Kenton Barr: Lot: Or the righteous man's guide to incest

Lot's wife raced over. Dealt another slap. This one harder. This one drew blood.

“Mother!” shouted the Youngest. The elder daughter stared sullenly, making no effort to hide the tears which streamed down her face.

“You'll not blaspheme against your own family. You've no idea how very special our line is. No idea. Now get yourself decent. Now! We have a task before us.”

“What task, mother?” asked the younger one, meekly.

“We will drink of a ceremonial wine to prepare,” said Lot's wife sternly. “Both of you will taste it. You won't like it. But it will do wonders for you.”

“Really, mother?”

“Yes. I feel the Lord's presence before me.”

“Do you?”

“I do. Oh, yes. I do. It is a holy day. Can you not see it, all around? The very stars-the stars are upon us.”

Lot listened to all at their door. Like a good father, he turned away as his young daughters stripped off their night garments and pulled on more appropriate clothing. Lot's wife watched the pair, saw their flesh, fully ripened into womanhood. Oh, they should marry soon. Soon.

It wasn't right that daughters like this should live in a small house with their father.

The four assembled at the table near the hearth fire. Lot had lit it. His wife began the preparations for a great meal, taking the leavings from her aborted evening with Lot, adding a few more delicacies she'd somehow squirreled away. Oh, yes. She was always ready for another visit by Abraham.

“Come now, wife!” said Lot, interrupting her preparations. “We must drink to the spirit. We must be ready to celebrate the day.”

“Yes, husband,” she said, eagerly coming forward to drink from the cup. Their youngest daughter waited, eagerly, as Lot recited his prayers. The Eldest still eyed their mother warily.

Lot's voice droned into a musical hum. The words were almost incomprehensible. A moaning, almost. Lot's wife swirled her head to the rhythm of her husband. The Youngest looked on in awe. The Eldest remained unmoved.

“Now,” said Lot, finishing. “We drink!”

The four grabbed their glasses, the wife draining hers, the daughters waiting to see whether they should sip their wine, or guzzle it like the barbarians at the shop. Following their father's lead, they gulped the alcohol down, Eldest merrily offering a harrumph on completion, as the barbarian Sodomites did.

Lot waited to gauge the effect of the drink on them. His own cup hadn't contained the same liquid. They'd never know.

“And how do you feel, wife?” he asked after a minute. She'd gone again with the preparations for their meal.

“Fine, Lot.”

“Do you think this is a special day?”

“A very special one. I feel the stars inside me. A mass of color. A very special day. Don't you agree, children?”

Two daughters looked at their mother, puzzled. They'd no answer, yet. The wine took longer for its effects to be felt, Lot knew. 10-15 minutes. At least. He couldn't leave them yet. The picture must still be framed. If only there was enough time. Why had it taken them so long to rise? Why-horrible wife! Constantly defying him. Horrible.

“I see it too, Mother,” said their Youngest, meekly. “Yes. A blaze of colors. Can you not, sister?”

The Eldest looked at her mother sullenly.

“Can you not, sister?” repeated the Youngest.

“I see… something,” said the Eldest, her gaze now shifting from mother to father. “Something I'd never seen before.

“What is it, Sister? Do you have a vision?”

“A… vision. Perhaps. Father, have you seen it?”

“I've seen many visions this day. I have a vision of something coming through that door. A special guest.

“What kind of guest?” asked the three.

“An angel from heaven. Come to rescue us from this forsaken place.”

“Forsaken.”

“Forsaken.”

“Forsaken!”

“Yes, my family. A forsaken place. God will punish it. He will not, though, punish us. For we are righteous.”

“Of the line of Abraham!” said his wife, stumbling now in the kitchen. Lot moved to her. There was no real need of food, anyway.

“Yes, wife. Righteous. Of the line of Abraham. But step away now. Let the vision take hold of you. All three of you, gather together. Let us wait at the table. It shouldn't be long now.”

Lot escorted his stumbling spouse back. Next to him, his oldest daughter, feeling the heat, loosened the top of her robes. Lot thought of rebuking her. Did she not know there would be angels? How appropriate was it?

But to strike might spoil the effects of the wine. He watched as she unfastened one button after another of the sabbath top she wore. A very different garment, unbuttoned. Lot saw the swell of flesh, coming now free into the air.

“Are you hot, my child?” he asked.

“Very, father. I feel as though there are flames all around me.”

“Well then. Have another cup of the wine. It should cool you. This heat can be infectious.”

Lot poured a drink for her, and then her sister. And then his wife. The family toasted once more the angels to come.

Lot waited again. Now his Youngest felt the heat about. Seeing her sister's action, the little one imitated. She too unfastened. Lot felt an odd stirring. So strange.

“I will see what's keeping them,” he said.

Outside, Lot once again blessed his luck. His vagrant had found a friend. The two shared in drink. They were sloppy. Horribly so.

The perfect test.

“Can you walk? You angels?” he asked, kicking at the first. No reply from the pair, save giggles.

“Walk? Come, there is more wine.”

“We need no wine,” moaned one. “Too-too much wine. Good wine. Better than this-swill.

“There is better wine inside,” said Lot. “Come. I know you have the energy. Would you not like a meal? A bath. A chance to visit my daughters?”

The duo mumbled something. Lot raised the pair to their feet. The stink of the second was even worse than the first. The smells mingled in the air, a fermented stink of shit and decay.

Angels.

Two cups of wine. Three for his wife.

“Come,” Lot repeated. And the pair glumly shambled along with Lot, pausing once more to drink from his gifted bottles.

Inside the house, Lot was greeted with a shock. His daughters had continued their unfastening in his absence.

“Father!” shouted the Eldest, rushing forward and pressing her bare breasts against him. “You were gone so long. Did you-have you-are they?” She turned to look at their new guests.

“Are these?”

“Yes, my child.”

“These-”

“YES, my child. These are the angels.

Lot's daughter paused for a moment, the fabric of her dress falling down, exposing her thighs and buttocks. Lot saw the breasts heave. She whispered something.

“What, my child?” he asked gently.

“I said, angels. Angels! Sister. Come. Come look. Are they not beautiful?” She moved to embrace them. Behind, the Youngest came racing out, completely nude. Lot could not recall how developed she'd gotten. When was this one born? When did the heaving breasts emerge? When had she learned to caress a man like that?

He moved quickly, pulling his daughters off the urchins. A bit of force was required. Lot sent his two daughters sprawling to the other side of the room, where they collapsed in a tangle.

“No, my children. They are creatures of God.”

“They are certainly creatures,” said the Eldest. Her face flushed. Lot saw, dimly, the hands of one sister on the breasts of another in a corner. Instinctively, the Eldest began to paw, delicately, at the flesh of her junior. Their faces came together, with the Youngest treating her sister to a kiss. Behind him, the first stirrings of the two urchins could be heard.