First cuming (part v)

Just to be clear, I hate this story. But you’re making me do this.

I take no responsibility for the things I write.

John laid a dead boar, which he strangled with his hands, next to the fire. Him and Alyssa were lost. Their canoe was destroyed in some rapids and they were camping for the night by the river’s edge.

Their clothes were drying by the fire. While Alyssa was smart enough to pack a change of clothes, John was forced to wear a loincloth while he cut up the boar. Alyssa tried not to stare at his huge ballsack.

“Care for some boar?” he asked.

“No thank you. I’m a vegetarian.”

“That’s Liberal poppycock,” he said. “Man was meant to senselessly kill animals.”

Ignoring the comment, Alyssa noticed a scar near John’s abdomen. “How did you get that?” she asked.

“Vietnam,” he replied, “I got stabbed there behind a whorehouse 10 years ago.”

“What about the scar on your thigh?”

“Botched circumcision.”

John started tearing into the boar’s leg with his teeth. Blood was dripping down his chin, past his neck, and onto his man chest. Alyssa tried to keep her passions at bay. She had never before witnessed such a specimen of manliness.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked him.

“Hmm,” John pondered. “I think so. I was in an arranged marriage while I was in a Satanic cult. But I haven’t had sex…with a woman…since then.”

“Do you ever want to get married?”

John read between the lines and started to smile. “Well,” he began, “I haven’t found a woman that can handle me yet.”

Alyssa chuckled. “I’m glad that I’m lost in the wilderness with you,” she said.

Moments later, the two heard a faint sound of a banjo. Alyssa was slightly unnerved. “Relax,” John said, “nothing out here can hurt us.”

The sound continued to get louder.

Before they could respond, three men with shotguns stood outside of their camp. They were rednecks, hillbillies. They wore no sleeves and their teeth were rotting out of their faces.

“Hey there, that’s a pretty girl you got,” one of them said.

“Don’t touch her,” John said.

“It’s not her we want,” another said as he walked up to John. “We just want a slice of that meat.”

John reached for his Bowie knife, but the first redneck lowered his gun. “Don’t think about it,” the man told him. The second man grabbed Alyssa then he tied her to a tree with a belt around her neck.

The ugliest redneck ordered John to stand up. “Now gimme that meat,” he said.

John’s back was turn towards Alyssa. The ugly man dropped to his knees then ripped away his loincloth. John’s buttcheeks were exposed to everyone. The two other men were cackling uncontrollably with their shotguns aimed at a helpless Alyssa.

She could see the ugly redneck’s face while he was on his knees. He had a look of surprise. But before he could react, John grabbed his head and put his mouth up to his crotch. The man began to gurgle.

“Now wait a minute,” one of the his buddies began to yell.

John turned around, swinging the ugly redneck with him. He was choking the man…with his penis down his throat.

“Let the girl go!” John yelled.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” another replied.

Finally the redneck turned blue and John let him fall to the ground. Before the other rednecks could get off a shot, a buck naked John grabbed the dead man’s shotgun. When he fired, a redneck’s brains were splattered all over Alyssa’s face.

The last surviving redneck began to panic. He missed John completely with his erratic shooting. As he lost sight of the naked man, he dropped to the ground.

“I got your girl man!” the redneck yelled. But John snuck up behind him with his Bowie knife.

“Drop the gun,” John ordered. The man complied and began to uncontrollably piss himself.

“I’m sorry,” the redneck said weeping.

“Only God forgives,” John replied. Then he slit his throat.

Blood once again splattered all over Alyssa’s face.

After untying Alyssa from the tree, John dragged the three bodies into the river. “I swear, my penis wasn’t erect when it was in that man’s mouth,” he told her.

Alyssa was shaking from all the excitement. A still naked, blood soaked John kneeled in front of her and took her hands. “I’m sorry you had to see all of that,” he said.

“I’ve never seen something like that,” she replied.

“A man’s head get blown clean off?”

“No, your gargantuan p-p…”

“Penis? Yes, it’s 14 inches. Girth of about 5. Or 5.27 inches to be precise. Doctors said that I would never achieve a full erection. It takes too much blood flow. That’s why I don’t have a girlfriend. Oh the burdens I carry with such power.”

John stood up and grabbed a bag of trail mix. “Care for some nuts?” he asked.

Alyssa ran up to John and wrapped her arms around him. “Stay with me tonight,” she said, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Alright,” he replied as he munched on some cashews, “but it’s supposed to be cold tonight. To keep warm, we must sleep completely nude under a sleeping bag.”

Alyssa nodded and stripped off her clothes. It was the first time she was ever naked in front of a man. Meanwhile, John continued to shovel cashews into his mouth.

Alyssa climbed into the sleeping bag and John followed after. They laid together cheek to cheek…ass cheek to ass cheek that is…and she enjoyed the warmth emanating from his body.

“John, I got to tell you,” Alyssa said, “I’ve waited my entire life to meet a man like you. I know we’re not married, but I want you to take me. Take me here. Please.”

A loud fart bellowed from underneath the sleeping bag. John was fast asleep. Disappointed, Alyssa continued to lay there, wishing…

…wishing to feel his arms around her.

TO BE CONTINUED….

the 1st coming (part iii)

Look, I’m trying to get to the good stuff (all the nasty sex). But I’m trying to get there organically, alright? Give me a break.

At the campfire, Geoff was playing Nearer, My God, To Thee on his acoustic guitar.

“Maybe you should put that away,” Alyssa told him.

Nine church goers were attending the camping trip in total. Brother Ted walked back to the camp after reliving himself in the river. “Woo! That water’s cold!” he declared.

