The Brothel Creeper: Stories of Sexual and Spiritual Tension Read Online Free PDF

buckled, but soon regained its shape. It made no organic sound; no lungs breathed, no stomach rumbled. Its hooves clicked hollowly on the anaemic terrain like the keys of a broken organ. When it lurched, Tennyson clung desperately to the fat of Herod’s waist, which was slippery and cold and smelled of simple sweat. But the perfume on his robes was complex, a combination of scents less sensible than roses, blood and dung.
    “Truth is our destination!” cried Herod. He dug his heels into the ribs of his mount to urge it on.
    And so it increased its pace until they had achieved a formidable velocity. Now the landscape altered gradually. They passed the irregular bumps, which moved slowly and silently, altering height and outline. Then came a few unremarkable towers. The roofs of modest houses were next. Herod explained that these lands lay on the edges of Paradise. He spoke of Heaven as having many attributes. One of them was a warped sort of familiarity, which itself is the genesis of contempt. Then he played with this word. Genesis. He held it on the edge of his blubbery lower lip and vibrated it with his upper. He repeated it over and over until Tennyson tearfully begged him to cease.
    Herod giggled. “Don’t you read the Bible?”
    “I know a little about it.”
    “Not good enough! I can recite many different versions in numerous languages. Word perfect. That’s because I am employed by God. And now so are you! Aren’t you willing to learn more? What does the Bible actually say about Heaven? Can you guess?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “Well it says a lot of things, some of them contradictory. The word for Heaven is often used as a general term for anything that exists above the land of your world. But it is also employed to mean the solid dome of the sky itself. There are windows set in this vault that open to let the rain fall, for there is an ocean beyond the sky. Heaven is an inverted bowl that rests on the pillars of the horizon. These pillars can be shaken. The stars are tiny lamps, perhaps suspended on strings. This dome is incredibly strong, but one day will be smashed. Heaven is also the region above the sky where God has built storehouses for snow, hail and wind. It’s all there in the books of Genesis, Job, Isaiah, Matthew and the Psalms. Check for yourself. But that is geography rather than mysticism.”
    “I assume Heaven is much more?”
    “Yes, it is a spiritual dimension too. The abode of angels and the best and most obedient human beings. That’s the idea. But in fact there is no Hell and everybody ends up in Heaven when they die. Yet it is the sovereign state of God. His home. It is located higher than anything else and all Towers of Babel, even those powered by oxygen and hydrogen in liquid form and guided by computers, are futile in scope, energy and direction. It is a sin of outrageous pride to attempt to reach Heaven without an invitation. But you are safe; you have been given a job. We are heading towards the capital city now, but you won’t see God. It isn’t permitted. He spends his time sitting on an invisible throne surrounded by members of his court. Angels come in different castes, but they aren’t proper individuals. They tend to be very dull on their own, like wasps separated from a nest.”
    “Do the dead humans who come here change? Do they become stupefied with grace and sycophancy?”
    “No. They remain ordinary men and women. But all at the same age. Thirty-three. Identical for everybody. Why that particular number of years? Because Jesus was crucified when he was thirty-three. And in Heaven we shall be like him. If you are a century old when you die, your life will be rewound. That’s what the Bible says. So it must be true. I am thirty-three. And now so are you.”
    “I don’t recall reading any of that.”
    Herod yawned. “1 John 3:2.”
    Tennyson let his doubts recede. “Setting the same age for everyone sounds reasonable, but what about those people who die on