Can I have a word with you?

We may have words,

That book is The Word,

Love,

Obey,

Cherish,

More words,

Pledge,

Allegiance,

Constitution,

Freedom,

Country,

Home,

Mother,

Words,

People,

Die,

About,

But the most,

Died for,

Word is,

God.

Sherrill was 17 years old and small for her age when compared to American girls. She had a wealth of knowledge, especially about religion. All I knew about religion was the responsive readings in the English High Church where my mother took me when I was in California, and that was only on certain occasions like Thanksgiving and Christmas. There seemed to be nothing supernatural about the English High Church religion.

Of Ateem’s two daughters Sherrill and Amy, Sherrill was the talker, Amy was the extra. The first thing Sherrill said when I was alone with the two sisters, and they both were waiting naked for me to decide who to screw first, she said, “Lord God Felix my sister and I will both become pregnant with your boy .  I had teachers who taught me, and also an angel named Betty who appeared to me and gave me special knowledge so I could better serve you.”

“What kind of special knowledge do you have Sherrill?”  I asked.

“I know most of the powers you have, but I don’t know all of them yet.  One of them I can tell you, but with the angel’s warning.”

“What pray tell is that power?”

“You can raise the dead, and the first person you will bring back is your father.  You are not to worry when you bring him back he will appear normal, but will just advise you, and will be your servant.”

“That doesn’t sound at all like my father.”  I told her.

Bing dead and where he was for over a month will make him a meek and mild person, but he will have information to allow you to continue living, and to eradicate your enemies.”

“This angel Betty told you that?”

“Yes I was born to help you as your slave, as was my sister.  She is here to have a 2nd son.  We will both be pregnant the first time you have us, but we hope we have learned enough about sex so that you will use us for your amusement.”

Sherrill shook her naked self around as she talked, and it was a vast understatement that she looked just lie an amusement.

“I hate to be so crude, but what I keep in my pants is maybe my most important power.”

“Yes master, I agree your penis holds the power of generations to come, your sons will be kings, and you will be revered as the greatest emperor of all time.”

The attractive thing about Sherrill and Amy was their shapes, they were sexy angular and they moved around in my hands as I touched them, not avoiding my hands, but accommodating, and pressing into my palms.

When I got the 2 sisters form India I had many other females available.  There were girls from school, the daughters of the disloyal governors (who poisoned my father), and girl gifts celebrating my rise to emperor, but no other girls told me I could raise the dead.  I had no other messages from an angel.

The sisters worked on me as a team, and erotic team, as I screwed Amy, Sherrill would dance and move around us.

Both sisters very virgins, but had been taught to please a man with their mouths, legs, hands and what was most interesting between their legs.  The female tongue is the most expressive instrument a female has for words and where it licks, and how.  Sherrill knew that secret for sure.

After I implanted my seeds in both girls I said, “When Sherrill will i make my father come alive?”

“When ever you want master.”  She said, “It would be best if you told the newspapers that you would do it, and then with the entire world watching brought him forth from the tomb, but you do not yet believe you can do it, so you will do it first in private.”

“He’s been dead a month,”  I said, “Won’t he be rotted already?” 

“No master, you will restore him, he will be of course different, but like new, so he can help you subdue your enemies in Congress.”

“I would like to talk to my father.”

“Master why not film him coming alive, after filming him dead?  You could have 4 or 5 well-known doctors filmed checking him over to prove him dead, then you go wake him up, and raise him from the dead.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Just tell him to get up and worship you.  You may need to touch him.”

“Well that seems simple enough.”  I said.

Father had not been buried underground, but in his own tomb in the Charlotte Life Center.  It was a series of buildings for the rich dead.

I met the doctors in the New Life Center. It was where we had the grave site ceremony before father was shut in his coffin and rolled over to his building.

The English High Church Father was Mr. Edgar Callifin and that day he had said, “Dust to dust, on Earth, with rewards in heaven.”

Mother had cried during the entire ceremony which was curious based on how quickly she divorced him and moved from North Carolina to California.  I never heard her say how sorry she was to have left him.  Of course she was always curious about what Henry was doing.  He was always the center of her curiosity.

