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 Bearing Witness

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Join date : 2011-06-30
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PostSubject: Bearing Witness   Mon Jul 04, 2011 5:40 pm

I originally wrote this, oh... years and years ago. June of 2004 to be exact. It's something I've been meaning to come back to off and on, and I do have several additional tales in my head for this series, just never got around to putting them down on paper (or screen). I should probably state right now that this story is merely an introduction, and each addtional chapter would not necessarily be in chronological order; nor should they be taken as a whole, but rather stories onto themselves. In other words, this is an attempt to link a series of story ideas I had by containing a central theme.

Okay then. May I present to you, quite possibly for the first time, Bearing Witness.

Quote :
I miss my sisters.

What else can I say? Never has a day gone by in which I did not think of them, and how I wish I could be by their sides once again. My sweet Mary, the games we would play! And Martha... ever straight and to the point. To each of them, I dedicate this, the workings of my life, and the tales I shall share with you. All my thoughts, my prayers, go out to you.

There is another who had a great role in my life, but for him I shall not speak kindly, for he had robbed me of something precious, something I shall never be able to witness again; Heaven, and the peace it provided. My sisters dwell there now, playing, singing... all the while he watches and waits.

Damn you, Jesus! We were friends! At long last, I had found my salvation, only to have it ripped away. Am I do be happy? Do you, in all your glory, wish for me to sing praises? Never again! I have roamed this world for two thousand years, and have seen the best of men, and the evils that they create. I have seen my sisters grow old and die, and the same with their children and grandchildren... and I have hated you for every death I bore witness to, cursed you for every year after you brought me back to life.

Life?! What kind of life is this you have gifted me?


Very well then, from the beginning.


"Lazarus," whispered a far away voice. "Lazarus, we bring you news from your Lord most high."

I looked around, to seek the one who called to me, but could not see. Everywhere I turned, a soft light filtered through. I could catch glimpses of figures moving, but none seemed to be directed towards me.

"Fear not Lazarus, for you are within the realms of Heaven."

Rejoice! For days I have suffered an illness that my sisters could not cure. Coughing gouts of blood, my fevorish dreams... perhaps that was it. I inhaled deeply, deeper than I have ever breathed.

And I didn't cough.

The voice laughed. "Oh, yes, Lazarus. You are not dreaming. Can you not feel it? Free from your burden, free from your sickness? Your body has gone, but you have gone beyond, and come home."

I feel to my knees, tears rolling down my cheeks. At last, I new what peace was, everlasting... beautiful! I looked once more towards the figures I saw earlier, and noticed upon acceptance, that the figures themselves were the ones creating the light. Men danced with women, children running about, everyone smiling and singing, no worries within their eyes! Oh, and how their eyes shown! I rose to my feet, to be a part of this grand enjoyment...

"Lazarus," the voice whispered once again. "We bring you news from your Lord."

"Yes," I spoke. "Oh, yes! Tell me that which the Lord has sent you, so that I may join your hosts!"

"No, Lazarus, it shall not be. The Lord has a grand purpose for you, as She does with all Her children."


"Tell me, then, what the Lord wishes for me to do, so that I may serve Her and take my place by Her side."

The voices grew quieter, the light dimmer. I could feel my body... feel?... coming back to me.

"The Messiah calls for your return."

Jesus? But surely Jesus, of all people, knew what lay before me? Of what reasons would he draw me back?

"You must bear witness, and record all you see, and when all shall be revealed, Jesus shall come once again, and take you with him once more."

"Wait!" I cried out. I stretched my arms, to grab hold of something, anything... "I don't understand! Why me?"


"Why me?!"





And so I have walked this world, and saw all there was to see. I saw the death and rise of my friend, though he did not bring me peace. I followed him to the New World, when he took the name of Itzamna, and preached there, yet he still did not take me with him to the beyond.

I lived, while all those around me died. They died, in his name, yet I lived. I suffered through Inquisitions. I survived gas chambers. I cried out "Jesus! Jesus!" along with all the rest from history, and I watched their eyes lift to heaven, and smile as their souls escaped torture...

Why me? Why must I be made to suffer more?

Is it because no matter how much I hate you, how much I loath you, that I still believe? Oh Jesus, my friend... save me from this life!

But it is here, and now, that I remember what I must do...

I am Lazarus of Bethany, and the accounts before you are all I witnessed. But be warned... though they are many, each tale is important... and each tale will lead you to the end of my writings.

It is like what the angelic hosts told me...

"You must bear witness, and record all that you see, and when all shall be revealed, Jesus shall come once again, and take you with him once more."
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PostSubject: Re: Bearing Witness   Wed Dec 12, 2012 10:18 pm


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