A Little Slice of Heaven

Artwork by Ruby Grant

God died. 

He had needed a miracle. He demanded medicine, so we prayed and chanted and placed leeches on his stomach. He screamed for a hospital, but none of us understood the word. He groaned, his last breath rumbling against his rib cage. Outside, past the trees, I glimpsed an echo that had been left behind by twin lights. In the morning, we buried God next to Lucy.  

***

I planted rosemary over Lucy’s grave, which sat next to the strawberry patch. God said she was not worthy, that the secrets she had kept inside her soul had corrupted her. We buried her and then sat in prayer for hours. I didn’t understand. Lucy had been the best of us, the brightest star. I heard the noise again, a rumble that shook my bones. I left the rosemary bush half-sunk into the ground and walked into the beginnings of the bush. The rumble grew louder; in my mind, two lights hovered above. Four wheels of black rubber rolled across barren ground. The bell rang and I froze mid step, caught in a sin. 

***

Lucy was ill. I didn’t know what to do. My family prayed over her feverish body. Every evening, God chanted and wailed over her body, covering her stomach in leeches.  

'They’re sucking the sins out of her core,’ he said. She grew weaker. I clasped my hands together and looked up at the ceiling fan.  

***

I picked the strawberries at the edge of our garden, where the wildness and our tiny slice of heaven met. My bare feet sank slightly into the mulch. An unusual sound travelled through the trees; the alien noise became more and more pronounced. The bell rang; it was time to confess. Confess our sins, our worries, our dark thoughts. I spoke about the strange sound; God said it was the sound of a metal beast made by the Devil, created to lure us into danger. I vowed never to hear it again. 

***

I smiled. They smiled. Around and around we went, following the circle of the dark oak table. In the middle of this circle of love, God chanted, rocking in his chair, looking up at the ceiling fan. I cried. They cried. Around and around we went. God chanted, screaming across the table, stopping short in the middle of a word. The table fell silent; tears dried on our cheeks. We ate dinner.