Free Long After Midnight by Ray Bradbury Page B

thy
brethren.' And Simon-called-Peter took the fish that baked upon the white-hot
coals and fed the Disciples. And Christ's frail Ghost then said, Take of my
word and tell it among the nations of all the world and preach therein
forgiveness of sin.'
                 "And
then Christ left them. And, in my screenplay, I had Him walk along the shore of Galilee toward the horizon. And when anyone walks
toward the horizon, he seems to ascend, yes? For all land rises at a distance.
And He walked on along the shore until He was just a small mote, far away. And
then they could see Him no more.
                 "And
as the sun rose upon the ancient world, all His thousand footprints that lay
along the shore blew away in the dawn winds and were as nothing.
                 "And
the Disciples left the ashes of that bed of coals to scatter in sparks, and
with the taste of Real and Final and True Last Supper upon their mouths, went
away. And in my screenplay, I had my camera drift high above to watch the
Disciples move some north, some south, some to the east, to tell the world what
Needed to Be Told about One Man. And their footprints, circling in all directions,
like the spokes of an immense wheel, blew away out of the sand in the winds of
morn. And it was a new day. the end."
                 The
young Priest stood in the center of his friends, cheeks fired with color, eyes
shut. Suddenly he opened his eyes, as if remembering where he was:
                 "Sorry."
                 "For
what?" cried the Bishop, brushing his eyelids with the back of his hand,
blinking rapidly. "For making me weep twice in one night? What,
self-conscious in the presence of your own love for Christ? Why, you have given
the Word back to me, me! who has
known the Word for what seems a thousand years! You have freshened my soul, oh
good young man with the heart of a boy. The eating of fish on Galilee 's shore is the True Last Supper. Bravo. You deserve to meet Him. The Second Coming,
it's only fair, must be for youl "
                 "I
am unworthy!" said Father Niven .
                 "So
are we all! But if a trade of souls were possible, I'd loan mine out on this
instant to borrow yours fresh from the laundry. Another toast, gentlemen? To
Father Niven ! And then, good night, it's late, good
night."
                 The
toast was drunk and all departed; the Rabbi and the Ministers down the hill to
their holy places, leaving the Priests to stand a last moment at their door
looking out at Mars, this strange world, and a cold wind blowing.
                 Midnight came and then one and two, and at three in
the cold deep morning of Mars, Father Niven stirred.
Candles flickered in soft whispers. Leaves fluttered against his window.
                 Suddenly
he sat up in bed, half-startled by a dream of mob-cries and pursuits. He
listened.
                 Far
away, below, he heard the shutting of an outside door.
                 Throwing
on a robe, Father Niven went down the dim rectory
stairs and through the church where a dozen candles here or there kept their
own pools of light.
                 He
made the rounds of all the doors, thinking: Silly, why lock churches? What is
there to steal? But still he prowled the sleeping night...
                 ...
and found the front door of the church unlocked, and softly being pushed in by
the wind.
                 Shivering,
he shut the door.
                 Soft
running footsteps.
                 He
spun about.
                 The
church lay empty. The candle flames leaned now this way, now that in their
shrines. There was only the ancient smell of wax and incense burning, stuffs
left over from all the marketplaces of time and history; other suns, and other noons .
                 In
the midst of glancing at the crucifix above the main altar, he