In the Eye of the Beholder

A story that is native to Jewish tradition. Brought to writing by me. Took some liberties but in the end the story is folk tale.

                                                                         Disclaimer: Based on a known folktale of Jewish origins.

Rarely ever does a truly righteous man come in the gates of Heaven. So uncommon it became that God made it a priority to treat such unique people with extreme care. While the basics remained the same, it was not all black and white.

The good go to Heaven.

The bad go to Hell.

Yet on the day a particularly humble, good and otherwise unflawed man arrived at the kingdom of god, he decided to do things a bit differently. When the man took his first steps, his simple wooden sandals sinking in the soft cushion of the clouds, he was greeted by no other then Moses in the flesh.

''Greetings to you my good friend, and be you welcome at the valley of souls. You have been so kind, so benevolent in life, that you will be given choice in death.''

Awestruck and surprised, as humble men so often were when faced with such flattery, he turned to Moses and lowered himself to his knees. He cupped both of his hands, which were wrinkled with old age and his knees almost gave in as he bent them to Moses.

''Raise, my friend, for in here we are equal.''

And when he rose, his skin was smooth, the wrinkles gone. His knees felt strong and fresh and his jaws tight, his eyes sharp and his weight light. He was rejuvenated, young and spry.

And so the pair travelled across the fleet of clouds, passing from one another with gentle leaps, it was not until they arrived at a rather peculiar door when Moses finally lifted his hand and called for them to stop.

Above the door sat a clock. It was made of silver, with golden trims at the seams, his dials were made of the darkest ebony and the background on which the silver numbers were etched was the grayest of grays.

The clock only had three digits, one, two and three. For it was no clock at all, but an elevator of a sort. The two strode inside as Moses turned to the man. ''We will now visit both possibilities. And in the end, you may pick.''

The man felt his cheeks heat up, him? Pick? What blasphemy was this? Was he honestly given such a powerful mandate..? Was he to be put on the same level as he who judged all..?

And so the elevator stopped. And the 'Clock' pointed at the silver digit, etched in the form of '1'.

As the chrome door split open, a brush of light dashed between the crevices, revealing to them a most glorious sight. An infinite hall, with walls that were as white as the foam in the waves, and long tables made of oak wood, crafted with the most skilled hands. Upon each table were set in perfect alignment a host of plates. All made of shimmering and dazzling gold. Each plate would have a different dish, and no plate was like another.

The flesh of all beasts, roasted, cooked, baked, seared, spiced and chopped. Every possible form one could imagine, from the largest of steaks to the most delicate of birds. Roasts of cows and pigs and lambs, sprinkled with the best of spices. Some plates were home to the most magnificent of fruits, colorful and juicy, brimming with taste and allure. There were plump cherries and strawberries and large watermelons that were sliced at the middle to reveal their healthy insides.

Grapes cuddled together and vegetables were brought as one in all kind of salads. Creams and sweets of all kind formed a marvelous rainbow. A plethora of chocolates dotted some plates, dark and milky and white and sprinkled and what not.

Such a wondrous feast, the man thought.

The walls that were as white as cotton burst open to reveal many doors. And the doors were as infinite as the table, with many men coming from all sides. A horde of souls that belonged to the deceased stormed the table. But there was something amiss; none of them had elbows nor knees. Without joints they were incapable of using their limbs properly. And so they ran atop one another, slamming into one another. They pushed and they shoved and they clawed and they pulled. The plates all fell to the floor in the mad scramble for the meal. And as each plate landed on the floor, it changed and no longer was what it was.

Flesh turned rotten, gone was the musky and inviting brown of roasted meat. It turned into a dark and vile shade, accommodated by a heinous stench. The creams turned sour and the sweets turned as hard as rock. The fruits were infested in maggots and turned sick with blight.

And so the souls without elbows and knees crawled on the ground, eating the rotten and corrupted food. What other choice did they have..? They vomited on the floor, hurling their barely digested meal onto their kin and sometimes themselves.

The men watched, plight in his eyes. And as quickly as they came, so they left.

The pair entered the elevator once more, and the ebony hand pointed at the silver '2', uncomfortable and distraught the man remained silent. They arrived at the other floor, this time; it was once more a long and infinite hall. With walls as white as pearls and tables made of the finest oak. There were plates of solid gold, crafted to perfection. Rows of cheeses of all kind, yellow blue and white, served in wheels, paste and slices.

Massive loafs of bread that was baked flawlessly, cakes of all sorts and bloated pastries filled with goodness. There was meat in abundance, ribs that were made on a grill, bleeding onto the plates with their thick gravy.