While we waited for all the doctors to arrive, and every camera crew invited to set up their massive equipment, the funeral home people turned on every light around.  A very dark and eerie place that extended over a huge area, like a town of crosses and buildings that no one was alive in, became a lit place.  Some of the media trucks had batteries of lights on them.  I was Emperor of most of the World, and how many times did I call out press for a conference where I claimed to bring my father back to life. 

There was something about Sherrill and a certain mysticism about her.  I believed that anyone who could do all she did to me in and around my bed, could surely raise the dead.  It was not faith, because that faltered with every light that switched on.

With me came 500 troops that I could see, and I knew thousands more were around  on the outside.  That was true wherever I went.  I also had about 250 bodyguards.  About a hundred people followed me around including my advisor Max.  Max had been dad’s advisor, and he did fairly well, but my dad did die from poison.  Dad was a public relations person himself, but governed mostly from underground and governed behind closed doors.  I also had my best girls around me.

“What if Henry just doesn’t get out of his casket?”  Max said in a whisper to me.

“Then I won’t be showing the film.”  I said.

Sherrill was standing right beside me and said, “If his father doesn’t come alive he will kill me and stuff me in the coffin with his father.  It is a new twist for an old Indian tradition, but I do not intend to die.  I aim to have at least four of his children.”

“I see why you’re doing this Ferris,” Max said.

I was dressed in a fancy silk blue robe for my ‘recovery of the dead’ ceremony.  Sherrill had my outfit all ready, brought by her father Ateem.  The Indian film team was filming as I drove in the cemetary gates.

“In the autopsy” the doctor father had said, when he arrived, “I cut out his vital organs and tested them.  I didn’t know what you plan to do with him without heart, lungs kidney, liver, but only about half of him is in the casket.”

“This is a spiritual exercise, not a physical one,” Sherrill said to the doctor.

“And who is this?” Doctor Kaleb said.

“This is my spiritual advisor Sherrill Ateem and her sister Amy Ateem.”

“So what do you propose to do?” the doctor asked me.

“The God Ferris will bring his father back to life.  It is an example of life’s circle., his father produced him, and now he raises up his father.” Sherrill said.

“There is no chance of that,” a fat doctor said, “Henry Strober had his vital organs cut out and his body is filled with a preservative liquid, there’s not a drop of blood near him.”

“All the doctors need to do is certify that Henry Strober is indeed dead, do all the tests needed to be certain that there is absolutely no life in him.”  Sherrill told them, “open the casket.”

I expected a bad smell when the casket opened, but he had not been underground only in a clean vault;  very spacious and decorated with wall carvings with a tile floor.  Father did not look any different from when the casket was closed and the smell was like a closet where clothes have been closed up for a while and may need dry cleaning.  The face decorators at the funeral place had not made him look normal, but he did not look like someone who had died of poison.  I had seen the faces of seven people who died while I watched recently of poison, and the makeup artists had covered up the look of pain.  Also poisons tend to bloat the bodies — like baloon swelling.  That was not there in dad.

The doctors lifted and dropped his arms and legs.  One put a stethoscope on his chest and said, “No heartbeat.”

Another doctor said, “No life whatever.”

I looked at the expressions of the people there, the 5 people with cameras from the local TV stations looked sleepy.  I couldn’t read any judgment in their faces.  The cameras were pointed at me as much as the body of father.

The camera crew from India looked wide awake for 2 AM, but fearful a bit.  I just walked over to dad’s casket and touched his forehead and hair saying, “Come back to life dad I can use you alive.”

I think I was more surprised than anyone when he sat up.

I moved back to where Sherrill and Amy stood, and motioned to my two close bodyguards saying in a voice that didn’t even sound like mine, “Help him out of there.”

River and Andrew who were recovering from knife wounds helped him out of his casket.

Max whispered to me, “No one is going to believe this Ferris.  I saw it, and I don’t believe it.”

The camera men were walking around getting shots of me and dad, and Sherrill said, “Your advisor is right God Ferris, pick someone else in the cemetery, and bring them back.”

“Maybe that would convince, if they had died long ago.  How old is this cemetery?”  I asked rather loud.

“Over 700 years old” one of the funeral officials said, “I’m Klde Mamor the assistant manager of New Life  Center.”

“Where are the oldest clients that don’t have to be dug up Klyde?” I said.

