An adult speculative Christian post-Armageddon fiction
Dilemma of Dreams
Chapter Eleven: Complete
I was Made for the Wild West
The cowboy outfit included guns. I could not believe the little pistols were real, but Peralte told me that they were. I wanted to fire them out the window of our room, but he stressed for us to get dressed and walk out where we would not disturb the locals too much. I put on each piece of my outfit after almost kissing it with joy. It was hard staying still in front of the mirror to look at myself, and even harder not draw my guns and letting loose a few rounds.
I did kiss the horses. They were magnificent, especially the white mount Peralte stated to be mine. Blue tassels dangled from the bridle and reins. The leather around the seat of the saddle on my horse had been worked to display jackalopes with crosses in their antlers. I wanted to ride, and Peralte helped me climb up into the saddle. I had ridden animals, but only dreamed of riding a real western horse. Peralte acted as if he was to guide me, but I put what little skills that I had to the test. Whether my time on the back of plow horses actually gave me experience, or the saddle with the stirrups provided enough security to keep my light form on the powerful beast, I was soon riding about with my laughter ringing through the mountains.
It actually hurt to fire the pistols. The four shots of each were enough for me. Peralte did not reload them, but told me to go around simply holding them. I promised him that I would, but that I also would want to fire them again. He gave me a box of bullets and told me to do so whenever I had a moment and a place to shoot away from anyone else.
I believe that I chattered all through breakfast. I spoke of the horses, how they were dressed, riding my horse, everything about the animals. I talked about the guns, all the fine detail in their metal, how they felt in my hands, and the sensations when I pulled the triggers. Both Peralte and Dimerkess attempted to correct some of my statements, but their specifics about the topics did not staunch the flow of words that I had about how much I was excited about what had occurred in my life.
I did meet Jeraketh. I knew the man, but what surprised me was that I felt that I was looking at the old me. He had the large frame and hefty build of my old body. I remembered getting along with Jeraketh well enough. Both Dimerkess and Peralte only spoke of me as being Vetacha, but I confronted Jeraketh with no fear of letting him know that I once was Mesapher. He simply nodded at the introduction, and said that he would help me if I needed it.
The journey did not get started soon enough for me. While the others calmly rode along, I had my horse racing around trees, rushing through straight corridors, and generally moving as fast as possible to wherever my mind could decide to go. Finally tiring, I joined the group, and after I finished laughing I heard Dimerkess ask a question.
“Jeraketh, where did you get her horse?”
“Jesus gave it to me.”
“Yep. Big Brother showed up with this horse all done up like you see it. Said that it was for Vetacha. I want to say it is doomed, but Jesus don’t deal with the doomed and its aura is not that of the doomed.”
Dimerkess turned to look at me and my mount, then turned back to Jeraketh to say, “It’s not tired, so it is not a normal horse.”
Peralte said, “If it is from Jesus, then it’s angelic. He can do with them like we do with the doomed. Don’t exactly know the rules for that, but I know that is how it works.”
I listened as the elders spoke of the rules. It seemed that God wanted the interaction between those of his creation. We had access to the doomed, because there were minor grueling details to our lives that were best for only those whose lot it was to suffer. The angelic hosts were there for our interaction as well, but they had their own duties set by God. They thus were not ours to claim, although they could be called upon. My elders spoke of what they saw and the rules as they understood them with the conclusion that my horse had to be an angel appointed by my Father to be my mount.
No one had to tell me, but from the conversation I understood that I could test the supposition by talking to my horse. I saw it move its head in reply to my basic question. I also remembered it easily understanding what I was giving as commands. When I asked it if it was tired, it shook its head, so I gave the signal for it to race off again.
The only time that the animal trotted was when I rejoined the others for moments of conversation. I had the horse jump streams, chase deer, any reason that I had for the animal to keep moving I gave the command and it obeyed. I never fell, but some maneuvers it took me a number of tries before I got them right. The animal never complained, but was always willing to begin galloping again.
At lunch I fired my pistols. The shock from the bullets again bothered my hand, but I fired the shots determined to become used to the sensation. Looking at Peralte as if expecting to hear him reprimand me, I loaded my weapons before putting them back in my holsters.
I rode my horse for the rest of the day. We were not following a road, so I had no feeling of limitation as to where I had the horse move. To check directions I had the horse circle trees until I could get a sight of the others. Seeing them still mounted, I would command my mount to gallop off again. Only with the coming of darkness and the sight of a campfire did I finally allow my animal to rest.
I dismounted then turned to see a magnificent sight. There was a blazing fire with the smell of beans cooking in a pot. I heard the sounds of the animals. Suddenly, the realization that I was dressed as a cowgirl, had been riding as a cowgirl, had real guns like a cowgirl, and would sleep under the stars as a cowgirl overwhelmed me.
A voice right next to me said, “Oh, no, you don’t, Vetacha. No tears.”
