fiction, stories, Uncategorized, writing

A Time to Reflect

The waves are peaceful. Much more than the chaos I have left behind me. Since this was my first time traveling outside of that city it was a lot to take in. I had read of many adventures throughout the books I have read and memorized in that library. 

The rest of the assassins readied the small ship that will carry us across the sea to another land. The sounds of the deep blue water clapping together caused another vision of him to come to mind.

The two of us were older. We lay on the golden beach listening to the waves crash as if we were the only two alive. Our fingers were interwoven with the other. The constant golden cobra was slithering against the other palm. Its smooth scales felt so welcoming.

Just as Alía told me, my power is growing since I murdered, no assassinated those people. Under Regina Indía’s tutelage, I will finally be able to take control of these visions.

fiction, stories, writing

Prophecy of Fire I

Disclaimer:

This work of fiction is based some time in the future of America. It is a chaotic universe that will become apocalyptic. There is no ill-will towards religion or government. It emphasizes “extreme” religion and not the faith in general.

Calm before the Storm

            Humanity is in chaos. Religion against religion and country against country. This world is dying with its people. How did we survive this long? The race of man has become addicted to money and greed behind the disguise of leadership. This has been the way for centuries, so why has this world come to such a climax?

            After another long day of working, I sat down dramatically on my cheap sofa bed. Even if this was a very cheap studio, I was free to live the way I wish. There are no parents telling me what to believe in anymore. It’s just me and my fluffy white cat Rose. Her purrs always calm me from the chaotic world outside. The once thriving and safe streets have gone to a nightly chaos. In retaliation, the government has decided to declare martial law in all the major cities including this one.

            Those of us able to work normal jobs such as mine are escorted from our home and back. It always makes me nervous every time I’m walking with the local soldiers. They are meant to keep me safe, but I cannot help but worry about their finding out my personal beliefs. The current President is an extremist Christian and has made Christianity our official religion. Since I am no longer in that faith I wonder if other religions will become illegal one day. It may sound impossible, but my gut feelings have always been correct.

Shaking these thoughts away I lay back petting Rose’s soft fur. “One day Rose,” I told her. “One day we will be able to leave this city and live in peace. I know it.” I nodded off laying my head on one of the fuzzy throw pillows.

I was staring in shock at the bright light in the distance. It began as a mushroom cloud and quickly spread throughout the city destroying everything and everyone in its path. I thought that I was dead when it came towards and through me. The extreme burning sensation was almost unbearable. My breathing was heavy and I felt my human body melt off of my muscles and bones.

I wasn’t dead. I had become something much more than human. I am alive.

fiction, stories, writing

A Brother’s Lament

Disclaimer

This story along with the others in this small series of stories is purely fiction. It is not meant to go against anyone’s belief in the Gospel. This is my own personal belief in the form of fiction and the “supernatural” parts are more -so true to life than they are in the Bible. It is another telling of what happened in the view of the so-called “villain.” My personal belief is inspired by the lost gospels of Judas, Barnabus, Mary Magdalene, and the belief that Jesus was a prophet and not the son of the Hebrew/Christian God as told in the Quran. 

The Story

“Judas, please reconsider. If we get caught I will be losing three sons, a daughter, and myself,” my mother pleaded.

“I have to mother, Yeshua and I look similar and even more so after Peter had me beaten. I explained. “You three need to get him out of here. He is the one they follow after all. They need something to rely on in dark times. Hope. I can give them that.”

“Judas, are you sure about this?” James asked. 

“They already took my wife. When she died I felt a great anger flow through my veins. That has temporarily gone away but I fear the return and what I would do with that information. I already feel dirty for being the one to betray him.”

We finally arrived at the cell my brother was being held at. There were guards everywhere, but there was one spot that was vacant. It seemed as if the soldiers standing there had fallen asleep for some reason. The four of us looked at each other as we walked through the doors. My brother was sitting on the ground holding his legs.

“You came,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I knew you would.”

“Yesh,” I ran to him instinctively and hugged him. Tears would not stop flowing. He held me back as tight as he could.

“How… How did you know about Peter? And about…”

“It seems Yahweh has favor with you, Judas,” he said softly. 

“Yahweh? Why would he? You are his chosen prophet.”

“He spoke to me while I prayed once before we came to Jerusalem. He told me that the visions you have must come true. That Peter would kill your wife, afterward deny me, and that you will come for me after everything is done,” he frowned with tears in his eyes. “I believe you know what else he told me.”

“I have to,” I said softly, hugging him as tightly as I could. “I promised when you were born that I would always protect you. This means that I must take your place. There is no spell that can truly bring the dead back to life. At least, none that I am able to do. You are the only one with that power Yesh. We have to give our people hope and something to believe in. You have to come back and claim to be resurrected. They can claim all they want that I killed myself with that blood money. I do not care as long as you are safe.”

“Judas… Yeshua…” James said softly with tears. He and our mother were keeping watch, while my sister-in-law held her husband up kissing his cheek. 

“Yeshua, we need to go. You know the sleeping spell will not last,” she said softly.