He sat down at the edge of the fire and took out his Bible. “Being in nature reminds me of the awesome power of God,” Ted said. “But 1 John tells us to hate the world and everything in it. All of it will be destroyed in the Second Coming. None of this matters.” He then grabbed a trash bag and dumped its contents on the ground.

Alyssa tried to get close to John, but it appeared that she had competition. Sister Becky was close to Alyssa’s age. She was the touchy-feely type, laughed at every joke…even when a joke wasn’t being told. Most men responded to her flirty nature, but John was different. Alyssa tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“When I returned from Iraq, I successfully underwent conversion therapy,” John told Becky, “I haven’t had those kinds of feelings in nearly 2 years.”

“You’re such a brave man,” Becky responded as she gently touched his arm. Alyssa typically wasn’t the jealous type, but Becky was really trying her.

Everyone began roasting marshmallows and hotdogs but John took out a pork shoulder. He could have easily pulled back the plastic film covering it but used his Bowie knife instead.

“Shouldn’t you cook that before you eat it?” Brother Ted asked. “Nonsense,” John replied as he tore into the meat with his teeth, “God gave our bodies everything we need to digest raw pork.”

***

Alyssa woke up in the middle of the night to relieve herself. She walked a few yards from the camp and squatted behind a tree. While peeing, she heard painful grunts coming a few feet away.

“Who’s there?” she whispered into the dark. But All she heard was more grunting.

When she finished, Alyssa stood up and began wondering towards the direction of the sound. Behind another tree was John, pants around his ankles, squatting in agonizing pain.

“Are you okay?!” she asked him.

“I feel like my guts exploded!” John replied. He was blasting out one fart after another.

“I’ll go get help!”

“No!” John exclaimed, “I can’t let them see me like this! You gotta help me!”

“What can I do?”

“Just stay here with me.”

Alyssa knelt down beside John and held his hand. He started expelling an ungodly amount of diarrhea out of his anus. The stench was almost unbearable. When he finished, he looked up to her with his bloodshot, watery eyes.

“Thank you,” John said. Alyssa gave him a smile.

Afterwards, he stood up and washed his fecal-covered buttcrack in the river. When he finished, he walked back to Alyssa. As he took her by the hand, he said to her, “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

She nodded in return.

The two went back to their tents. As Alyssa climbed into her sleeping bag, she thought about John and thanked God for giving her such an intimate moment with him.

The next morning, groups were pairing up for the canoe trip. Becky approached John to row down river with her. He paused and scratched his forehead. “Uhh, actually I was planning to go with Alyssa,” he told her.

Becky stood up straight. “Alyssa? Really? But I assure you that I’m a much better rower than her,” she said.

“Good! That’s why you should go with Geoff.”

As Geoff was putting on his life jacket, John grabbed him and paired him with Becky. “Good luck!” he told him, and paddled off with his sister.

“Geoff’s not gonna like that,” Alyssa said, “he’s the jealous type.”

“Sorry, but I figured that I owe you an explanation for last night,” John replied.

“None’s necessary, John. You see, I get the bubble guts too.”

“I don’t think you understand,” he said. “I have IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So you understand why I hope we can keep this a secret.”

“But why John? Why?”

“Because…,” he gave a long pause, “I was laughed at as a child. Everyone called me Mr.Poopypants. I couldn’t walk 10 feet without poop running down the back of my legs. I had to tape up the bottom of my jeans to prevent turds from slipping out and everyday my pants would fill up with poopoo.”

Tears began to well up in John’s eyes. “Everyone thinks that I’m some kind of hero,” he continued, “but in my own mind, I’m always gonna be Mr. Poopypants.”

With his back against her, Alyssa wrapped her arms around John’s body and placed her head just below his neck. “You’re not Mr. Poopypants to me, John. Your secret is safe. But maybe you should stop eating raw pork.”

John placed his left hand top of Alyssa’s that was resting on his chest. “I’m glad I’ve finally met someone like you,” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

The first coming (part II)

For the record, I feel disgusted for writing this.

Enjoy.

Meeting John was a welcome distraction for Alyssa. She managed to get close to him for a brief, fleeting moment. As she introduced herself, John held her hand firmly yet gently while their eyes locked. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alyssa,” he said.

Her heart fluttered.

That night, Alyssa treated herself to a bath. She prayed and thanked God for bringing John into her life. She needed something else to think about other than her parents, who were probably being waterboarded in some cold North Korean dungeon at that very moment. While laying in the warm water, Alyssa let her mind wander.

As she thought about John, she began exploring herself, starting with her bosom on down to her excitable parts below. Though almost 30, Alyssa had only been with one other man…a premarital mistake she hoped would never happen again. She was saving herself; saving herself for a man like John.

She was both relaxed yet enraptured by thoughts of John moving up and down her body with his large, steady hands. As she was nearing climax, Geoff slid in through the bathroom door.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, “I’m just grabbing my toothbrush.”

Startled, Alyssa sat up in the bathtub and covered herself. “Geoff!” she screamed, “do you mind?!”

“What’s the big deal?” he asked. “I’ve definitely seen a naked woman before. No need to sneak a peek of my sister in the bath.”

“Get out!”

“Were you masturbating?” Geoff asked. “You know that the Bible says we shouldn’t spill our seed.”

“I don’t have ‘seed’ you dolt!”

“Well God says we shouldn’t take pleasures in the body. So you better get out of the tub and get to bed. And never mind my erection. It’s a side effect of my blood pressure medication.”

“I’m a grown woman Geoff. You don’t have to tell me what to do.”

Geoff sighed and scratched his forehead. “Look Alyssa,” he said, “before mom and dad went to North Korea, they wanted me to look after you until God provided you with a husband. I’m sorry if I come across as a little protective. I hope you understand.”