“That would be in the ‘Long Resting’  section.  This type of residence began in 1900.”

“Lead us to that area of the cemetery Klyde.  I want to pick one of the older ones and bring him, or her back.”

We all walked out of the ceremony area and into the night, but the camera crews lights lit up the whole area following Klyde.  In the very back of the new big structures were smaller stone and marble places.  They looked like dirty backyard sheds where people might keep lawn mowing machines except for angel figures on them.  Some of the angels had broken parts, like faces or arms.

Jennie Grappleton and assistant principal from my school that I used as an advisor, and more said, “Master I don’t like it back here with all these lights.  It makes you a target.”

“I’ll pick one quick.”  I said and I looked at the little buildings one which said on the door ‘Francis Lusing devoted father of four.  Never happy with as many wives.’  The dates were 1880 to 1931.

I went on and said, “Do you have anyone younger Klyde?”

“We have the one the cemetery workers call ‘The Princess’ her crept has the most angels on it.”

We went to a marble structure, small but covered with angels.  The angels were sitting on top, laying down and pictured in flight on the outside walls.  The door plaque said, ‘I LIT UP THE WORLD, BUT DIED AS LITTLE MORE THAN A CHILD. 1880-1904′

“This one!”  I said, “open it up and take the coffin to the ceremony building.”

“But this one is sealed, and if the coffin was of wood, well it is just dust by now along with the girl.” Klyde said.

“Bring me all you can.”  I told him and walked with some of the cameramen back to the main center.

Doctor Kaleb came near me on the way back and said, “Ferris you won’t need 3 doctors anymore will you?  We all need to go to work tomorrow.  Some of us have operations scheduled.”

“This is more important.  You will all stay and determine if the girl is alive.”

“If she’s been dead since 1904, 700 or more years ago, she is surely dead!” Kaleb said.

I motioned to my father walking near me, and said, “How do you feel?”

“Not so bad son, but I’m glad you pulled me back from where I was.”

“Where were you dad?”

“It’s a big waiting room, where the ones who wait sit all day long, and night under bright lights.  We were waiting for a decision to be made about us.  I never read magazines, but the tables were loaded with magazines.  The issues were all ones that I had seen before, and the other’s like me waiting talked on and on about subjects I had head.  The gist was boredom.

We never saw the judging or directors or doctors, but heard screams and then the patient would come out and wait again.  They never talked about what was done to them.  I never went in, and then you brought me back.  It was a nightmare that seemed like a doctor’s office.

“It sounds unpleasant.” I said.

“Yes and those of us waiting can’t even get up to pee, our legs will only work when we go to and from the doctor’s office, or whatever demon lurks in the office we were called to.  We didn’t eat or make urine, or walk until told to.”

“Who was there?”  I asked.

“Six hundred men.  The rumor was that when you were called in they cut your dick off.   No one who came out ever said that was it.  I know men are sensitive about losing their dick or balls — I had a few of my enemies cut there, and I saw the reactions, it’s not something men brag about.  Oh we asked exactly what happened; but got no replies. 

It was a bad place.  One thing son, every one of us had English High Church Funerals.  Every one of us was murdered.  Some were shot, or strangled, or in my case poisoned.  There is a huge variety of murder.”

“That type of funeral and letting someone murder you seems like something to avoid.  But how did you know about that?”

“The dead are not that dead son.  We know everything that happens until we are left in the dark, in our tomb.  Then I went somehow to the lighted office., and sat with the others and waited for the screams to become mine.”

It was not long after I got back to the funeral main meeting room what the casket of the girl was rolled in and opened.  The casket itself was covered with angels, some lined the coffin and the flesh was all gone leaving carved interior angels with different shades of black mold covering them.  The interior was a pile of rubble, rotted cloth that must have lined the coffin and a pitiful pile of bones.

“OK doctors,” I said, “look at the remains and each of you explain, in your opinion, tell us could this girl be alive?” .

“This is a pelvic bone of a once live human.  It was maybe inside a 12-year-old boy or girl.  You can’t pick up a fleshless pelvic bone of a live human.  This one is dead.”  One doctor said.

I let each of them tell me she was dead and then I said, “Fay Marie Goldsmith appear to us in life.  I wish to use you.”

