Parables of the Bible: Prophets
By: Wilona Riva
Disclaimer: God owns the Bible; I just borrow it from time to time. The cloven hooves, well, Satan is sometimes depicted in religious art with them, so here they are and here they'll stay.
Prophets of Baal
Cecil scowled up into the growing twilight. "Why don't you answer us, O Baal?"
"Maybe he's sleeping or maybe he's travelling? Oh wait, I know, he's deep in thought!" Elijah the prophet of El howled at his own wit.
"He'll rue this day," Cecil muttered, as he sliced his left forearm with a ceremonial dagger. The blood dripped onto the ground around the altar.
"Accept, O Baal, this offering of blood. Hear us, O divine one, and send fire from heaven. Kill the profaner of your altar," Cecil cried, the pain sharp and fresh in his mind.
"You know, old friend, I really do believe I was busy today," Satan sneered. "Too busy to care about you pathetic mud-men. Even I have the common decency not to contest the Most High in such defiance."
He patted the top of the grave mound. "May you rot in torment all the rest of Eternity, old fool."
He hopped off the grave and whistled merrily as his cloven hooves clicked on the stony mound. He turned back and grinned cheekily at Cecil's finally resting place. "Oh and yes, blind one, thank you for the gift of blood, my friend. Four hundred and fifty thanks."
He grinned. "Shalom," he sardonically saluted the air above him.
Adonai grimaced.
1 Kings 18: 16-29.