“I do understand,” Alyssa said as she wrapped herself in a towel, “but I’m fine. We’re both grown adults. God will release mom and dad soon. I know He will. I know that none of this has been easy for you.”

“Indeed it hasn’t,” Geoff replied, then he extended out his arms. “Hug?”

“No. I’m good.”

***

Alyssa attended Wednesday Bible study in hopes that John would be there. She arrived 30 minutes early to help set up chairs and tables. As she took her seat, Brother Ted laid his hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

She gave him a faint smile then opened her Bible. As the clock struck 7pm, Brother Ted began the study. “Please turn to Mark chapter 4,” he said.

John was nowhere to be found.

Alyssa’s heart started to sink. Although she was ashamed to admit it, she began to regret coming to the meeting. Then, as Brother Ted was reading through the passage, a handsome figure walked through the door.

“Sorry I’m late,” John said, “a madman hijacked a school bus and threatened to kill everyone on board. So I had to storm the bus and strangle the man with my barehands in front of all of the children.”

“Amen Brother John,” Ted said, “glad you could make it.”

Alyssa breathed a sigh of relief and blushed a little when he gave her a glance. Brother Ted read Mark 4:30-32:

Again he said, “What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds can perch in its shade,” Brother Ted read. “What does this passage mean to you?”

The room was silent for a few moments before John raised his hand. “What it means to me,” he began, “is that even though individually we are unimportant, collectively, if we are fruitful and multiply, we are powerful.”

The room nodded in agreement.

“Additionally,” John continued, “this is why it’s essential to preserve your seed. The more we waste, the less we can spread. That’s why I’m saving mine. So that one day I can plant mine into a fertile garden and have many offspring.”

He then looked over to Alyssa, who quickly looked away. But she knew. She knew right then that John was a part of God’s plan for her. As the study dragged on, Alyssa prayed for God to give her the strength to approach him.

When the study concluded, Alyssa started gathering her belongings. Then she heard a voice behind her. “Alyssa, right?” it asked. She turned around and there was John towering over her.

She nervously chuckled. “Yes,” she said.

“I heard about your parents, maybe I could fly to North Korea, take out my Bowie knife, and cut out the hearts of every commie bastard over there,” John joked.

“I’m sure you could,” Alyssa smiled, but the thought of him slaughtering millions made her loins quiver.

“I know that this is a difficult time for you,” John said, “Last night I prayed for God to return your parents home safely. So I’m sure that God will magically drop that $10.8 million into your lap at any moment. Either that, or the United States will nuke that godforsaken country right off the map. God Bless President Donald Trump, the REAL elected President. But until then, to get your mind off things, I want to invite you to a camping trip next week that I’ve organized with the church. Brother Ted will be there. And you can invite Geoff.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Alyssa replied.

A warm smile came over John’s face. “I guess I’ll see you then,” he said. She returned the smile.

Alyssa slowly walked out to her vehicle. When she climbed in, she turned up the radio and screamed for joy.

TO BE CONTINUED…


‭‭

The First Coming (part I)

Alright, here’s the first chapter to my Christian erotica story.

Ain’t promising that it’s gonna be good

“Amen!” Geoff yelled. It sounded more like he yelled ammo. Her brother’s enthusiasm for Sunday service sometimes annoyed Alyssa Edwards.

The preacher, Brother Ted, addressed his parishioners. “Folks,” he said, “sometimes I wake up in a pool of my own sweat and pants soaked in urine. Could it be the side effects of medication that’s causing this? Or could it be my guilty conscience from all the nights I drove home blackout drunk and full of hydros?”

The pews echoed with amens.

“I think it is God’s way of telling me that I’m a sinner and that every morning I should wake up in absolute horror, get on my knees, and thank Him for not striking me down dead right then and there.”

“Amen! Amen!”

“Now folks,” Brother Ted continued, “sin’s a terrible thing. For every sin committed, we should have our skin flayed, eyes poked out, and toothpicks shoved up our pee holes. But there’s a way out. In John 14:6, Jesus says ‘I am the way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me’!”

“Amen! Amen!”

“So if you’ve ever had impure thoughts, touched yourself in impure ways, those are marks on your soul and you can’t enter the Kingdom of Heaven with any blemish! So wash yourself in the pure blood of Christ our Lord!”

The sermon was more fiery than usual from Brother Ted. Alyssa was moved by his words, but her mind was distracted by events on the other side of the world. When Brother Ted asked for any prayer requests, she stood up. “Yes,” Alyssa said, “please pray for my parents who underwent an ill advised missionary trip to North Korea. They have been taken captive and are being held ransom by the government. Please pray for their safety and for the Lord to provide us with the $10.8 million for their release.”

“Aaaaaaamen,” Brother Ted replied. “Let us all pray…”

***

After the sermon, the church congregation met for brunch. Alyssa was standing alone in her traditional Sunday clothes: a blue floral halter dress with a button up sweater. She typically didn’t like large gatherings, but her brother wanted her to socialize.

Brother Ted noticed Alyssa standing alone. He licked his fingers clean of cake, plate in hand, and proceeded towards her. “It’s good to see you again,” he said to her, “but church is the best place to be in a time like this.”

Brother Ted Kaczynski stood there with a wide grin on his face in his oversized suit. He was in his late forties, overweight, and sweated profusely. “It’s good to see everyone again,” Alyssa replied, “it’s been very difficult lately.”

“Sometimes the Lord tries us in ways we couldn’t possibly understand,” Brother Ted said, “like having our parents kidnapped and held ransom for an obscene amount of money that we couldn’t possibly pay in a thousand years. But God never gives us more than we can handle.”

“So true, Brother Ted.”

