The sun coming through the distant window was warm, much more so than in previous days. Teresa could tell winter was ending. She never went outside, of course, for the world beyond the Great Door was not for one such as her. That place was for God alone to traverse.
She meandered across the thick wooden platform, amidst the strange machines her Lord labored so hard to craft, and found the sunbeam irresistible. The warmth was soothing, almost invigorating, as if she were indulging in a hot shower made entirely of light. There was a time, before she died and came to live in the house of her Lord, when a shower was a luxury she could enjoy whenever she willed. Now she existed only to please God, which was as it should be.
She looked around the huge cathedral that was her home. The plateau before her stretched out into the distance, covered with odd devices, parts, and half-built circuitry. Beyond that, the room opened wide, into the home in which her Lord lived. A couch, chairs, dining table, and more filled the vast chamber, all scaled to a size fitting only the Lord God Almighty. To her left, at the edge of the platform, her own home waited, a human-sized house designed just for her. God was gracious and good, and bestowed upon her a place to live while she aided Him in His holy tasks. She bowed her head and gave thanks in silent prayer, as she so often did, and settled down amidst the sunbeams. She had worked hard this day, and God would understand if she took a break. She was, after all, only human.
Teresa Patrocinio Macedo had lived in the house of God for six months now, working and aiding Him in His blessed work. She had long black hair, hazel eyes, and a fair complexion dotted here and there with the occasional freckle. When she died at twenty-eight years of age, she was perhaps twenty pounds overweight, a problem she always promised herself she would one day correct. Now, after climbing and cleaning in the Lord's great home for so long, she was fit and trim, without a trace of fat anywhere on her lean, graceful figure. She knew that this, too, pleased the Lord God, for He often looked upon her longingly, and she knew He appreciated her svelte form, especially when He rewarded her hard work with welcome massages from His great fingers.
Teresa leaned her head back and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift back to the day she first found herself within the Hand of God. There had been the terrible shock, of course, and she cringed with embarrassment at the memory of how she'd screamed and cried in His presence. Then, eyes closed and weeping, she recalled that just before, she'd experienced her own death. There was the argument with Miguel, just another in a long line of fights, only this time he was relentless, chasing her, swinging, lost in drug-induced anger...and then he rushed her, smashing through the window...she still remembered, even through the shock of falling, how much her fingernails hurt from breaking on the fire escape railing as she tumbled head over heels towards the street fifteen floors below...
Then there was the impact, taking her breath away, and she knew she had died, only to awaken in His massive hand, the face of the Almighty gazing down upon her in all His glory. That God wore glasses did not surprise her. He was by no means perfect, unlike the stories she'd been told, growing up in the Catholic schools in her native Rio de Janiero. He had made Man in His own image, and He had the same sort of face as His far smaller creation. Thick-nosed, with a salt-and-pepper beard and mustache, spotted with bumps and freckles of His own, and huge soulful eyes that seemed to swallow her up. There was no menace there, nothing to fear, and she soon learned the folly of her initial terrified reaction to His countenance. Only His great size frightened her at first, but now she understood. God loved her, as He did all His creations, and would never harm her.
The afterlife wasn't what Teresa expected at all, but then, the concept of angels singing in choirs and flitting about amidst the clouds always seemed silly to her. Still, she did find it odd that the Lord would choose her specifically to be His personal servant. Surely there were any number of souls He could choose from? What was it about Teresa Patrocinio Macedo that made her so special? He must have seen something in her, though, and for that she was grateful. Serving God was all she wanted and needed, all she desired from her existence now.
She missed her old life not at all. Miguel Pereira de Sousa, whom she'd convinced herself she loved, was a good man when he was sober, but when he got together within his corrupt friends, he turned cruel and vicious. She knew, even now, that those "friends" were actually involved in the Rio criminal underworld, to what level she didn't know. She heard them talking sometimes, about drugs and money and hits, but those were things she no longer cared about. She was in God's hands now, and when Miguel and his friends died as she had, probably sooner rather than later, He would pronounce His divine judgment upon them, and they would surely find themselves in Hell, where they most certainly belonged.
