Abstract, Art, Dreams, Humor, philosophy, photography, Photoshop, Short Story

Choice

Churck front in a surreal setting.It was a sweet feminine voice that insisted I make a choice, either walk through the church doors or burn in the depths of hell.

I thought, “Only two choices? Of the world’s ‘Great Religions’ my two choices are the plain vanilla denomination or hell.” Isn’t that some sort of rhetorical fallacy – only two choices? I’m sure there must be more.

I asked, “Why the simple white clapboard, non-denominational, nondescript church? What about one of the magnificent Gothic cathedrals? Perhaps I could visit a golden domed synagogue, or try an ancient Moorish mosque. Then again, I kind of liked the colorful Japanese Temples with the spinning prayer cylinders.”

She said, “Choose! Either this church where they are waiting for you or roast right here where demons will spend a thousand eternities devouring your soul.”

I said in my most assertive voice, “I much prefer my own church, ‘The Blessed Mother of the Sabbath Morning Sleep-In.’ By the way, you have a lovely voice”

She said, “Choose!”

I said, “How about we go uptown to the bar where they have 19 different craft brews on tap…I’ll buy. We can have a reasonable conversation and work this out in a more congenial setting.”

She said, “Choose!”

At that point, it occurred to me, “This little white church must have a back door.”

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