“The church may be able to help you with your ransom money,” Ted said as he reached out for Alyssa’s soft, small hand. “Please stop by my office anytime. As you know, men are persecuted in this country…particularly white, Christian men. So my wife left me over completely false domestic abuse allegations and I’ve been missing out on stimulating female conversation. Maybe we can work something out if you know what I mean.”

“Brother Ted,” Alyssa replied, “I don’t think it would be appropriate for a single man or woman to be alone in a room together. I’ll be sure to bring my brother Geoff along for these discussions.”

A look of disappointment came over Brother Ted’s face. “Right you are Ms. Edwards,” he said, “I look forward to speaking with you.”

Geoff waddled up to Alyssa in his khakis and pea green polo. “Is everything alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, “I’m just ready to go home.”

Geoff then poked his thick-rimmed bifocals up to his face. “But we haven’t heard the keynote speaker yet,” he replied.

Then she saw him.

He was standing aloof off to the other side of the room. He was about 6’2, muscles bulging through his black, ironed polo. He had the gelled, high and tight hair cut. One could easily get lost in his deep blue eyes. Alyssa tried to not gaze at his body for too long, but how could it be a sin to marvel at such a creation from God?

“Who is that man?” she asked Geoff.

“That’s the keynote speaker.”

Brother Ted stood up and called for everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we have a new member to our congregation. He is a decorated war veteran and he has an incredible story. Please welcome John Cannon.”

The room applauded and John addressed the room. “Thank you everyone,” he began. Alyssa was taken with his deep and magnetic voice. “Brother Ted wanted me to tell you about my experience in Iraq, and well…” John stammered for a bit. “There’s really not much to tell. As a former Satan worshiper, I knew the power of the devil. But I never knew the Grace of God. So while I was in the US Army Special Forces, our convoy was attacked. All of my comrades were killed and I was the lone survivor. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head. ‘God will provide’ it said. And there in front of me was a flame thrower, a grenade belt, and an M29 Light Machine Gun. So I single-handedly torched the attacking force, killing everyone involved, then marched to the closest village and raised it to the ground, killing men, women, and children. I thought I was going to be court martialed and tried for war crimes, but to avoid the media fallout from such a massacre, I was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about killing an entire Iraqi village, but through the Grace of God and salvation through Christ Jesus, all is forgiven. But my therapist tells me that it isn’t a miracle that I found a flame thrower, grenades, and a machine gun…that those things are standard equipment with the Special Forces. They want to deny the existence of God. They also tell me that I have acute ‘PTSD’ and undiagnosed schizophrenia…and I shouldn’t carry around a Glock 19…”

John then pulled out the Glock and began waving in front of the audience. “But they can’t tell me what to do. God gave us the 2nd Amendment. And if they want to take away that right, they’re gonna face the wrath of God…and this Glock 19!”

The congregation gave him a round of applause.

Alyssa knew right then and there.. She had to know this man.

The First Coming (preamble)

“Art thrives on limitations,” Nicholas Meyer once said.

Well this next story will put that theory to the test thanks to the limitations of its author: me.

Obviously I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for the past month. But the discovery of “Christian erotica” has awoken me from my creative slumber.

I have never written a romance story. I’ve never read one either. It’s not my thing, ya know? Plus, as a closet asexual, I don’t know what it’s like to have sex.

“But don’t you have children?” you might ask.

Sure. But I only have sex for procreation. I have never once enjoyed coming. After an orgasm, I express gratitude to my partner and we shake hands. So I’m going into this subject cold. Additionally, this will be a “Christian” story intended for a “Christian” audience.

“Why?” you might be asking. Well like I said: art thrives on limitations. But there’s another question I want to answer: can a Christian story…intended for a Christian audience…be good as opposed to absolute dogshit like most religious entertainment?

The Passion of the Christ was a decent movie from what I recall. But Mel Gibson is insane. Depictions of graphic violence is kinda his art. But like Mel Gibson, I am also insane and you have to be a little off your rocker to achieve a degree of artistic genius. I’m not saying that I’m a genius, of course. I’m just saying that I’m a clinically insane person and that’s why I’m doing this.

From my understanding, “Christian erotica” typically requires the story to revolve around a married couple. But that’s gross. So I’m gonna try to push the boundaries a little by centering it on a single woman and her desire for premarital sex with a particular man.

And that’s as far as I’ve gotten with the story. I’ll be winging it from there.

Now, some of you might have noticed that my last few stories have been somewhat “Christian”-based: According to Simon and whatever I called that one sci-fi story. But I assure you, I only pretend to be a Jehovah’s Witness online (I actually converted to Mormonism yesterday). So no worries 😉

I’ll have the opening chapter of the story posted the next time I take a shit at work.

TO BE CONTINUED…

according to Simon (part iii)

“What happened to your face?” Jacob asked as I met him at the Cyrene’s inn.

“I was attacked by one of Herod’s thugs,” I said. “They’re onto us. So watch who you talk to.”

“You didn’t tell him anything did you?”

“I told him I was a friend of Joseph’s. After that, he left me alone.”

“Shit,” Jacob said and rubbed his face. “Well good news is I met with Ananias and his wife Sapphira. Remember them?”

“The one’s from Rome?”

“Yeah. They sold some of their property in Judea. They gave the money to John to distribute to the widows outside of the city walls. It’s finally happening Simon!”

“Don’t let it get to your head!” I told him. “You still need to lie low.”

Just then a big burly fellow with six other men busted through the door. “Χαιρετίσματα Jacob,” the booming voice said.

“Hello Stephanos.”

“You’re Stephanos?!” I exclaimed.