The warmth of the sun did feel wonderful. Teresa felt herself slowly drifting off to sleep, and she smiled at how blessed she was. That she could feel this way, so comfortable and happy, without a care in the world, was truly a testament to the wonders of her Lord. Even if He came home now, and found her napping, He would not lift His hand against her. He would probably smile, and perhaps even laugh, and if there was any punishment it would come in the form of a tickling session with His favorite feather.
Teresa awoke a few minutes later, or was it an hour? She had no way to tell. She did feel refreshed, though. So strange that even in death, her body would still need sleep, and food, and everything she remembered from life. Perhaps this was not how death was for most, but because He had need of her, He ensured she experienced the afterlife as she had before dying. Yes, that was most certainly the case. Everything He did, He did for a reason, after all.
The sound that woke her was that strange clanking noise outside the Great Door that always announced the return of her Lord. She stood and brushed her long hair back, absently looking down at the tight bodysuit she always wore when keeping His machines clean and tidy. The flimsy garment was stained and dirty, of course, but He wouldn't mind. She smiled, knowing that soon she would be in His hands again, where she would be safe and sound.
The Great Door opened. Beyond, all was light, save for a few twisting branches of huge trees far away, a few giant leaves sprouting at the first sign of spring. The seasons passed here in Heaven as they did on Earth. A small part of Teresa wanted to go outside, and see what glories awaited, but He wouldn't allow it, and that was all she needed to know. He wouldn't keep her from such things if she were capable of safely experiencing them. Perhaps some day, she would be allowed to see a tiny measure of what lay beyond, as in the glimpse of the great trees and distant Sun, but if so, it would be on His terms, not hers.
The Lord God stepped inside, dressed in His unkempt, ordinary clothes, just as He had when He departed some hours before. His hands held several bags of what she assumed would be more parts for His strange devices. He glanced about, saw her tiny form, and smiled. Setting down the packages, He approached, towering over her like a skyscraper, His slightly pudgy, bewhiskered face filling her sky. He was at least a hundred feet tall, or so it seemed, but she felt no fear, only humility and gladness at His presence.
She waved, smiling, and waited for His hand to descend, and one did a moment later. She climbed in amongst the wrinkles and calluses, settling in comfortably, feeling totally at home. "Did you have a good day, Teresinha?" He asked, letting His holy breath swirl about her, and she shuddered at His power. "I hope so. We had a beautiful day outside, too. I hope you had a chance to enjoy the sun."
"I did, Lord," she admitted without hesitation. "After I completed all the tasks you gave me, of course."
"But of course," He noted, casting His great eyes upon her grease-stained outfit, and the finely toned body it only barely hid. "You look like you worked very hard. Your muscles must be very sore."
She smiled up at His great face. "They are a bit, my Lord," she agreed, for she knew what He intended. Without any further prompting, she stretched out within his palm, sprawling unabashedly, such that her arms dangled through the gaps between His fingers. With head turned sideways against the middle of his ring finger, she closed her eyes and relaxed.
"Well, let's see what we can do about that," He replied, taking a few massive strides through the room, crossing in moments what would've taken her many long minutes to navigate. He settled down in His favorite chair, leaned back, and began to massage her gently.
Teresa sighed with pleasure at His wondrous touch. He petted her for several minutes, gradually increasing the pressure, until she was moaning and gasping with the intensity of the massage. She became aroused, as she usually did, and He responded by moving His fingers appropriately, stimulating her all the more. She felt no embarrassment at this, for her body was His to command. If He wished to play with her thus, well, who was she, a mere human, to argue? Not that there was anything whatsoever to complain about, of course, but even if there was, she would never resist. He could do whatever He wanted to her, for after all, He was God.
Some time later He finished His work, and Teresa sighed happily in His firm grip, exhausted and quite satisfied. Long ago, when alive, she frequently gave up her body to men, who mistreated and hurt her, or pleasured themselves at her expense, without a thought to her own feelings. Here, in the Hand of God, she was complete. Those mighty fingers cared nothing for themselves, only for her. He was God, and He was good. So very, very good.