I touched the pelvic bone that the first doctor had put back into the coffin.

Suddenly, like in the blink of an eye, a girl appeared in the coffin.  There was no smoke, or dust, or a noise, cloud or swirl of any kind — but all at once there she was.  Unlike father she stood up at once and said, “Why am I aroused from my sleep?”

“You are Faye Marie Goldsmith aren’t you?”  I asked.

“All my life.”  She said, in a very girlish voice, that I liked, it was a little high pitched.

“Where do you think you have been Fay?”  I asked her as she stepped out of the casket.  She was dressed in period clothes, too much clothing, layers of it.  It was mostly yellow and pink, of muted shades.

“I’ve been dead, I fell out of a carriage and broke my neck, but it must be better now, because,”  she moved her neck around looking from side to side, “everything in the neck works now.”

“I’m Ferris Strober, and I brought you back to life to be my slave girl.”

“The slaves were all emancipated over 25 years ago by Abraham Lincoln, this is the United States?”

“Yes and Charlotte North Carolina, and I brought you back to life, and now own you.”

“You look like a prince or something, and I’m surely glad not to be dead anymore.”

“So what was it like to be dead Fay?” I said., taking hold of her arm.  It was not as soft as modern girls.  I kept holding it.

“Well it was boring, we ate and slept, then ate and slept some more.”

“Who was there?”

“Just girls my age, other Jewish girls who had tragic deaths.  None of us were ever married.

We trooped from the dining hall to the bedroom, and we had current books to read, but after years passed, we got tired of keeping up.

I got where I didn’t care what was happening in the world, and just slept more and ate less.

Most of us who talked about boys a hundred years or so, got tired of even being girls.  Gender doesn’t mean much when you’re a dead virgin for 200 years.”

All of what she said was being recorded, but I decided to pull the plug and go home.

At home, which was Sally’s old house, and Sally was one of my harem girls, one that I first picked when I had just turned twelve..  She was one of my school friends.  Well Sally greeted me at the door dressed in absolutely nothing and Betty another school friend also dressed in zip.

“Betty,” I said, “this is the new slave girl Fay Marie Goldsmith take her back to Lisa and have her make sure the girl is cleaned u to be ready for bed tonight.”

Lisa was Sally’s sister, and maybe better looking than any girl in the harem, but was resistant to sex with me, so was left with her mother and Sally’s mother as a shower girl, and bathroom utility.

“I know what the word ‘fuck’ means”, Fay said, “this must be an indecent place, not for good girls.  I’ve always been a good girl, a very good girl, sort of religious in my religion.  Before I broke my neck I may have laughed too much sometimes.

These girls are naked!”

“Yes, very, extremely naked.”  I said and closed the door, we entered the main room, “This is my harem, which you will become a part of.”

“Harems are things kings or sheiks have where they keep women.  You ar a boy and told me this is still Charlotte North Carolina?”

“I’m Emperor of the United States and India.” I told her.

“India I remember is a colony of Gret Britain or England.  That was the last I read about it.”

“I somewhat control those islands.”

“England?” Fay said.

“Yes, from distances it’s really hard to control the people without a religious component.  In England I control the economy.  They pay their taxes to me.  The spiritual part we are working on, like by bringing you back from the dead.”

“Why are you here in North Carolina instead of Washington, London as the emperor?”  Fay said, “this looks like about the same size house when we drove thru the streets when I was here before, and this is not large like an Emperor’s palace.  It is not anything as large as my families’ house on Elm Street.”

“I like Charlotte, I grew up here, and my father lived here.  I brought him back to life tonight to.”

“How did he die?”  Fay asked.

“Poison,”  I said and told Betty, “take Fay to the shower, and tell Lisa she is personally responsible to clean up this slave.”

____________________________________________________

Contact the writer by leaving comments here, or at rcates2@cox.net

Many of the other stories of Ray Cates can be found after the story ‘Teeth’ which is at: http://unsightlyteeth.wordpress.com

His fax number is: 1-352-629-1573

Suicide

Is

A

Stupid

Way

To

Hide

 

Death

Means

Offline

Permanence

 

Stone

Angels

Are

Non-breathing

Rock

 

Coffins

Are

Not

Meant

For

Standing

 

No

Return

Tickets

Come

With

Funerals.

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