Stephanos looked over to me and back over to Jacob. “Who’s dis?” the man asked in his Greek accent.

“Relax, he’s Simon,” Jacob replied. “He was a good friend of Yeshua’s.”

Stephanos looked me up and down. “I heard you were arrested,” he said to me.

“No, it must have been another Simon,” I replied. “I’m from Bethsaida.”

Stephanos was confused. He looked back to Jacob. “I was told that Ananias gave you money. Our women and children are starving too-“

“Now Stephanos,” Jacob interrupted, “I know where you’re going with this. But Ananias was very clear: he wanted us to use this money to help the widows of Jerusalem.”

“Because we’re Greeks we’re not as important as the Hebrews?”

“I didn’t say that. Please listen to me. I’m only respecting Ananias’ wishes.”

Stephanos was furious. “We’ve been in the streets for days while you Hebrews have been coward up in your homes! Do you support us or not?!”

“Of course I support you!” Jacob yelled then took a deep breath. “I get how you feel, Stephanos, I really do. But you gotta understand our situation. Herod and Pilate aren’t too concerned with the Greeks right now. But they are after us. We can’t be out in the streets and we don’t have the money to spread around to everyone. I’m sorry. But Ananias is a very successful man from Rome and a diaspora Jew just like yourself. If you go to him and explain your situation, he can probably provide you with some assistance.”

Stephanos stood silent for a moment then muttered something in Greek. He walked up to Jacob. “μη με σταυρώνεις,” he said. Then him and his six men left the room.

“You should’ve stayed away from him Jacob,” I said.

“I know.”

“And Stephanos is a convert. To Ananias, he’s still a Gentile. He’s not giving him the money.”

Jacob began rubbing his temples. “I need a drink,” he said.

We went down to the tavern where Levi was scribbling something down. “What are you doing?” Jacob asked him.

“The Greeks wanted something to tell the people back in the Decapolis. Something about Yeshua.”

I looked over the writing. He didn’t write much but it was all in Greek. I couldn’t understand a word of it. Jacob was puzzled. “Where did you learn to write Greek?”

“In school, here in Jerusalem” Levi replied, “I had to learn it along with Hebrew.”

“Maybe we should drop the subject of Greeks for the time being,” I said.

We sat silently drinking our wine for a few minutes. There was a commotion on the streets. Andrew came running up. “They’re about to stone some of the Greeks!” he screamed.

Jacob and Levi instantly got up. “Aren’t you coming along?” Jacob asked me. Against my better judgment, I put down the wine cup and followed them.

A few blocks away, a crowd was gathering. Some were shouting. Others gawked out of morbid curiosity. Moments later, Temple guards began dragging out seven Greeks. One of them was Stephanos.

Behind them followed a few members of the Sanhedrin, including Joseph. Standing beside him was Ananias.

“Thief! Thief!” Ananias shouted. “These men conspired with Yeshua to rob the Temple and overthrow the Romans!”

My heart began to sink. This was a setup.

The guards threw the Greeks in front of Herod’s black-cloaked mercenaries who had their spears ready. Meanwhile, the Roman guards stood back smiling at the whole affair.

A judge from the Sanhedrin stood among the crowd and faced the accused. “Conspiracy, sedition, robbery of Ananias,” the judge said, “are these accusations true?”

It didn’t matter what Stephanos said. And he knew it. From his knees, he laughed and looked at the crowd. “You stiff-necked people,” he said, “your hearts and ears are still uncircumcised. Was there ever a prophet your ancestors did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him—”

“God help you,” the judge said.

With those words, the mercenaries plunged their spears into the bellies of the Greeks. A pool of blood formed in the middle of the crowd.

Levi screamed in horror and ran away.

But the crowd was just getting warmed up. They picked up stones or any disposable object and began hurling them towards Stephanos. He got bruised and battered and knocked in the head a few times but kept crawling forward.

Among the mercenaries, I recognized a familiar face: The scars….the scabs…the wiry frame. It was him alright. It was the man that attacked me a few days earlier.

And Stephanos kept crawling towards this man as the stones were raining down on him. When he reached his feet, Stephanos grabbed the man’s cloak and got to his knees.

I was too far away to hear anything, but Stephanos was clearly saying something to this man. Judging by his face, the figure was stunned by what was being said. But before the figure could react, a member of the crowd smashed a rock into Stephanos’ skull.

The man in the black cloak stood back with blood and brain matter splattered all over his face. He was in a daze.

Before the crowd could mutilate the bodies, Joseph stepped in to quiet them. That’s enough!” he yelled. “The perpetrators of the Passover sedition have been caught and punished! This matter is closed! Please return to your homes!” As the crowds dispersed, the Temple guards started dragging the bodies outside of the city walls.

Jacob and I returned to the inn in silence. We didn’t know what to make of what just happened. “Do we leave Jerusalem?” Jacob asked.

“Why?” I replied. “It looks like Joseph and Ananias took care of our problem.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

according to Simon (part II)

“Simon saw Yeshua come back from the dead!” Andrew said.

“I didn’t see Yeshua!” I replied. “How did you get to be so stupid?”

Andrew and I were meeting with Jacob and Levi at the Cyrene’s tavern after returning to Jerusalem. “What did you see?” Levi asked me.

“Look,” I said, completely ignoring his question, “I only came back to Jerusalem to bring Jacob back to Galilee. I already got Yeshua killed, I can’t let the same thing happen to his brother.”

“I’m not going back,” Jacob said.

“Why not?”

“This might come as a surprise to you Simon, but people actually believe the Message. You thought the Romans could never be driven out of Judea, but everyone took notice of Yeshua. Including the Greeks!”

“The Greeks? We were only in Scythopolis for a few days. We barely spoke Greek!”

