Lincoln in the Bardo

Fruit responsive to one’s wishing: only let the mind drift in the direction of a certain color (silver, say) and shape (star) and, of the instant, a bounty of star-shaped silver fruits would sag the limbs of a tree that seconds before had stood fruitless and winter-dead.

roger bevins iii The paths between our mounds, the spaces beneath trees, the seats of the benches, the crooks and limbs of the trees themselves (in short, every available inch of space) became spontaneously filled, then overfilled, with food of every variety: in pots and upon fine plates; on spits run between boughs; in golden troughs; in diamond tureens; in tiny emerald saucebowls.

the reverend everly thomas A wall of water rushed in from the north, then divided itself with military precision into dozens of sub-streams, such that each stone home and sick-mound soon had its own dedicated tributary; the water in these tributaries then rather flamboyantly converting itself into coffee, wine, whiskey, and back into water again.

hans vollman All of these things, we knew (the fruited trees, the sweet breeze, the endless food, the magical streams), comprised merely the advance guard, so to speak, of what was coming.

the reverend everly thomas Of who was coming.

hans vollman

Sent by them to exert a softening effect.

the reverend everly thomas We steeled ourselves accordingly.

hans vollman It was best to roll into a ball, cover the ears, close the eyes, mash the face into the earth, thereby plugging the nose.

roger bevins iii Strength now, all! shouted Mr. Vollman.

the reverend everly thomas And they were upon us.

hans vollman





XXIX.

They entered in lengthy procession.

hans vollman

Each of us apprehending them in a different guise.

the reverend everly thomas Young girls in summer dresses, brown-skinned and jolly, hair unbound, weaving strands of grass into bracelets, giggling as they passed: country girls, joyful and gay.

Like me.

Like I had been.

mrs. abigail blass

A swarm of beautiful young brides arrayed in thinnish things, silk collars fluttering.

hans vollman

Angels, attentive to strangely corporeal wings, one large wing per woman, that, upon retraction, became a pale flag, tightly furled, running down the spine.

the reverend everly thomas Hundreds of exact copies of Gilbert, my first (my only!) lover. As he had looked on our best afternoon in the carriage house, gray horse-towel wrapped carelessly about his waist.

roger bevins iii

My girls. Cathryn, Maribeth, Alice. Multiple duplicates of each, going along hand in hand, hair up in Trenton braids, each wearing her last-Easter dress and holding a single sunflower.



jane ellis

A greeting Party of SHARD-lasses (Arrayed in the crude Smocks they Favor’d, falling off their Shoulders in deliberate Sluttiness) didst come forth to Grovel before me; but I had seen and Defeated their Ilk many times Before, & did now leave a generous Brown Turd for their Gift, and Retreated me Home, to await their Departure.

lieutenant cecil stone The brides moved stealthily, like hunters, seeking for any sign of weakness.

hans vollman

Where is my dear Reverend? the lead angel called, her voice redolent of the fragile glass bells we had always rung upon Easter Sunday.

the reverend everly thomas One of the multiple Gilberts came over and, kneeling beside me, asked, would I kindly unstop my ears and just please look at him?

Something in his voice made it impossible to disobey.

He was beautiful beyond measure.

Come with us, he whispered. Here it is all savagery and delusion. You are of finer stuff. Come with us, all is forgiven.

We know what you did, said a second Gilbert. It is all right.

I did not do it, I said. It is not complete.

It is, the first Gilbert said.

I may yet reverse it, I said.

Dear boy, said the second.

Soften, soften, said a third.

You are a wave that has crashed upon the shore, said a fourth.

Kindly don’t bother, I said. I have heard all of this—

Let me tell you something, said the second Gilbert harshly. You are not lying on any floor, in any kitchen. Are you? Look around, fool. You delude yourself. It is complete. You have completed it.

We say these things to speed you along, said the first.

roger bevins iii

One of the country girls was Miranda Debb! Sitting there real as dirt beside me, as of yore, legs crossed under the faded yellow skirt she used to favor. Only she seemed so big now, compared to me, like a regular giant!

You are in a tough spot, sweet Abigail, aren’t you? she said. Often, upon waking, you find yourself short several items, don’t you? Come on, come with us, we’re here to set you free. Look at our arms, our legs, our smiles. Are we liars? Who look so healthy? And who’ve known you so long? Do you remember hiding of a summer day in the hayrick? Your mother calling for you? Digging in then, delighted to be hiding?

It is that times one million where we will take you, said another, who I now recognized as none other than my dear bridesmaid Cynthia Hoynton!

mrs. abigail blass

Eddie, ain’t that f—–ing Queenie? my Betsy says to me.

George Saunders's books