And so the walls erupted open, and a hazardous amount of souls spilt into the vicinity. They too, lacked knees and joints. No elbows with which they could bend their limbs, and no knees with which they could lower their bodies. But then the most bewildering thing took place. A man reached his stiff arm and took hold of a juicy strawberry. He pushed it into a plate with whipped cream and dragged it across, collecting as much as he could. He then turned to his fellow, setting the creamed fruit in his mouth. And the man ate his fill, with his fellow delivering food to him.

And then they switched, with the one that was previously fed taking a large chop of ham. He dipped it in thick honey and set it before the other's mouth, allowing him to bite and chew and feed. And so they all ate, without a single drop of food touching the floor.

And once they each had their fill, they returned to whence they came. The pair returned to the elevator and Moses turned to the man. His arms crossed and a smile etched upon his lips. ''So then, have you decided..?''

The man remained mute for a few seconds, his eyes wise and his heart heavy. ''..Yes. I will go to the first floor.''

Baffled and shocked Moses turned his gaze away, a simple inquisition in his mouth. ''..Why?''

The man paused for a moment, a smile playing on his features.

''I believe that the first floor needs me a tad bit more.''

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This parable is very fitting for today's world. When it seems many are shouting about the virtues of going it alone, being independent, not embracing the mixing of cultures, here we see a graphic description of the rot that happens in a world where it's every person for him/herself. Also, it's surprising that the newly-dead person makes the choice he does, but it's also understandable, since this person is being rewarded for his selflessness & helpfulness.

Aside from the storytelling itself, which is well done, smooth & clear . . . your story is told with some of the best descriptions I've seen in a long time . . . such as the paragraph starting with: "And when he rose, his skin was smooth, the wrinkles gone." (so vividly detailed) . . . and especially the descriptions of the food, which include so many sumptuous variations, my stomach started to growl *smile*

I think the business about the clock-like elevator dial is overly detailed, tho, & envisioning that to such a level of distinctness really doesn't further the story any. Besides, it's confusing becuz the dial has 3 positions, but there are only 2 choices/stops on the elevator.

[LastMonth]

Thank you very much for the review Barley.
I think I agree.
No, I really do agree. Re-reading it showed me exactly what you mean.
It does not serve to further the plot, nor is it required in that particular moment.
I'll have a go at it later,

Thank you for making me better. :)

[Kira S]

I know this is an old one but oh my god I saw that it was based on a Jewish folktale and HAD to read. I love the imagery, the depictions of the souls of the dead, the way that both rooms are the same and the only difference is how the people inside them treat each other. It's so good.

[Woody]

when going through your writes, I skipped this one and forgot about it. glad I checked again.
you tell a good story LM. your narration is very good and yoour descriptions are excellent.
I might have spotted tiny slip ups. nothing major.
for me, this tells of the goodness of some people (very rare these days, indeed) who would forsake their own pleasure to help the needy. I am always touched by genuine good actions.
I saw your comment on ZJC's review and I'm a little lost here. you tell him it's heaven and hell! first floor is hell? and he chooses to live in hell in order to help those wretched people? is that what you meant?

[LastMonth]

First of all thank you for the review.
What I was trying to say, and I might have to clarify it in the story,

Is that there is no heaven or hell.
The two floors are identical in cirucmstances, features and appearence.
The only difference was the people inhabitating it.

That could be said for our world too. It is the people who make one place better, and one place harsher. Canada isn't a great country because of the land, it is not the stone that is kind .It is not the roads that are polite, and it is not the lakes who are compassionate. It is the people.

I am happy that you liked the story! Thank you for the review, hope I clarified my intentions.

[Woody]

perfect :) I think it's obvious. it's just me.

[Kuro]

A very deep story, the content of which as you relate is in Jewish folk lore. I can almost remember hearing this story somewhere but I can't recall who told me. The story is well written. Regarding English not being your native tongue, I would say your English would be considered excellent even for a native speaker. I am bilingual and my native tongue is Urdu. For reasons that I once put down for news print (http://tribune.com.pk/story/172029/music-sounds-in-an-empty-room/), I consider English to be my dominant language.

[LastMonth]

Thank you kindly for the review!

[ZJC]

I must say, for English not being your native tongue, you sure write like it is. Description of the places and foods was excellent. The overall meaning of the story is one that will leave the reader wondering if they would make that sacrifice like the man.

My only suggestion would be to go over it again and just clean up some things, perhaps a sentence can be adjusted and let the paragraphs flow more freely. Otherwise, excellent story.

[LastMonth]

Thanks alot for the review man. Appreciated. I'm glad you found the messege thought invoking!
The messege I think the story is trying to hit, more then the sacrarfice, is that Hell and Heaven are quite the same, with the only difference being the people inhabiting it.