Collected Stories Read Online Free Page A

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    Caroline opened her door and crept out onto the landing. The house slept; the world—Jehovah slept, for the silence was absolute. She trod softly down the stairs, tip-toed along the hall and opened the front door.
    Outside the sky was a dark blue roof, pinpointed with stars, and she was afraid, for there was so much emptiness, no comforting walls, and the night breeze was an evil thing that tore at her robe. Only the great urge stopped her from rushing back into the house, for she must go out into the wild lands; to die perhaps, but it would be a clean death, and no harm would come to the Uncle and Aunt.
    The rough road was cruel to her bare feet, and the starlit gloom was alive with gibbering shadows that mocked and tried vainly with voiceless mouths to shout her presence aloud. She passed houses, all built of wood and painted black, so that Jehovah might not see them, but of course He did; one had been shaken down. Only the temple was built of stone. Jehovah’s statue stood a little way to the right; thirty feet tall, the work of three generations. His stern face looked upwards, gazing with sightless eyes at the stars; in His right hand He held a seven-thonged flail, and in His left a forked thunder-flash. On the base was etched the familiar words:
    JEHOVAH CREATED HE MAN IN HIS OWN IMAGE.
    Caroline fled from the temple, fled from the presence of dread Jehovah, and ran past the last few houses, until she came within sight of the open wild lands that stretched out great arms to greet her. She did not know about the night watch, the two men who prowled the village limits, ever alert lest some raiding party from afar should suddenly strike. They came out of the shadows and shouted:
    ‘Who are you? Stop.’
    Caroline turned on her tracks and ran, and the hard pounding of booted feet came after her. She darted between two houses, stumbled across a cultivated back garden, tore her gown clambering through a low hedge. But now doors were opening, people were pouring out; she ran into a man when turning a corner, and he saw her face.
    ‘Monster—a monster!’
    He clutched her gown and it ripped as she broke away, and the cry was relayed from mouth to mouth, until the earth—the very heavens—were screaming the dreadful word:
    ‘Monster—monster!’
    She had never run before in her life, never before walked on bare earth, and her strength was soon exhausted. Somehow, she had come back into the main street, and there was Jehovah, standing before His temple, staring up at the stars, and judging the world. She collapsed at His feet, and looked up at His stone face.
    ‘Mercy, Almighty, mercy on me—a monster.’
    But the face was pitiless, the great flail was poised above her, and the pursuers, many with lighted torches, were closing in, and there was no hope anywhere, either on the earth, in the badlands, or in the stars.
    They pulled her roughly to her feet, ripped the tattered gown from her body, and their faces became twisted with disgust when the malformed shape was revealed.
    ‘Where did you come from?’ a watchman struck her across the face, ‘who’s been hiding you?’
    That was a question that must not be answered, and she tried not to scream when they punched her stomach, kicked her and flung her to the ground.
    The temple Elders were gaunt from much fasting, and one had a large pin driven through his cheeks, and the crowd drew back, for he was very holy. His voice was muffled, as the pin stopped his tongue from functioning naturally, and his face was like Jehovah’s, as though it, too, were hewn from stone.
    ‘Cease. No one in the village would dare harbour her. If they had, we would have been smitten long since.’
    Caroline marvelled, and looked up again at the stone God.
    ‘She has come in from the badlands, a gift from Jehovah, so that we might sacrifice. Bring her into the temple, and let us give praise.’
    She was dragged in through the doorway, across the paved floor, speckled with colour