I'm late on this -- Donal, Elisa and Isobel have had their posts up for hours now.
This is a short bit of fiction based on a photo one of us has found on Flickr:
Vonetta and I had traveled out from Winnipeg as soon as we heard. It took us six days of traveling, with the bulk of that spent in her mother's 1980 Dodge Colt.
We spent 40 days sitting outside the tomb, sharing what we had with other faithful who had come to see. We met a really nice couple from Laughlin, Nev., so now we have somewhere to stay if we're ever out that way.
That's one of the things these nonbelievers don't understand -- how his actions bring his us believers closer together. I know that it's through him that my marriage to Vonetta has survived. We've had a lot of ups and downs, and we stick through it together thanks to his examples.
He had promised to return on the 40th day, and crowds of people had turned up to see. Of course the nonbelievers pushed to the front. Vonetta and I had been there for 40 days with him, and suddenly we were having to share our spot with an annoying woman with an American South accent.
"Man, this is such bullshit," she squawked. "Where's the magic in this?"
"It's not magic, cretin," I said. "It's an act of faith. You wouldn't understand. You couldn't understand."
"Faith? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Yes. Faith. Myself and my soul partner, Vonetta, have been here for the full 40 days, waiting for him to return. We believe in him, and that helps us to be better people."
"The hell? Some card shuckin' fool locks himself in a tomb for 40 days and you're gonna sit here and pray to him? You're fucking stupid. Man, this David Blaine ain't shit."
How dare she?! Why do I even talk to nonbelievers? They only make me angry. I was about to tear into her, I mean, really start screaming at her, when I felt the crowd lurch forward. I spun around and saw his face -- David's face -- peering out from one of the tiny vault windows. He looked weak. His eyes turned toward one of his assistants, who was standing just outside the vault.
"What's the combination?" David asked.
"36-22-16," the assistant said.
The face of David slipped back into darkness. The chain holding the vault shut started moving, and I saw the padlock slip through the window and into the black. I held my breath. The door pushed open slowly, silently, and David staggered out. His assistants rushed to him and threw a blanket around him as he fell to his knees. He had put himself through this for us.
"I love you David!" Vonetta screamed.
"I love you," I shouted.
He looked at us and smiled. He looked at us. He looked directly at me and Vonetta. How could the nonbeliever next to us not understand after that?