“Yeshua made quite an impression on them.”

“Yeah, they’re saying that he did all kind of shit,” Levi said, “healing the blind, casting out demons and sending them into pigs, making the lame walk…”

“Are you sure they’re not confusing him with one of the thousands of other lunatics that wonder around the Decapolis?”

“I’m telling ya Simon,” Jacob exclaimed, “these Greeks have some goddamned imagination. They think he’s some wandering miracle worker! There is some guy named Stephanos who followed us all the way from Scythopolis. He’s been screaming in the streets! He’s pissed about the crucifixion!”

“You guys didn’t talk to him, right?”

“Well…”

Right then, Mary walked into the tavern. She had the look of death on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Jacob asked.

“He’s gone.”

***

All of us ventured outside of the city walls to Joseph’s tomb near the Mount of Olives. The women were weeping. I walked inside the tomb and Yeshua’s body wasn’t there.

“The Greeks?” I asked Jacob.

“How would they have known where his body was?”

Joseph was stomping down the hill up ahead. I looked over to Jacob. “Let me handle this,” I said.

Joseph was only a few yards away when he started yelling. “You guys have been an epic pain in my ass!”

“Now Joseph, calm down,” I said. “I’m only here to collect Jacob and bring him back to Galilee. I swear. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“Like hell! All the Jews are gone but now the streets are crawling with Greeks! Ever since Passover ended, they’ve been piling into the city!”

“I know, but we have nothing to do with that.”

“Bullshit! This idiot here…” Joseph cried, referring to Jacob, “has been seen screaming on the streets with that lunatic Stephanos. And now all of you are grave robbing!”

I shook my head as I looked over to Jacob. “Joseph, we didn’t take Yeshua’s body. Mary came here this morning and it was gone. As for the Greeks, I don’t know what to tell you. We’ll leave Jerusalem and maybe this will all blow over in a few weeks.”

“Too late. They’ve been threatening the Sadducees and Pharisees because apparently, Yeshua was railing against them in Scythopolis! I know you were there Simon. So this IS your fault!”

Damn it, I thought. I looked over to Jacob. “This has gotten out of hand. We’re leaving.”

“If all of you are leaving, you better do it quick. The Sanhedrin wants this fire put out now! Herod is bringing in mercenaries from all over the empire. A few of them might be here now. You’re probably as good as dead,” Joseph said.

“Then that means you too,” I told him. “You’re as guilty as the rest of us.”

Jacob spoke up. “It doesn’t matter where we go. Do none of you see what’s going on here? The moment Yeshua spoke against the Romans and their collaborators, we had a target on our backs. We knew the risks. And we accepted them. Because look around you: lepers, beggars, widows, children sleeping on the streets. We can’t continue to live like this. Even the Greeks agree! Yes Yeshua is dead, but that doesn’t mean the Kingdom of God is dead too. We continue to fight for it or we die in the streets.”

Joseph was silent.

“It’s time for you to take a stand Joseph,” Jacob continued. “You’re either with us or you’re with Herod.”

Joseph looked down to the ground and thought for a moment. “I have no love for the Romans,” Joseph said, “but I want no more bloodshed. So I ask all of you: stay away from the Gentiles. They aren’t our problem. Let them take the fall for this Yeshua situation. If you can do this, I can keep the Sanhedrin off your scent.”

“But Joseph,” Jacob replied, “a lot of them are Jewish converts. We’re in this together.”

“Listen to me Jacob: stay away from them. And please, for the love of God, lay low!”

With those words, Joseph walked away. Jacob was beside himself. “What does he expect us to do?” he said to me, “we can’t just wish the Romans away!”

I put my hands on his shoulders to calm him down. “Jacob, he may be onto something,” I said. “Let’s face it: we don’t have the power to get the Romans out of Judea just yet. Our only choice is to play the long game. Alright? Now you might be safe in Jerusalem for the time being, but you’re gonna have to live to fight another day. Also, keep quiet about being Yeshua’s brother. Okay?”

Jacob nodded. “Are you going back to Galilee?” he asked.

I smiled. “No. I gotta keep you out of trouble,” I replied.

All of us went back into the city walls individually. As I was returning to the Cyrene’s tavern, a strange man in a black cloak pulled me into an alley and put a dagger to my throat.

“I got money in my satchel,” I said to him.

“I don’t want your money!” the man replied. He was a short, wiry figure with rashes and scabs all over his face. “I recognize you!”

“Well I don’t recognize you.”

“Don’t play with me! I saw you with that man in Caesarea.”

“What man?”

“Yeshua you fool!”

“Who?”

He punched me in the stomach and I fell to the ground. “Why are you in Jerusalem?” the figure asked.

“I’m just a fisherman. I’m here in town because of Passover. I’m leaving tomorrow, I swear!” I said as I was gasping for air.

“Liar!”

“Why would I lie about that?!”

He kicked me in the face and I fell flat on the ground. The man continued his interrogation.

“Who do you know here?”

I crawled back to my knees. “Joseph, alright! He’s from Arimathea! He’s on the Jerusalem Council!”

“Can you confirm that?”

“We can go talk to him now!”

The man put his dagger back into his cloak and he helped me off the ground. He also dusted me off. “I’m sorry about the confusion,” he said. “There’s a lot of insurrectionists around. They always cause trouble around Passover. Can never be too safe, ya know?”

I wiped the blood from my mouth. “Indeed.”

“Alright, well you take care now,” the man said.

He walked up to the edge of the alley, looked to his left and right, and disappeared back into the city streets.

TO BE CONTINUED…

according to simon (part I)

Time to shit or get off the pot.

I’ve had this story in my head for awhile and just now acted on it.