“Go, I will die instead. I am ready,” I kissed my brother one last time on the forehead as we replaced the chains on him onto my own wrists.

“I love you Judas. May we cross paths again one day,” Yeshua said. I did not know what he meant by this but it made me feel warm inside. I was truly ready and I have done my task to protect him no matter what the cost. 

“I love you too Yeshy. I always will.”

 Before they left, our mother kissed me and embraced me. She may not have been blood but later, when I was left dying on the cross in front of everyone on that hill, she would weep for me next to James as if she were my blood. Visions came to me one last time while I hung on the wooden cross. A life very different from this one. No, many different lives. Was there more to the soul than one life? It had always been a possibility. Instead of pain, these visions gave me hope. I would live again and one day make up for any bad thing that I had done in this life or another. Perhaps this was the turning point. A way to save me as well as so many others who could fall to darkness so easily. Perhaps this life could save more. I hung my head and closed my eyes as I felt an inner peace at knowing my brother could live on.

So concludes the tale of the brother of Yeshua who gave his life to protect the ones he loved.

fiction, stories, writing

A Brother’s Lament: The Hanging

Disclaimer

This story along with the others in this small series of stories is purely fiction. It is not meant to go against anyone’s belief in the Gospel. This is my own personal belief in the form of fiction and the “supernatural” parts are more -so true to life than they are in the Bible. It is another telling of what happened in the view of the so-called “villain.” My personal belief is inspired by the lost gospels of Judas, Barnabas, Mary Madeleine, and the belief that Jesus was a prophet and not the son of the Hebrew/Christian God.

The Story

I hated this. Why could it not be me that had to suffer? Or was it me who suffered the most? I went to the high priests and yelled at them to try and reconsider hurting him. All they did was laugh in my face. As if Peter or anyone else would understand. I would not be surprised if James had been dragged into his little fold. I sat on the edge and cried hearing them beat him and make him sound like a criminal. All we wanted was peace. Peace among our people and theirs. What if I…

“Betrayer!” I heard Peter’s voice from behind me. This scene felt all too familiar. It… was that nightmare I had. The one before we came into Jerusalem. The angry fisherman stood there as I turned to him. He had a noose in his hand along with my wife, Prima, being held by another Apostle. I had begged her not to come with us after that nightmare but, as she always did, she refused. Anger began to build in my gut.

“Let her go, Peter,” I said angrily.

“No,” the drunk spat. “You will pay for what you did to Yeshua.”

“I only did what he asked me to do!” I yelled. “What about you? Have you forsaken his name yet? You should be the one called betrayer.”

He glared at me and ordered the others to grab me. They beat me in tune with the beating my precious brother was getting from the guards. I saw James look from Peter to me not knowing what to do. “James, run. Run to mother,” I ordered weakly. Thankfully, I saw him run as I asked him to do. I could not let him see both of his elder brothers beaten like this. 

“Judas!” I heard Prima yell. “Please! Stop this! Let him go!”

“Let him go?” Peter seethed. “Why should I let someone who betrayed Yeshua go? He is the one who brought the guards. He is the one who kissed him as a mark of death.”

“He did what he had to. Please, just…” 

“Quiet Prima,” I said hoarsely after spitting out some blood. “Peter, do what you want with me, but let her go,”

“I do not think so. You will not get a swift death. I will make you suffer. Starting with her,” The other apostles grabbed me and tore my clothes off of my body. I was beginning to mimic what they had forced Yeshua into. Only rags to cover my bloodied and beaten body. Since the two of us had always looked similar one could not tell us part. 

They took us to a sturdy tree and threw the satchel of silver that I had obtained onto the ground. They forced me to kneel while looking up.

“First, I will make everyone believe that you were the coward everyone says you are. At the same time, I will make you watch.” 

If I had thought Peter was insane and evil before, I was wrong. He had no soul for a man who was trying to win over my brother. He forced a rag in my mouth stopping me from any kind of speech. It was still night time but I could see by the stars and the full moon what they were doing. They dressed my beloved wife in my clothes and strung her by the neck as if she were a doll that belonged to one of our daughters. When it was set they dropped her from a higher branch and her neck snapped like a fragile twig. I tried and tried to yell but nothing but muffle came from my voice. All I could do was cry. I was losing everyone I loved in one night. I felt a dark part of me awaken. Something sinister telling me I needed to get revenge. That I was strong enough to break from this hold and make them all pay.  

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves!” A stern feminine voice came from the side breaking me out of this fit of rage. I turned to see my stepmother Mary, my sister-in-law Mary Magdalen, and James looking horrified at the now corpse of my beloved wife, Prima. The voice came from my mother. She walked up and slapped Peter.

“Do you believe that my son would want you to do this? Do you even believe in him?” She asked. My brothers’ mother could be scary when she wanted to be. Imagine how it was raising us. 

Peter shook in my mother’s grasp. “N…no… I do not know him. I was simply teaching his follower a lesson.”

James and my heads looked up at this. You will deny that you know me three times before the rooster rows. Perhaps I was not the only one who had prophetic powers.

