Flowers in a Dumpster by Mark Allan Gunnells

Author:Mark Allan Gunnells
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing
Published: 2015-12-04T00:00:00+00:00

WALKING TALKING JESUS

I was kneeling at the altar of the old church when a voice said, “Excuse me.”

This startled me, because I’d been sure I was alone in the sanctuary. I quickly scanned the pews for a new arrival, perhaps someone else waiting to say a prayer, but the place was still empty.

“I’m up here.”

The voice was no less startling the second time around, although I did pinpoint its location. I raised my head and blinked rapidly, sure I was seeing things. The large wooden Jesus hanging on the cross at the back of the pulpit stared down at me with his head cocked. His lips creaked up into a slight smile. “Could I trouble you for some help?”

At first I couldn’t speak. Ironic, I thought. Here was a thing that shouldn’t be able to speak, speaking, whereas I am supposed to speak and couldn’t. The Jesus waited with a patient expression on his splintery face.

When I finally regained my voice, I said, “Are you talking to me?” Perhaps not the most intelligent question in the world, but my wits seemed to have fled.

The Jesus turned his head one way and then the other, making a show of looking around the sanctuary. “I don’t see anyone else here.”

I stammered a bit, cleared my throat, swallowed as if I had a large wad of bread stuck in my throat, and said, “What kind of help do you need?”

“I was hoping you could help me down from here.”

“Off . . . you mean off the cross?”

“Well, yes. You see, I’ve been up here for centuries and it is more than a bit uncomfortable.”

“But, um, you can’t get down.”

“I could if you would offer me a little assistance.”

“But . . . you’re Jesus.”

“Yes, I know.”

“We need you on the cross. It’s what saves us from ourselves.”

“I know, and I don’t want to be down forever. I just need to stretch my legs a bit, work out some of the stiffness.”

“I guess that would be okay.”

“Sure it will. You can trust me, after all. Help me down, let me get a taste of the world, and I’ll hop right back up here in a week’s time. Two, tops.”

I pondered this for a moment. It didn’t seem an entirely unreasonable request. I knew how bad my neck hurt if I slept funny, so I could only imagine the discomfort of being in his position for as long as he’d been. Besides, it would only be for a little while. He’d promised, and surely Jesus wouldn’t lie to me.

So I stood up, went over to the corner where I knew there was a supply closet. I located the ladder and returned to carefully help Jesus down from the cross, getting a few splinters in my fingers for my trouble. He was unsteady on his feet and I let him lean against me.

“Thank you, child,” he said. “What is your name?”

“Paul.”

“Oh, I used to know a Paul. I hate to do this, you’ve been so kind already, but I have yet one more favor to ask.

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