The miracle worker knelt, and held his hands in front of him, splayed and whitened. Scowling, bright eyes closed, heart clamoring, he muttered, and then the miracle came. It was a little plant. The heavy countertop creaked and split, and a little dark soil drifted up through the crack, pushed by the eruption of stem and leaf beneath. Those who watched marveled and wept and sang and prayed. It grew until it was three feet high, enormous, not radiant, but graceful: a prayer plant. The sun shone on the floorboards and the air was fresh.
"But wait," She said as he made to leave. "What should I do?"
"Be blessed," said the miracle worker.
"But there's a plant in my kitchen. Is it okay if I move it later?"
He smiled broadly. "No, silly," he said. "This is your miracle."
"But I can't really use that," she said, a little weakly.
"Not everybody gets a miracle," he said.
To give yourself leprosy, put your hand under your clothes. To turn a stick into a snake, throw it on the ground. To bring water out of a stone, hit it with the stick. To part the water, raise the stick. To make the water pure, throw a tree in it. To bring water out of a different rock, sing to it, or you're in trouble. Never do the wrong miracle.
To bring a fairy back to life, clap your hands. To grow a plant on the kitchen counter, spread your bony knuckles. To heal a vending machine, kick it smartly at its base. To heal a blind man, make him splash himself with water. To heal a deaf man, stick your fingers in his ears. To heal a dead man, speak with authority. To raise yourself from death?
"Miracles are not necessarily convenient," he said.
The miracle worker sat up straight, slowly, and all the people were aghast, and afraid, and they ran this way and that. And he looked at them, alive again, with the hole in his side and damp grass in his hair, and he pointed at them with his long pale finger, and spoke his judgement. And the sinners and killers fell dead and damned in domino droves, and so he had his revenge. Or maybe he was so good that he forgave them, and healed them of their sin, and raised them up along with him to heaven.
Christine, Dreaming