Excerpts from what I've been working on lately (the main reason why I haven't been blogging). I suppose if any of this gets plagiarized, I can take it as a backhanded compliment:
"'. . . At the voice of the archangel, and the trumpet of God . . .'
They had to lean close to hear him. Aunt Jo swore she felt the soul pass through the skin of his fingers as he said it. But all Lucy saw and heard was a slow wind of breath and an old man's body growing somehow thinner before her eyes.
That was the end of Glenville for Lucy Chesterton-Shaw.
'Some things is meant,' said Aunt Martha as she and her grand-niece pulled out of the driveway a week later, Lucy's bedroom boxed and piled in the backseat. 'Some things is meant to be one way. The Lord writes a good paragraph on our world. Don't rewrite it. You're uncle would want you to remember that. Especially now you're having to live, God forgive us, with your Uncle John. Especially.'
Lucy was only half-listening, watching the oak-nestled pastureland glide by. After a while she was no longer in the car listening to an exposition on Romans 8. She running for the horizon under a bold sunset, arms outstretched, listening for the trumpets of God. She imagined the Rapture, her feet growing wings as she was caught up and carried off. She imagined the suddenly-unmanned Buick spinning across the empty highway. She imagined Glenville, abandoned in a heavenly rush like the body of her grand-uncle, dead seven days."
- From "Things Is Meant," a short story about a NorCal farmer's daughter who has to go live with her homosexual uncle in SoCal.
The following is the last bit of the first act of a play @ the Twelve Disciples(right now going by "The Good Dozen", set in the modern day. At the moment, it's a very wierd cross between Godspell, The Godfather, and Friends. Yeah, I don't know what to do with me either. At this point in the "action," Josh (Jesus) is sitting down with his followers after breaking up more than one argument and miraculously multiplying some pizzas so that they can all eat:
Thank you, Father, for providing everything we need. Let us always remember with gratitude the reason that we live.
Yeah – friends, football, pizza and beer!
THE GUYS laugh, but JOSH looks at PETER – not unkindly, but serious.
Peter, why are you here?
PETE puts his pizza down and meets JOSH’S gaze.
Because . . . you invited me.
Yes – but why did you take me up on my invitation?
Well – ‘cause . . . ‘cause you’re this city’s only hope.
‘Cause I figure it’s at the point where only God Almighty could fix things – and I believe you are . . . God.
JOSH leans back in his chair, a huge smile on his face.
Well that’s putting it . . . bluntly.
Your faith is as big as your heart, Pete. Don’t lose it, when you’re beat down and everything that’s good in the world fades away. I won’t always be here to put pizza on the table.
THE GUYS pull forward in their seats a little bit, listening intently.
Are you going away, Doc?
Yeah. I’m leaving soon.
I will finish the job my Father sent me here to do – and then I’ll go home to him.
You mean – home to Nazareth? Why go back there?
No, not Nazareth, Mer. The Endless Mountains are a flimsy shadow compared with my Home. My work is done in Nazareth, and it’s nearly done here in Pittsburgh.
On to New York next?
For you, perhaps, if my Father wills. But I will never see the Endless Mountains again, and my days in Pittsburgh are numbered – so don’t get comfortable. Don’t think I’m here to feed and teach and comfort only . . . Violence will break into your lives because of me. You will be arrested. You will lose what reputations you have left. You will lose jobs. Homes. Savings. Some will be gunned down in the street. Your families will disown you and your friends will pretend they don’t know you. The government will call you terrorists, the Mob will call you troublemakers, and the underground will call you sell-outs. You will Love everyone, and make no one happy. Can you face that?
I think I could – with you.
You are good and brave, Jack. Don’t be afraid – it is when you are alone that I am nearest to you.
And what about us?
You guys? You will all die for each other.
He picks up a piece of pizza with a knowing grin.
If you don’t all kill each other first.
ACT I CURTAIN.
If you're still around . . . thanks for reading. Hopefully the time I'm spending on these will be worth something to somebody someday. I'd welcome any comments you might have.