Flash fiction by Michael H. Brownstein

At the crossroads, our gods entertained us.

Saturday night, we caught two men who did not belong. We imprisoned them in sand until only their heads were exposed as our gods watched.

Then the earth began to shake releasing a fresh spring. Carob trees sprouted. There was shade and refreshment. An angel appeared badly disfigured. Not able to fold her wings, she kneeled before them.

There was no need for this. These men were different. They did not belong. They disserved punishment. With a look, she silenced us.

An earthquake set them free, and a great light settled over Bethlehem.

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