BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

 

Gorgeous she is. Hilda is perfect from her long, straight sandy hair to each toe, each toe nail. In spite of her fame, an even more perfect woman enters the group. She is mentally x-rayed. ‘I’m Helda,’ she announces. Her voice is soft, mellow, sexy. Aqua marine eyes look like sparkling jewels each time she blinks. Muscular arms reach for her, are struck down by a mere glance of her magical eyes. The hungry men disappear. Only their dust remains on the marble floor. The remaining men cower behind each other, back away slowly from Helda.

 

There is silence as sweat rolls down smooth hairless faces. Hilda, too, grows warm. Her clothes stick to her perfect body. There is fear, worry. Is she going to join the dust that was just a moment ago men? Helda is calm, She is dry and alert. Flecks of gold dust settle down through the warm air, cover her voluptuous breasts. How tempting they are! A groups of men, young boys, make plans to divert her attention, so the elders have a go at her. They foolheartedly believe they can outsmart Helda. They do not and are sent to fuel the furnaces and are not seen again.

 

Hilda bides her time. Her sweet goodness is a charade she plays. Meaness hides between her manicured toes. Helda is her target. The two sit side by side as dinner is brought steaming hot to the table. An overly heavy porker, still breathing, makes strident, ear piercing sounds as knives go into its guts and blood spurts out on Helda. She shows not a sign of unease as she licks her arms and purifies herself.

 

A stranger, a very old man with a long white beard, holding a carved wooden cane, walks in circles around the diners. He is not invited to sit with them. For that he is grateful as he has a job to do and sitting, chatting, would keep him from his task. From under his ragged shirt he pulls a scroll, unfurls it, and chants five names. No one comes forward. He calls the names again and two men in white clothes stand, line up behind him. The other three hold back until the stranger bangs his heavy cane more loudly, more assuredly, on the floor. They turn as one and wave goodbye to Hilda, blow kisses to Helda and vanish into thin a
air.

 

There are no pearly gates. There are no gates at all. The five men, led by one named Josiah, walk endlessly up and around a curved road. The pass no others but many, many pass them by as the go down and around the same curved road. ‘Josiah,’ says one. ‘We have waited a long time and  were soon to partake of Hilda’s beauty, and if not Hilda’s, the new beautiful  Helda’s. We know not why we are being punished.’

 

Josiah raises his cane and explains they have been punished enough and were to shovel coal for all eternity after their last dinner. ‘You five men, Rabbis all, have been re-judged. You will reside with the angels when next the moon turns blue. That may be a very long time. Until then, you will take care of those who come to us each day. Judge them carefully.

 

The fires of hell may still devour you.’