"Now that you're relaxed, Teresinha," He said after a moment, "I have some good news for you. If you're not already asleep, that is."
She turned slightly sideways and gazed up at His mighty face, smiling with complete happiness. "I am not asleep, Lord," she called out, wondering, as she often had, how He was even able to hear her tiny voice.
"I think I've solved the problem at last," He explained, absently adjusting his glasses with His free hand, as he always did when discussing his mysterious work that made no sense whatsoever to her. "I think I know how to reverse the effects. What's amazing is that it's so simple, I should've thought of it long before now. Because I felt like it would never work, I just never let my mind go down that road."
"I'm glad you're happy, Lord," said Teresa, not even bothering to ask for more information. Whenever He tried to discuss the technical nature of what He was doing in His strange laboratory, the words sounded foreign and alien to her. Perhaps that was because He would switch his speech to English, a language she barely knew, as if He didn't have words in her native Portuguese for those strange terms. Why God would have problems with languages, well, that was something Teresa never quite understood, but she was sure He had His reasons. No doubt the attempt to relate such holy concepts was simply overwhelming to her feeble human mind, so her brain resolved the problem the only way it could.
"Well," said the Lord, "I am happy, in a way. It means I can fulfill a promise I made a long time ago, to someone I once greatly wronged. On the other hand, it's going to have a significant impact on you."
"On me?" Teresa opened her eyes a bit more, studying His kindly face, with all those black-and-white whiskers amidst the faint wrinkles of emerging middle age. He did seem unusually concerned with something today, almost sad, as if possessed with a strange melancholy that was totally unlike Him. The Lord often fretted, and paced about, muttering as He worked on His projects. Sometimes He would show anger or frustration as well, another sign of how well He had made humans in His image. Yet He was rarely sad, especially when He held her in His hands and called her Teresinha, "little Teresa," in that gentle, loving way.
"Yes, on you," He went on. "You see, if I'm right, I'll be finally able to reverse what I did when you fell out that window. I'll be able to give you your life back."
"My life?" Teresa's eyes widened. "My Lord, what are you saying? That I will be--that you will resurrect me somehow?"
"Yes, Teresinha," He replied, and the sadness was quite evident on His face. "I will restore you. Don't you want that? To be normal again? To not be so tiny? You could walk around outside, and see your family..."
"Lord, have I displeased you?" Teresa sat up in His hand, gazing at His soulful eyes. "Have I failed you? Why are you sending me away?"
"I'm not sending you away," He told her, voice assuming a fatherly tone. "I'm sorry, Teresinha, sometimes I forget you haven't accepted the truth of what I did to you. I know you don't understand, and you think I'm God...you know that drives me crazy."
"Sorry, Lord," she apologized, bowing her head submissively. "You're right, I don't understand. Why must you send me away? I only want to please you."
"I know, I know, you've done everything you could, everything I ever asked of you. You haven't displeased me at all, my little Teresa, but let me try one more time to explain." He stood, causing her to involuntarily hunker down in the folds of His palm as He strode through His palatial dwelling. Once He stopped, she sat up again, now with a bird's eye view of all His strange machines.
"All of this," He told her, "is because of you. Well, not just you, but another, someone else like yourself who's your size because of me. All the work I've done has been to correct that mistake. With you, I made you as you are to save your life--and I don't regret it, not one bit. But with her, I did it on purpose, out of spite, and my own selfishness. I swore I'd fix it one day, and now, I think at last I will. And I can fix you, too. No one will have to call you Teresinha any more. Just Teresa."
"But Lord," she called out, "I don't want that! I want to be yours forever! I want to live in Heaven with you!"
He sighed and slumped His broad shoulders. "This isn't Heaven," He insisted. "This is Hell, only you just don't know it."
"No!" she complained, feeling a tear run down her cheek, but not bothering to wipe it away. "It's not! I won't believe that. Please, Lord, don't send me away. Please!"
"I know you think you want this," He replied with the patience of the Infinite, "but that's only because you don't know what's really been done to you. If you did, you'd understand who and what I am, and how terrible and horrible my inventions can be. I'm not going to show you, though. Don't worry, I'm not going to put you through that nightmare."
