A message from Richard G Stevens to all members of Book Excerpts on Authors! Mrs Harvey died whilst tending her husband’s grave and arrived at the gates of heaven, “Oh hello Mrs Harvey,” said Saint Peter, “we saw your name was on the list yesterday.” Mrs Harvey smiled enigmatically, “Bert wasn’t too surprised when I finished on top of him, then – he knew I was coming.” “Well perhaps you’ll be able to ask him, he’s working in the garden somewhere.” “How wonderful I haven’t seen him for twenty years – he’ll be like a toy-boy to me, won’t he? Can I go in right now?” “I am sorry Mrs Harvey but the rules have changed since your husband arrived, entry isn’t on the nod anymore.” “But I’ve always been a good Christian and lived my life by God’s teachings – whatever is the problem?” “No, no, Mrs Harvey – it has nothing to do with you, we know you are a good woman. No, the devil and the Lord signed up to a new deal where entry is no longer automatic; now you have to spend a day in hell and a day in heaven. Then you decide where you want to spend eternity.” “But my Bert’s here in heaven.” “As I said, Mrs Harvey, it’s just the one day, now would you prefer to tour hell or heaven first?” “Oh I suppose I’d just as well get hell out of the way first – but it’s a total waste of time.” “I’m sorry, but treaties are treaties,” said St Peter, picking up his telephone. “Ah hello, St Peter here, is that the secretary to Beelzebub?” “It is.” “We have a Mrs Harvey here who has just arrived and she wishes to tour your place first.” “Put her in the lift, I’ll tell my master she’s on the way down.” By the time poor Mrs Harvey felt the bump of the lift stopping, she had got herself into a frightful state.” The doors slid open but Mrs Harvey, her teeth chattering, could not bring herself to look... “Good morning, Mrs Harvey, welcome to my domain. There’s nothing to worry about – the bible sometimes exaggerates, you know,” spoke a deep, friendly voice. Mrs Harvey looked around and there stood a most handsome man, with greying temples and dressed smartly in a morning suit. Beneath an inviting smile he held out his hand, “Please don’t be afraid, Mrs Harvey, I am Lord Lucifer but you may call me Nicholas,” he added, with a suggestive whisper whilst playfully looking about.” The Devil took her on a personal tour of his domain. She saw people sitting by babbling brooks picnicking; children running around laughing and giggling; a group of older ladies chattering as they knitted or crocheted. After a tiring morning meeting and chatting to the happiest of people, she was taken for lunch in a bright modern canteen that would put some earthly top restaurants to shame. After lunch, Nicholas drove her around his estate in a limousine and when they stopped to admire the view, he gently held her hand and she felt a long-lost surge of emotion ... Nothing in hell was as she had feared. The devil had whisked her to every corner, and stood patiently as she talked with whom she liked. At the end of her appointed time he took her back to the lift, “It’s been a pleasure to have you here, Helen. I do hope we shall meet again.” “I thank you for your unexpected kindness, Nicholas, but I doubt it – you see, my husband is in heaven and I really must go to him after twenty years apart.” “I am bereft, Helen but it is your choice, of course,” said the devil with a sad smile as he reached in and pushed the ‘up’ button. She watched with wrenching regret as he bowed deeply to her and she spent her assent thinking thoughts she shouldn’t, ‘Ah, thank God, I am saved – heaven at last’. The doors slid open and there was St Peter waiting, “You look a little flustered, Mrs Harvey. What did you think of hell?” “It really isn’t relevant.” she muttered evasively, “I only went there because of your silly new rules.” “Of course, of course – I’ve asked Saint Theresa here to show you around – then you must come back here, let me know your final decision and sign over your soul.” “You do know this is a waste of time...” “As I said Mrs...” “I know – it’s the new rules,” she sighed, “come on then Saint T– let’s take a look at my new home.” Twenty-four long hours later, she was back with St Peter. “Still choosing heaven?” he asked, passing her a quill pen. “Not damn likely,” she replied, “what a boring place – it’s worse than day-time television or listening to politicians. There are people sat on damp clouds strumming harps, children learning by rote, household chores with no modern machines and tasteless food served in soup kitchens. Even God looks like he hates his job. No, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I am choosing hell!” “What about your husband?” “I spent enough time with him before – he’s more boring than ever now. He didn’t do much for me then and he’s beyond hope nowadays. No, would you please let Nicholas know I’m returning to him.” “Sign your soul over to him, then – that’s it. Tick the box saying you have read and understood the terms and conditions and make sure you tick the box marked ‘eternity means forever – not just a weekend’ and sign at the bottom. Saint Theresa and I will sign the witness boxes and... well, you can be on your way.” She rushed to the lift, waiting impatiently for the door to open. St Peter stood outside, “Now you must press the ‘down’ button yourself as a final act of confirmation.” She pressed it with abandon and started her final journey, ‘just think, if I’d died when Bert did I’d be stuck in that boring backwater.’ She grew excited at the thought of Nicholas whispering in her ear and his warm hands upon her. Playfully she looked away coquettishly as the lift jarred to a stop. “Mrs Harvey,” growled a voice – come along.” She glanced round – there was no outstretched arm, no morning suit and the devil now sported horns and an ugly tail; he had blood around his mouth and his hairy black hands were holding a whip, “Come UK/E23972588 Harvey H.” He and an assistant dragged her screaming down the path she had trodden so happily before; there were no picnics; no happy children. All around she could hear screams, shrieks and spine-tingling sobbing interlaced by sadistic commands. “I don’t understand,” she said to the devil, “it wasn’t like this yesterday!” “Of course not, Mrs Harvey,” he cackled, “yesterday we were recruiting!” Visit Book Excerpts at: authors/groups/group/show?id=3798404%3AGroup%3A95953&xg_source=msg_mes_group --
Posted on: Wed, 10 Dec 2014 19:04:16 +0000
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