“Peter,” my sister-in-law said angrily. “After all that my husband had done for you, you would deny him?”

“I… do not know what you are talking about, woman.”

Two. I looked over the horizon where the light was beginning to peek. Soon a rooster would crow. This time, James went up to him. He was there when our brother said Peter would deny him. Neither of us believed it would be like this. 

“Peter, you do not know Yeshua like we do. Do you truly believe Judas would do what he did if Yeshua did not know as well? How can you even call yourself an Apostle? Do you know Judas and my brother at all?” He was angry like I was. He knew that if I could not get to him, he would.

“N…no, I do not know him.” He said this defeat and the rest of the apostles stood astonished. Both Marys came to my aid as I fell into their arms. A rooster called in the city below. All who were there at the supper stared at Peter. He cried as the two women and James led me down the hill. I was shaking with tears. So much loss. My wife, my brother… My brother. I stopped the women before they took me to where they were staying. 

“Wait, there is something I must do.”

fiction, stories, writing

A Brother’s Lament: The Last Supper

Disclaimer

This story along with the others in this small series of stories is purely fiction. It is not meant to go against anyone’s belief in the Gospel. This is my own personal belief in the form of fiction and the “supernatural” parts are more -so true to life than they are in the Bible. It is another telling of what happened in the view of the so-called “villain.” My personal belief is inspired by the lost gospels of Judas, Barnabas, Mary Madeleine, and the belief that Jesus was a prophet and not the son of the Hebrew/Christian God.

The Story

I felt ill. Sick to my stomach. Why did my brother insist that we go through this farce of a supper? He was the one who asked me to fulfill this ill-fated prophecy instead of running out of Jerusalem like I had suggested. He insisted that my betrayal would be the only way he would not be killed on the spot. What if taking the silver pieces is what brings the horrific fate that I saw? I did remember the fisherman claiming I was a betrayer. That, in itself, is what makes me think that the future I saw coming true is what is truly to come? What was the point in seeing the future when you cannot change it? 

I was quiet while the rest of the Apostles drank their fill of wine. My brother loved the trick he used at the wedding three years ago so much that he used it more than once. It was a simple transformation spell, but it saved our group so much money on wine. He was always the one who was gifted with the natural magic of this world. I was only gifted in prophesying the future. 

“Judas, what is wrong?” James asked. He had always been the youngest of the group and the younger brother of Yeshua and myself. We never told any of the others that any of us were true or even half siblings because we wanted us to be more evened out. 

“Nothing, enjoy the meal,” I said with a sad smile. I made a pact to protect both of my little brothers. John was no different. He did not even know about the horrible visions that plagued my dreams.

“How can I enjoy it when I can tell something is wrong with both of my elder brothers?” he asked in a more hushed tone. The boy was always gifted with knowing what others were feeling. 

I just gave him a smile while Yesh gathered everyone together. So, this is how you spark everything Yesh? Yeshua went in explaining a strange analogy about the wine representing his blood and the bread representing his body. As always, my brother was all for the theatrics. He glanced at me with sad eyes. “…and now, the one who dips his bread after mine will betray me.”

I felt as if I was going to empty the little food I ingested. Did he have to bring about that I would “betray” him? Was this his way of making sure the prophecy happened the way that I saw? He dipped his bread into my favorite dip to make things even worse for me. I sighed following suit. 

The room gasped and I felt Peter grab me from behind and slam me against the wall.

“How dare you?” He glared, he looked like he was about to swing his strong arm into my gut before my brother stopped him.

“He is not the only one guilty before the night is done. You will deny that you know me three times before the rooster rows. Do not make this last night that we have together filled with violence. Let him go, Peter.” The entire room shivered at how calm my brother could sound even faced with danger. I knelt down with shaking hands and held my brother’s. 

“Please Yeshy… do not make me do this…” I pleaded. I could feel tears wanting to poke its way out of my eyes. I just wanted to take him and run.

“Go,” he said softly with his eyes not meeting my own. “Please do what needs to be done.”

A few hours passed and I did what was needed to get done. The soldiers in tow, we made our way into the garden of Gethsemane. I told them that the man I would kiss on the cheek was the man they wanted. The idiots put in charge of my brother had fallen asleep. John, Peter, and even my baby brother James was resting while my brother sat there calmly with his eyes closed. I frowned and hugged him. “Please do not make me do this brother,” I whispered. When I heard him say nothing I knew I had to act. Otherwise, the soldiers would attack us all. I kissed his cheek softly. 

“Judas,” he asked calmly, fighting back tears I knew were coming. “Must… you betray me with a kiss?”

I held onto him in tears before the guards forced me off of him. While all this was happening, I could see Peter wake up and in a rage grabbed a sword from one of the guard’s ear off before trying to approach me with the blade. 

“Put the sword down Peter,” Yeshua said sternly. He raised his hand to heal the ear before they took him away. Before Peter could rage at me when he was gone, I ran after them. Now that his task was done it was time for me to find a way to save him. I would not let my little brother I had sworn to protect die like this.