, screaming until his throat hurt. No comfort came but that of the ground itself and the sun overhead. Yet, eventually, it was enough. The softness absorbed his tears that left no trace, and the sun shone on his skin. He stopped his outburst and chuckled slightly as he realized just where the sun was shining. “And they say it never shines there…” came unbidden to his mind.

He uncurled himself from the fetal ball he had assumed, got back onto his feet and looked towards the gate. There was a figure there, clad in white robes. The beard marked him as a man, but the wings marked him as something more than a man, as if the halo glowing with a gold intensity even from this distance above his head wasn’t enough. He knew his name. Instinctively he looked around for something to cover himself with, but there was nothing.

“You came naked into being on Earth, X. You leave it the same way. Do not be ashamed. We all come naked to our final destiny. Come,” said a low but kindly voice from the figure. It should not have been audible from this distance, but the Saint may as well have been standing next to him.

It was a long walk nevertheless. How long he couldn’t be sure, but the flapping of his genitalia against his legs made him as embarrassed as he had ever been.

The Saint laughed, as if reading his thoughts. “Relax man. We are what we are made. The Creator’s work is not something to be ashamed of. You were made a man, and a man you will always be. Now come, we have work to do.”

He relaxed, still embarrassed but also comforted somewhat. At least his body was not what it had become before his life had ended. It was, on examination, the body he had always thought of himself as having. It wasn’t the wrinkled, liver-spotted thing he had left behind. Nor was it the impossibly beautiful thing he had been in his youth. It lay somewhere between those two extremes, but it was undoubtedly his. Like a well-broken in pair of jeans that had not yet reached the ratty stage, but still had the wear of experience on it’s edges, he realized he was comfortable in it. It was… right.

The Saint’s eyes followed him as he came near at last. A thought struck him and he put a hand to his own chin.

The gatekeeper laughed again, a genuine, warm sound. “No, X. You won’t grow a beard here. You chose to shave in life, you are shaved here. Back in my time beards were a thing. Of course, we didn’t have razors either! So I get to keep mine.”

“You are Saint Peter,” he said, kneeling.

“Of course! But don’t kneel to me. I’m just a Saint. We have tons of Saints here. If you keep kneeling to us all, you’ll never get anywhere! Still, I appreciate the respect. Some, shall we say, don’t really get it.”

“So… Christianity then?”

The Saint nodded, adding, “For you, yes. For others? Who knows. It’s not our place to say. But you were a Christian, more or less at least. So you have come here. As a Christian, I assume you know what comes next?”

“You… are the keeper of the Gate of Heaven.”

“That’s right. I decide if you come in, or… don’t. But the final arbiter is our Lord of course. On the last day only he will judge. But know this. I am fallible. I may be a Saint, but I am still just a man. Do not take my decision as your ultimate fate. Understand?”

The man that Saint Peter called X nodded.

“Good,” Saint Peter continued. “Now, shall we proceed?”

Suddenly a book appeared in his hands. Not a huge book, but it’s edges were gilded in shining silver and on it’s cover, in a language he didn’t recognize yet understood perfectly, were the words ‘The Book of Life’.

Saint Peter’s eyes looked deeply into his own, their look expressing both sorrow and sympathy. “It’s not an easy job,” he said. “I wish sometimes I’d never accepted it.” Then he sighed and opened the book.

X looked on, trying to peer around the edge while the Saint scanned the pages, but he turned the book away and gave the man an amused look. “No, no no! No peeking! Now let’s see…  No other Gods before me… Hmm… What’s this about Buddhism?”

“Oh, just a little investigation. Curious, you know…” he said sincerely. He wasn’t worried about that one.

“Yes, I suppose so. Not a very religious man though. Not devout.”

The man had to agree, shaking his head sadly.

“Well, that’s okay. Not preferred, mind you, but we can’t all be Saints now, can we?”

“Obviously not!”

“Alright, let’s move along… You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything. You were an artist of sorts I see…”

“Of… sorts I guess…”

“Oh, let’s see some of your work… Oh my god! You drew that!?!”

The man hung his head in shame. “I don’t know which one you’re looking at, but I’m sure I did.”

“Holy cow man! And I don’t say that lightly! How could she even…”

The man hung his head lower. “I…”

Saint Peter scowled. “That is not something our Lord would approve of! But it doesn’t constitute an idol either. Wait… what’s this? What’s a ‘waifu’?”

“It’s kind of like an imaginary wife.”

“That’s no wife. That’s not even human.”

“It was a phase,” the man protested weakly.

“Well, again it’s not something we approve of, but whatever you did with her in your imagination, that isn’t really worshipping as we understand it here. We’ll let it slide…”

“Thank you Mr… Peter?”

The eyes scowled at him from over the book again, but turned a page and began reading again.

“You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean…”

“Oh, Heaven’s no! If we refused everyone who said that, we’d be empty of anyone but Saints – and probably more than a few of us too! No, you’re good here. Let’s move on.”

In his heart, X was beginning to worry. He knew where this was leading. But, he supposed, he probably had no choice but to endure it anyway.

“Remember the Sabbath… not too bad… Honor your father and mother. Ooh! Nice score here! That’s a plus!”

“Thank you.”

“No murder, check. No adultery. Wow! Considering your ‘artwork’ I’m a little surprised by that! Good job!”

The man nodded, beginning to be hopeful.

“Though shalt not steal… Mmmm. Fail. But it wasn’t too much or too often. I’ll overlook it, in deference to your adultery score. Pretty rare that actually.”

“False testimony… good job! Pretty honest, all things considered. And finally…. Thou Shalt Not Covet Your Neighbor’s House, Wife or Property…”

He watched Saint Peter’s eyes closely as they scanned the page. Suddenly though, the Saint gasped. He flipped back to a previous page, then went back. His eyes grew wide.

The Saint looked at him, but this time the eyes weren’t so gentle. He closed the book and it disappeared.

The man was baffled. “What? What? My neighbor lived in a trailer and his wife was ugly! I never…”

Saint Peter drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled finally before speaking. “You don’t really understand this commandment, X. I’ll try to put this as delicately as I can. Do you know the meaning of the word ‘covet’? Well let me explain it to you. It means to Desire. To Crave. To Long for. Sir, you have been Coveting since you reached adulthood.”

“But not my…” he began, but the Saint interrupted him.

“Your neighbor, Sir, is anyone you encounter. Images are encounters. I’m sorry X, but I just read the tally of your Covetousness. I do believe you’ve managed to beat the record, barring the mentally ill – which you are not.”

“You mean…”

“Masturbation, Mr. X! Need I be clearer? No sir, you will not pass these gates. Good day to you. I hope you aren’t offended if I don’t shake your hand. Someone will be along shortly to take you to your destination.”

With that, the Saint snapped the book closed, at which it promptly disappeared.

“But…”

“There’s a special place where you’re going for your kind, Mr. X. You’ll fit right in.”

“Masturbation? You were serious ’bout dat?”

The Saint had turned his back to the gate but paused and chuckled a bit, looking over his shoulder. “Good ‘Joe Pesci’, Mr. X. Yes, I’ve seen the movie. Now, please… don’t touch the gate. She’ll be along soon.”