"You can't be terrible," Teresa went on, weeping openly now. "You aren't! You're the most beautiful, amazing, wondrous God there ever could be!"
"I only wish that were true," He replied, shaking His head sadly. "Now, then, my Teresinha, let's not speak of this any further. I have more work to do, and you can help me like you always have. Tomorrow will be another day, all right?"
"Y-yes, Lord," she replied, sliding off his hand as he let her down on the tabletop. With a sniffle she wiped away the tears, resolving then and there to work harder, as hard as she could, so that maybe, just maybe, He would change His mind. She wanted nothing more than to be with Him, forever and always.
But such was not to be.
With a start, she awoke.
Teresa blinked and looked around, trying to focus. Her vision was fuzzy, probably because the light was so bright. Her nose was filled with the pleasant scent of flowers, wafting along in the warm spring breeze. That was when she knew, without a doubt, that she was outside.
She sat up fearfully, looking around, vision and brain both still fuzzy. "Lord?" she called out weakly, almost choking, for her throat was dry. "Lord, where are you?"
There was no answer. She got to her feet, wobbling back and forth. The wind swept over her, and she shivered. Had He taken her outside, into the vast glory of Heaven, and simply left her there, without a word?
She thought slowly back to their last conversation. He was trying to tell her how the strange device in His hands worked, and how it somehow reversed what He'd done to her. She was trying to think of another way to explain how she didn't want to change, how she liked being His servant, and then He held up a strange device and threw a single switch. The last thing she remembered was that sad, forlorn look on His face, and those final words.
"Goodbye, Teresinha," He had said. Then there was a kind of flash, and a feeling of weightlessness, and now...
Now, she was outside. Her vision was already clearing, and her legs were stabilizing on their own. She was amidst a garden, standing on a path that led to a small house that looked strangely familiar...
With a start, and a shock that went up her spine, she recognized where she was. She hadn't seen this place for a long time. Not since she fled her home in her youth, to run off to the city with a man now long forgotten. A mistake she'd often longed to rectify, if only she knew how.
The door opened and a short, portly woman stepped out. "Did I hear someone--" she started, only to drop her washcloth in shock. "T-Teresa?" she started. "Oh, great God above, is it really you?"
"Mother?" Teresa managed, almost choking again, and not because of her dry throat this time. "Yes, yes, it's really me!"
The woman rushed forward, taking her daughter in her arms. "Teresa, my Teresa, I thought I'd never see you again! Oh, God, thank you, thank you for bringing her back to me!"
Teresa smiled and hugged her mother tightly. "Yes," she agreed, gazing up at the cloud-flecked sky, tears falling freely from her eyes. "Yes, thank you, God. Thank you for everything."
A short distance away, hidden just behind a shed, amidst a few tall weeds and a broken mailbox, a man stood watching. Not a god at all, but just a man, despite Teresa's misguided beliefs to the contrary. He, too, had tears on his cheeks as he watched his former assistant and her mother reunited for the first time in over ten years. After all, he couldn't very well just return Teresa to the streets, to those criminals who would've killed her--and who very nearly did, had he not been walking past as she fell. Walking, as he always did, with that terrible device under his coat, the weapon he'd sworn never again to use, but in that particular case had no choice. Since then, he'd done his best to make her happy, to keep her comfortable, and shelter her from a world far too big for her, and though saying goodbye was painful, he knew in his heart it was necessary.
He could've kept her, of course. He could've let her stay with him, as his servant and pet, for him to take care of, and that was all she would've ever wanted. But that was wrong. She thought of him as God, but nothing could be further from the truth. To keep her would've led down the certain path towards megalomania, and that was something he couldn't allow himself to do. No, he had to let her go.
Now, watching quietly from the distance, he realized he was right. Seeing Teresa normal-sized again, and with a second chance in life...well, perhaps that would make all his blood and tears worthwhile.
With a smile, the ex-god named Howard Taylor turned away and climbed into his rickety old two-seat car, starting the long trip down the mountainside towards the airport. There was nothing more for him to do here, after all.
Now he just had one final promise to keep.