I turned to see a kind bearded face. He was dressed in a cowboy outfit, but I recognized him. I kissed the man, looked to my horse, the campfire, then kissed him again. I told Jesus thanks for the horse, and everything, and then he kissed me.
He told me that the horse was indeed a member of the Heavenly host, and that its name was Saroniel. Jesus said that it was mine until I sent it away. He then showed me how to unsaddle it along with how to treat the tack. In the saddlebag were brushes for tending to the anima. While Jesus went to meet the others, I gave Saroniel a good long brushing, then released it to do whatever it desired.
Jesus taught me to whistle with my fingers. He then said that if Saroniel did not come to my call, to whistle. Jesus then told me if it did not come at that time, to go see him.
As the two of us moved to the campfire, Dimerkess said, “Jesus, it was a wonderful thing giving that horse to Vetacha. Any other animal, I believe even one doomed, would be dead somewhere back along the way.”
Jesus replied, “Father and I thought the same thing. What are we eating?”
“What else for our western motif? Steak, beans, and buttered bread. Had a place set for you yesterday.”
“I thought that chair was for Elijah.”
“Only on Passover.”
I was not the best at reading the Bible, and not at all familiar with Jewish rites, so I did not get all references. I however smiled broadly when I was reminded that those of us gaining salvation were supposed to run and not be weary. As my mount was of the Heavenly host, it fell into that category. I knew that I did tire, but not as the other girls in the convent. They would be huffing and puffing, but I would simply have something else catch my interest, or obediently fall in line as directed by an elder. Realizing that my endurance was another reward of salvation, I actually considered finally sitting down and reading God’s words for other promises that I could claim.
After most were speaking of being full, Jesus said, “All of you are running into trouble. I am not saying that you cannot deal with it, but I am reminding you that you aren’t,” he winked at me, “under the gun. If you need help, ask.”
Dimerkess replied, “Just tell me, Jesus, that we have not waited too long.”
Jeraketh added, “And this isn’t the work of Satan.”
Jesus answered, “It cannot be the work of Satan, as his days are over. This is just an unforeseen fault in the system. Father never stressed his system in the manner that some of you do. That is why He does not want to deal with it. Technically, it is your problem, and He would like to see if you can come up with an answer for it.”
Peralte asked, “Does it have to deal with my own discussions with you?”
“Yes, in a way. Father created a functional reality, but most of you are not doing that. You, Peralte, don’t want earthquakes disturbing your mountains. You are right now attempting to figure out how to limit fires in your forest. You want an eternal playground, and that is not what our Father set up as his fundamental system. This is one of many little faults that we will probably have to face as we work at setting up this eternal system.”
Dimerkess asked, “What about my argument that we use another working framework?”
Jesus said, “I would question the term, ‘working.’ There are some other frameworks that are showing some reliability, but at present they are rather labor intensive. There are a couple that Father and I feel serve the common man better, as they actually test the souls, but most of you would consider those systems harsh, just as I hear a number of complaints about your lives being harsh. I am however going to say that all of you should well be able to testify that the payoff is substantial.”
Peralte said, “That is my argument however. We have achieved salvation. I thus feel that I should not have deal with harsh conditions.”
“But those commoners placed in your reality, to make it feel like a reality, need some trials. My basic belief is that you should be able to have commoners perform the services that the doomed fill. Yes, I know the reasons why you don’t, and presently I have to admit that they are very good reasons. Still, I am considering ways of placing the burdens you set upon the doomed to fall upon the commoners. You will probably be one of my test subjects, Peralte, as I like talking with you, but your home is what I consider highly unholy.”
“You have to see with your eyes, Jesus, and not with your heart.”
Everyone laughed, and the men laughed again when Jesus returned, “You mean see with my dick. I lived my life as a man, Peralte. I understand, but I want you to know that I am seeking options that would be satisfactory to both you and me.”
When the chuckles calmed down, Dimerkess said, “Jesus, seeing Vetacha causes me to worry about Leotion. Do we need to worry about Leotion?”
“Honestly, if what happened to Mesapher would happen to Leotion, I would hope things would fail. As much as it disgusted me to have one of my brethren piping in a little female voice chants to Tersepsus, the years did the soul good.” Jesus hugged me, then said, “I welcome Vetacha as one of my sisters. I know that you have probably been told, but Peralte knew where you were and witnessed your pact with Tersepsus. Tersepsus understood the situation that he was placing himself in, but felt it best for you. He was not reprimanded, and has been thanked by me for doing such a good job watching over you. Peralte has been thanked as well. Dimerkess spent the years very worried about you, and a number of others did so as well. You were not alone, Vetacha, you were never alone.”
“I never felt alone,” I replied. “And ever since seeing Peralte, I knew that I was among friends. If I can help Leotion, I will. If not, I will be a witness to where he descends so that I can assure that he is taken care of.”
Jesus said, “That is what I want to hear. I want all of my brothers and sisters to watch out after each other. Now, with that said, I bid all of you a good night.”
Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.
Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market. "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.