into the church—I always do. I’m afraid that I’ll have to work very hard this time to see that the rules I set up a long time ago aren’t set aside, that the Bible is not forgotten.
Chapter Seventeen: Jesus
I waken in the darkness of the silent night to find his arm thrown protectively over me. I know he only wants to keep me safe from harm, his face burrowed against my shoulder, our bodies warm together. I was so tired last night, so very tired. Once I had drawn Judas away from Lucifer and his people, seeing no point in fighting with them—to what purpose, as it is ordained—we returned to the tent, the others already asleep, scattered upon the floor in their bedrolls, my mother of course in her own partitioned area, apart from ours, for the sake of her privacy. He insisted on fussing over me until at last I consented to sleep, refusing to leave my side, although we didn’t get a chance to speak. It was too late for words—late as in the lateness of the hour, I mean. And I’m not sure what I would have said, how to explain myself to him.
How warm he feels, how very comfortable. The moonlight that filters through the windows of the tent allows me a glimpse of his handsome face, thankfully in repose, his normally furrowed brow at peace. He worries too much for his own good, Judas does, worries about me. I really wish he wouldn’t. Yet how much I do love him for it. And I would not disturb him for the world, if I did not have to. But someone is waiting for me, and I must go. And where I’m going, I’d prefer he not follow, not right now. I must handle this myself. So it is written.
Gently, carefully, I remove that strong arm, wishing I did not have to do so, wishing I could simply lie where I am, and pretend the rest of the world does not exist. That it’s simply he and I, living our lives…together…
Such a futile thought that is. I push it resolutely away—at least for now—and rise to do what I must do, without so much as a backward glance. For if I turned and saw him there, I might not have the strength to go.
The rising breeze chills me, as I pad softly across the grass, my bare feet absorbing the moisture of the dew. I shiver, pull my robes more tightly about me, but I cannot say it’s strictly from the cold as much as it is for the loss of warmth, which is not the same thing. His warmth, of course. My Judas…my…
I’m pulled abruptly from my thoughts as the chill verdure beneath my toes is exchanged for grains of heated sand, the moon’s soft glow for a blazing desert sun, shining mercilessly over the bare landscape about me, even as I think to myself what an incredible exhibitionist he is and always has been. I shade my eyes against the sudden brilliance, searching for that which I know I will find, desirous of getting this over with, to return to my…sleep. And that’s all I’m willing to admit to, even to myself. At least at this very moment.
“You came.” A simple statement, not a question, as he appears beside me, making his typical grand entrance, elegant wings outspread so widely that for a moment his form obliterates that of the sun. He lands gracefully upon the burning desert sand and furls his feathers once more. The Lightbringer. The Morningstar.
Lucifer. A rose by any other name. “And alone…I am most flattered…”
“Don’t be,” I rejoin, “This is my battle and mine alone, I’ll bring no one else into it.”
He gives me a most enigmatic look even as with one wave of his arm he manifests an oasis about us, a palm tree-shaded haven amid the illusory desert heat, in the midst of which a crystal clear pond gurgles beckoningly. I ignore it, divining his intention, and determined to have none of it. Do your best…or your worst…I have not nor shall I ever give in to you, no matter what you say, or how hard you try. I have the courage of my convictions, and my belief in my Father to sustain me, and there is nothing you can do to persuade me to join in your
Chapter Seventeen: Jesus
I waken in the darkness of the silent night to find his arm thrown protectively over me. I know he only wants to keep me safe from harm, his face burrowed against my shoulder, our bodies warm together. I was so tired last night, so very tired. Once I had drawn Judas away from Lucifer and his people, seeing no point in fighting with them—to what purpose, as it is ordained—we returned to the tent, the others already asleep, scattered upon the floor in their bedrolls, my mother of course in her own partitioned area, apart from ours, for the sake of her privacy. He insisted on fussing over me until at last I consented to sleep, refusing to leave my side, although we didn’t get a chance to speak. It was too late for words—late as in the lateness of the hour, I mean. And I’m not sure what I would have said, how to explain myself to him.
How warm he feels, how very comfortable. The moonlight that filters through the windows of the tent allows me a glimpse of his handsome face, thankfully in repose, his normally furrowed brow at peace. He worries too much for his own good, Judas does, worries about me. I really wish he wouldn’t. Yet how much I do love him for it. And I would not disturb him for the world, if I did not have to. But someone is waiting for me, and I must go. And where I’m going, I’d prefer he not follow, not right now. I must handle this myself. So it is written.
Gently, carefully, I remove that strong arm, wishing I did not have to do so, wishing I could simply lie where I am, and pretend the rest of the world does not exist. That it’s simply he and I, living our lives…together…
Such a futile thought that is. I push it resolutely away—at least for now—and rise to do what I must do, without so much as a backward glance. For if I turned and saw him there, I might not have the strength to go.
The rising breeze chills me, as I pad softly across the grass, my bare feet absorbing the moisture of the dew. I shiver, pull my robes more tightly about me, but I cannot say it’s strictly from the cold as much as it is for the loss of warmth, which is not the same thing. His warmth, of course. My Judas…my…
I’m pulled abruptly from my thoughts as the chill verdure beneath my toes is exchanged for grains of heated sand, the moon’s soft glow for a blazing desert sun, shining mercilessly over the bare landscape about me, even as I think to myself what an incredible exhibitionist he is and always has been. I shade my eyes against the sudden brilliance, searching for that which I know I will find, desirous of getting this over with, to return to my…sleep. And that’s all I’m willing to admit to, even to myself. At least at this very moment.
“You came.” A simple statement, not a question, as he appears beside me, making his typical grand entrance, elegant wings outspread so widely that for a moment his form obliterates that of the sun. He lands gracefully upon the burning desert sand and furls his feathers once more. The Lightbringer. The Morningstar.
Lucifer. A rose by any other name. “And alone…I am most flattered…”
“Don’t be,” I rejoin, “This is my battle and mine alone, I’ll bring no one else into it.”
He gives me a most enigmatic look even as with one wave of his arm he manifests an oasis about us, a palm tree-shaded haven amid the illusory desert heat, in the midst of which a crystal clear pond gurgles beckoningly. I ignore it, divining his intention, and determined to have none of it. Do your best…or your worst…I have not nor shall I ever give in to you, no matter what you say, or how hard you try. I have the courage of my convictions, and my belief in my Father to sustain me, and there is nothing you can do to persuade me to join in your
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