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Stepping On the Mat
by Julie Michaelson
08/01/12
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Behold,
I stand
at the
door
and
knock;
if anyone
hears
My Voice
and
opens the
door,
I will
come in....
[Revelation 3:20]
*****************
Time: A few moments before the angel
blows the last trumpet,
and the Lord Jesus shouts.
Place: A downtown
loft.
Characters: Art,
and Delicia, and their
next door neighbor,
Evan.
*****************
Art could smell the
oil that Delicia was
rubbing on his back;
it reminded him of
his aunt's backyard
up in northern Oregon when he was
twelve: full of herbs
and heavily scented
flowers.

Only, Delicia hadn't
been there in his
aunt's backyard
when he was twelve.

Hell, no.

Art suddenly murmured a laugh.

"What are you LAUGHING....at?"
Delicia, who was sitting atop Art's
bare waist, stopped making the small circles
with her small, lotion-tipped
fingers; their nails were short
and polished with a childish frosty pink
that was now chipping off.

Art chuckled again.
"NOTHIN'....."
He put his head back
down on the pillow. He murmured, gruffly.
"Don't STOP...."

Delicia smiled, and
continued the little
circles of frothy lotion on Art's back.
A swatch of her long dark hair fell into
the peach-colored lotion, making it
look like very expensive hair conditioner. Rain
was now beating heavily against their
curtainless loft windows, and the afternoon light in their studio apartment had suddenly become shadowy, and initmate. On the table, beside the kingsize sofa bed, was
a little green ceramic budda that was holding several sticks
of cinnimon-scented burning incense. In
the background was playing an old CD:
Spanish guitar music.

(KNOCK!
KNOCK!)

"Ah.....SH.....T."
Art squinted up from
the pillow, irritably.
"Who's......THAT...."

(KNOCK!
KNOCK!)

Art called out; his
mouth on the pillow.
"Go...........AWAY!"

A muffled, young male voice came from
behind the heavy
wooden elevator door.
"HEY......ART!
It's......ME!"

Art grumbled into
his pillow; it smelled
of herbal lotion, too.
"Oh......sh.......T!
I can't STAND.... that......guy!"

Delicia just laughed,
and reached over
to touch a dollop of
lotion on Art's nose.
"Oh....ART! He's
not THAT....bad!"

Art could feel scratchiness of her
lace bra against his
neck. It smelled a little sweaty.
"I can't STAND.......
him! WHY doesn't
he just leave me....
ALONE? For God's....
SAKES.......!"

Delicia leaned forward again, and
whispered in Art's
right ear.
"Shhhhhh. MAYBE...
he won't HEAR....us!"
She giggled, and then
blew into his ear.

They both became
silent: quietly laughing, and giggling.

Silence. The heavy
smell of burning cinnamon, and herbal
massage lotion hung
in the air. The rain
was now coming in torrents against the
slanted paned glass,
of the 6th floor loft.

(KNOCK!
KNOCK!)
"Hey......ART!
It's........ME....
EVAN!"

Art cursed, again.
Then he lifted his
head, and shouted
toward the heavy
wooden door.
"WHAT DO YOU
WANT? GO AWAY!
CAN'T YOU SEE I'M......BUSY?"

The muffled voice
came from behind the
closed door again.
"This is IMPORTANT,
Art! It's about your
SOUL!"

Art burst out laughing; Delicia's
lotion-tipped hair
was lying across his
face like nose-tickling
ostrich feathers.
"JUST SLIP THE
BIBLE UNDER THE
DOOR.....EVAN! WE'LL LOOK AT IT...
LATER.......OKAY?"

Silence from behind
the door.

Delicia whispered;
her breath smelled
of peppermint.
"When is he going
back.....HOME? Isn't
he just LEASING...here,
for the SUMMER?"

Art could feel her jeans against the
sides of his back; they were tight, and
slim. When he spoke again, his voice had
the irritable tone of impatience.
"Yeah.....WHATEVER.
I think he's a MISSIONARY....in
CHINA, or somethin'.
He and Rob are cousins......
while Rob's UPSTATE..........."
Art leaned over, and
switched off the small bedside lamp,
as if that would make
them suddenly invisible.
"I'm ......so SICK 'a
that guy! He's.....a
NUT! They must have weak GENES....
in that FAMILY.......
ROB isn't LIKE that...."

"He's.....concerned
about your SOUL....
Art!" Delicia reached
around to unsnap the
ends of her lacy, lilac
bra. She tossed her
long hair back.
"Maybe......MINE,
too.....!"

Art groaned.
"YOUR.... soul is BEAUTIFUL......!"

Silence.

The muffled voice
comes from behind
the door, again.
"ART........?
I'M PUTTING
THE BIBLE UNDER
the.........DOORMAT!
OKAY.......?"

Silence.

"Yeah.
SURE......EVAN!
THANKS!"

(Giggle.)
*****************
'Send
Lazarus
to dip
the end
of his finger
in water
and
cool
my tongue;
for I
am in
anguish
in
this flame.'
[Luke 16:24]

Copyright 2012.



If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! TRUST JESUS NOW

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