I originally wrote an introduction but then said fuck it. All you need to know is that this is historical fiction, perhaps my least favorite genre, but this blog is all about challenging myself as a writer. So I’m giving this a go.

Just imagine if you were some nobody that got caught up in an incident that you believed had little significance, but it was actually the most important event in all of Western Civilization. I want to explore how reality turns to myth. I guess that’s the impetus behind this story.

I dunno, we’ll see how this goes…

Ain’t promising nothing.

***

Jerusalem, Circa 30 CE

Roman Judea is under the governorship of Pontius Pilate. Yeshua from Galilee has amassed a small yet devoted number of followers as messianic fervor sweeps the region. After causing a ruckus at the Jerusalem Temple during Passover, Yeshua is tried and sentenced to death by crucifixion.

With their leader dead, the followers of Yeshua await their fates…

…one such follower, and childhood friend of Yeshua, is Simon, the fisherman of Bethesda…

Joseph (of Arimathea) knocked me on my ass. He continued to berate me as I laid out on the ground.

“Do you know how hard it was for me to not turn you over to the Romans?!” he screamed. “All of these young ones,” Joseph then pointed to Thomas, John, Andrew, Levi, Jacob, and Mary, “…you and that idiot friend of yours could have gotten them KILLED!”

I leaned up and wiped the blood from my lip. I couldn’t feel a thing. I was too drunk. “Don’t worry Joseph,” I said, “you’ll never see my face again.”

“You’re damn right I’ll never see your face again! You have until sun up to get out of Jerusalem. If you’re not gone by then, so help me God YOU’LL be crucified next!”

Jude spoke up. “What about Yeshua’s body? Surely you didn’t leave him at Golgotha. It’s the Passover.”

“Do you know what I had to do Jude?” Joseph asked. “I had to talk to Pilate. Yeah! Face to fucking face! Luckily for all of you, he barely remembered this morning’s fiasco so I was permitted to take him off the cross. As for the Sanhedrin…they’re PISSED and will probably be looking for you guys. Which is why you better get the fuck outta here!”

“Just tell me where he’s buried,” Jude replied.

“I’m not telling you!” Joseph said.

Levi spoke up. “Just tell him father.”

Joseph took a deep breath to cool himself. “Because my idiot son here was an admirer of Yeshua,” he said, “his body has been placed in my family tomb TEMPORARILY, at least until all of this shit blows over. Then I will remove his remains. Now: please leave the city.”

Joseph departed the tavern and took Levi with him. The rest of the group stood around aimlessly. Jacob helped me off the ground. “Do we go back to Galilee?” he asked.

“I sure as hell am!” I replied.

“But…what about…”

“What about what?!”

“The Kingdom of God?”

“The Kingdom of God? Jacob, your brother is DEAD! He’s not coming back! If you know what’s good for you, you will return to Galilee and kiss your mother and tell her how sorry you are for your older brother’s death.”

Jacob began to weep and I instantly regretted my words.

He was only a kid.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “this was all my fault. I shouldn’t have agreed to come to Jerusalem. All of this could have been avoided.”

“I can’t go back,” Jacob said. “I can’t face her.”

He told me that he was staying in Jerusalem. I didn’t know what else to say to him. So I patted him on the back and he departed the Cyrean’s tavern. I thought I’d ever see him again.

“I’m going to Damascus,” Jude said, “I’ve got some connections there. Maybe now just wasn’t the time. I….”

“Let it go Jude,” I interrupted.

“But Simon, maybe this was just the beginning of something big…perhaps the end for the Romans.”

I laughed. “Are we experiencing the same reality? We just got our asses handed to us. Do you really think we can bring down the Romans?”

“Why are you here?! Did you not see all of those followers in Capernaum? In Cana? In Caesarea?!”

“I was his friend, Jude. I knew all of this was getting to his head, but I said nothing. I let the rest of you talk him into coming to Jerusalem. I said nothing. I let him go to the temple. I knew what he was going to do. But I said nothing. Well now I’m telling YOU something: go back to Damascus or wherever you’re from, and forget all of this happened. And I will go back to Bethesda where I will regret for the rest of my life that I was never able to bring Yeshua’s body to his mother.”

“And what of the Romans? What will you do if they ever find out what you did here?”

I laughed again as I drank another cup of wine. “They don’t care enough about me,” I said, “but if they did ever find me, I will tell them to send me to Rome so that I can tell the Caesar to kiss my ass.”

Jude shook his head. “Goodbye Simon.”

“So long Jude!”

As I was filling the wine skins, Thomas approached me. “Should I go to Egypt?” he asked.

“The world is your oyster, Thomas,” I said, “I’m going home.”

The two of us embraced for the last time. I thanked the Cyrean for sheltering us then my brother Andrew and I left the tavern. Maybe it was the wine, but as we were leaving Jerusalem, I was seeing Yeshua’s face everywhere. The guilt was unbearable.

Andrew wasn’t at all affected by the day’s events. As we traveled the road back to Galilee under the cover of night, he was cackling. “Boy, Joseph licked you good,” he said.

Andrew was a simple man.

“That’s because he’s a member of the Sanhedrin,” I replied, “if they ever found out he provided aid and cover to us, they’ll stone him for sure.”

As we stopped along a creek bank for the night, I laid out my bed. As I walking away towards the tree line, Andrew asked where I was going.

“Gotta take a shit,” I said.

As I got out of earshot of him, I kneeled down behind a tree and vomited. I closed my eyes for a few moments. All I could envision was Yeshua’s smiling face. Then I wept uncontrollably.

Finally I stood up and walked back to the camp where I found Andrew picking his nose. “Boy I can’t wait get back to fishin,” he said.

