Their Own Personal Jesus

  a short story by Harper the Fox, author of Wandering Lust

Out in the desert, the people stood. Huddled together, they waited eagerly, staring up at the man before them. He stood on a large rock, silhouetted by the setting sun behind him. 

A small child tugs at her mother’s long skirt. “I wanna go home.”

“Hush.”

“What are we even doing here?”

“I said HUSH.” 

The throng gazed up towards their own personal Jesus. Standing in the sagebrush and dusty rocks of a golden desert, his bright blonde hair shimmering in the sun. He had declared himself to them, and (always eager for a miracle) they were grateful he had come.

He had a deep timbre to his voice, which he projected easily into the evening. He quoted passages from the word of the lord. He spoke eloquently about their little town, and his gratitude for each of them. The each-of-thems which he addressed en masse smiled, humbled by his attention.

He looked into the faces of his onlookers before announcing that it was his time to ascend. A broad smile spilled across his face. It was time for this Jesus to return to the sweet, giving bosom of the lord their God. 

Mother gripped little child’s hand, tight. 

A different sort of silence passed over the crowd as he turned to face the cliffside behind him. The evening spilled through the sky, the darkening cloud almost like the fingers of doubt, creeping into their minds. But definitely not doubt. No, definitely not. They all believed. They all knew they had found their miracle. 

With a final smile, the blonde-haired shining Jesus outstretched his arms, and took a confident step off of his rock, into the open air. 

Freeze upon this moment– he hangs in the air like a hovering bird. No one breathes. 

Then, like a bird of prey, he falls. 

After a moment of silence, his harsh scream calls up through the canyon. He has realized he is not going up. 

Bones crunch on rock. Another scream. Bones crunch on rock again. Silence. 

The people in the crowd look at each other. Dumbfounded. But definitely not doubtful. Odds are his soul left his body just before the fall.

-by Harper the Fox

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