Inserting the diskette into the computer, he ran it through the virus scan. Still no registration of any problem. He sighed. He ran it through diskscan and a couple of other "check and clean" type of programs before he removed the diskette from the computer. The diskette still glowed a clear, unheavenly rose pink. He frowned at it, pursing his lips in disapproval. He tipped it to catch the light better and re-read the label: Mary, Queen of Heaven. He sighed unhappily, unconsciously placing his hand over his heart.
Why had she done it? Why was she still doing it? Women! Of course the damned souls were suffering in Hell! They were supposed to suffer in Hell! That was the whole point of Hell—otherwise, why bother? She wasn't supposed to go there and try to comfort them. She wasn't supposed to tell them they could still be redeemed, that they could be free of both Heaven and Hell. Why did she have to be so infernally sentimental about them? She'd been there nearly two millennia now, almost ever since she had come back from Earth. Her proper place was here in Heaven. They needed her here; it was her duty to be here.
He sighed again, trying not to think the next thought of his morning litany: he missed her so.
Absently, he slipped the diskette in his pocket and went to get breakfast. He never, ever let himself wonder if he, too, could be free of both Heaven and Hell.
Copyright © 1995 by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.
St. Peter, a study for The Last Supper, by Leonardo da Vinci
Mater Dolorosa by El Greco