posted on Apr, 24 2006 @ 07:43 PM
I wrote this short story a couple years ago. I recently stumbled upon it and thought it would be a good piece to share with others. Let me know your
thoughts on the potential of this short story
---Thank you-----
The After Math
The sun was slowly descending towards the earth. The sky was covered in bloody clouds that hung above for all to see. The day was filled with pain,
torment and anguish. For on this very day a man was taken into custody. The crowd roared in anticipation of what was to come. They would bare
witness to a decision that would alter the world’s life forever. The crowd looked upon a golden brown building. A holding place for all the cities
evil has ever witnessed. Men from all around found inhabitance in its hell-like walls. The criminals’ of the past and the present, wasting their
putrid lives away. In the top level of the building, a great man of council starred down at his people. Pilot was a man everyone feared and
respected. It was him and him alone that would free or condemn a man’s life.
***
Four guards of the prison kept watch over a man praying in a prison cell. The guards were playing a cheap betting game to see who would keep his
clothes. One guard kept a close watch on the man. He was intrigued. Who was he praying to? Did he actually think it would help save him? The cell
was utterly filthy. Rats would scurry along the walls; it was cold, dark and smelt of death. The man in the cell was kneeling. He had severe cuts
all over his fragile body that had small streams of red fluid trailing to the floor. The soldiers had beaten him severely, almost to death. The man
wore a white cloth (which was stained red) around his broken body he called himself Jesus.
***
Father,
I am here praying to you. I ask for strength. I’m frightened of what will happen to me. I know you have a plan, Father. I have full trust in
you. I have no doubts in your plan, but in myself. This cell smells awful and my body is broken. All the guards call me the King of the Jews. I
need your strength Father. I take your love in my heart, and your strength in my veins.
Thank-you Father
Amen
***
The cell door slammed open, Jesus didn’t move an inch. Calling him the King of the Jews, they placed a crown of thorns on his head. Drops of
blood trickled down his face. The guards ripped off his clothing, only to leave him with a small piece of cloth to cover himself. He then was forced
to walk down a dark corridor, to find himself in front of a large crowd. Pilot then walked out of the building after Jesus.
“I ask all of you, should I condemn this man to death…This Jesus of Nazareth? asked Pilot. The crowd roared in agreement. They wanted this man
dead. Pilot couldn’t understand why.
“I have questioned this man, this Jesus. I have found no reason to crucify this man. I will have no part in his death”, exclaimed Pilot.
With this he took the thorns off of Jesus’ head and walked away. The crowd screamed with anger. In a single moment on person amongst thousands,
picked up a stone, threw it at Jesus hitting him in the chest. One after another stones began to fly threw the air, each one striking Jesus on his
bare skin. Jesus felt his mind fall. His body collapsed to the cold ground. Feeling they were justified, the crowd began to disperse. The guards
had already fled when the stones were being thrown. So there Jesus lay alone in the cold, he didn’t move, he didn’t take a breath.
Time passed, the moon rose triumphantly into the midnight sky. There Jesus still laid. Suddenly he felt a cool cloth on his aching forehead, a hand
on his bloody back. He slowly opened his eyes to see his mother looking back at him. Everyone had gone, Mary had waited for the opportune moment to
save her son. Mary helped him up. She took him far away from this place. She went to find a home where they could live in peace.
***
December 25, 1900, Two centuries had passed. In the middle of an old abandoned house, a small child sat im complete darkness. The only light
visible was the abundant number of fires out on the streets. The child grasped an old photograph of his parents, it was the only light this little
boy had in a world filled with darkness. A light, that with time and age would vanish, along with his hope of survival. The boy has sandy blond
hair that because of the heat clung to his face. He wore old tattered, filthy clothes that barely covered his tiny body. The child would not dare
venture outside, for even though he was starving, all alone and scared, going outside would be his last moment of life. The world is now a horrible
place, filled with ugly horrific creatures that walk to earth. Each different monster would kill at the mere sight of human flesh. The ruler of the
underworld, Satan himself, now walks amongst us. He rules and out of fear everyone follows. Mankind has no hope; they feel no love or joy. There is
no light to lead them home, only pitch black shadows that overturn the world. The only emotion mankind feels is fear, the fear of life after death.
Where would they go? The only place known to them is the place of the underworld, an eternal hell in which they shall remain forever.