I laid down on my bed, looking up to the sky. “We’re not going back to Bethesda,” I said. “We’re going back to Jerusalem.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

anouncement (and thoughts on writing)

Hate to toot my own horn but 2051: A Space Monstrosity turned out much better than I thought it would. I also wrote a lot more than I intended.

It’s not perfect. Far from it. And I blatantly ripped off lines from various Star Trek productions, almost verbatim, because I’m a shameless hack.

But I’m getting closer to being able to tell stories the way I want to: where I create a plot on the fly by establishing a rhythm and hitting the story beats. If you do a few setups and meet the payoffs in any ridiculous way you can, BAM…you have yourself a story.

Maybe not a GOOD story, but a story nonetheless.

My method is akin to Bill Walsh’s “West Coast Offense” in football: where players lack in athletic ability (or, in my case, artistic genius), you can make up for in precision and timing.

This runs entirely contrary to the way my high school teacher tried to teach me. It was his belief that that the secret to writing was in rewriting.

The problem I found with this practice is that my interest always waned and the magic was gone. Editing and proofreading is necessary of course, but frankly it’s boring and if I spend too much time on it, I end up hating everything about the piece itself.

It is my belief that art works best when it exists in the moment….when the artist can, however briefly, be completely honest with themselves.

So I’ve written a lot to get the practice in. And most of the stories are in fragmented pieces. Therefore I created a separate page to compile all these short stories.

…that is, once when I figure out how to get the page up on the website. Right now it looks like shit. I dunno 🤷‍♂️

I’ll get it figured out.

That is all.

2051: a space monstrosity (part ix)-conclusion

“Hey God, God Alliance, the Holy Divers…whatever the fuck you call yourselves…come get your boy!” I radioed to the new energy source on radar.

Yah jammed the transmission. “Captain, you have fucked me over for the last time,” he said over the intercom. “You will never escape me. I’ll chase you around the moons of Nibia and around the Antares Maelstrom and around perdition’s flames before I give you up!”

“Suck my limp dick!” I replied.

The energy source pursuing Yah was gaining on him. And with his final act, Yah tail whipped the rear of the Sagan, causing the ship to spin out of control.

“Fire the braking thrusters!” I ordered Valdez.

“Thrusters are having no effect!”

I radioed down to engineering. “Nia, more power to the brakes!”

“Sir,” she replied, “breaking thrusters were destroyed in the last hit! There’s a coolant leak in engineering. I’m diverting power to both the lift and main thrusters. That will stop the spinning, but we will be unable to stop in forward motion!”

“Captain, we’re hurdling towards a massive object ahead. 50,000km and closing,” Dr. Jackass said.

“Valdez! Give it some gas!” I yelled.

Valdez floored it. We were seconds away from crashing into a large meteor in front of us. The Sagan got caught in the object’s orbit and we spun around it a few times until we broke free.

The ship was now on a straight path, but we were still traveling at light speed. “We dodged that bullet,” The Doctor said, “but it’s only a matter of time before we collide with another object!”

I called back down to engineering. “Nia, can you stop the engines?”

“Not at this speed sir!” she replied. “And with our coolant depleted, I am unable to ramp them down. We will continue to increase speed until the engines burn out, but there will be no way of stopping the ship!”

We were now traveling at 1.5 times the speed of light and increasing. It was the fastest that humanity had ever achieved. But it was going to cost the lives of my crew.

Valdez and Jackass looked to me for answers. I had none.

I went over the intercom.

“Attention crew of the Sagan,”I said, “it has been the privilege of a lifetime to serve as your captain. All of you are fine officers. You have achieved only what others have dreamt. Let’s just hope history never forgets the name: The USV Carl Sagan.

I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. Vibration began increasing.

Then there was a miracle.

“Sir!” Valdez yelled. “Speed is decreasing!”

I opened my eyes. The universe was no longer speeding past us. Finally, the Sagan reached a full stop.

“What the hell happened?” I asked.

There was a voice behind me. “I stopped this piece of shit from flying apart, that’s what happened,” it said.

I turned around and there was a Jack Lemmon-looking asshole dressed in white robes standing on the bridge.

“Who are you?” I said to the strange man.

“God, dumbass!”

“You’re God?! I thought Yah was God!”

“No moron! Yah’s that damn Deceiver fella mentioned in that book of yours, the uhh…,” God started snapping his fingers to jog his memory.

“The Bible?” I said

“The Bible! That’s it! He had this cockamamie idea that he could come to Earth and establish a kingdom for himself or some stupid crap. I dunno. We stopped him and thought that he should be a prisoner to YOU guys because he tortured all of you for so long. Clearly that didn’t work out. So now we’re gonna have to find some other way to punish Yah. That guy’s fucking nuts!”

“So are you the ONLY God?”

“I’m the only one NAMED God, if that’s what you mean. But no, there’s a lot more like me.”

“What do you guys DO?”

“Hey! You stay out of our affairs and we’ll stay out of yours PAL!”

“But Earth needs your help.”

“Let me tell you something: no they don’t. You think that because we’re “gods” that we don’t know what it’s like to be you guys? Guess what? We were like you humans at one time. Humanity can climb out of this mess and come back stronger than ever. You know what? I believe in YOU. How do you like that irony?”

“Can you at least help the Ishnarians?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll go back to Ishnar. I’m used to cleaning up Yah’s shit.”

“I have just one more favor to ask.”

“What do you want now?”

“Can you send us back to Earth? The ship’s kinda broken.”

“Look, I’m not allowed to break the laws of time. Earth’s kinda a shithole right now. Don’t worry though, there’s still people there but they’re all living underground. How bout I put you back in your hibernation chambers and by the time you reach Earth, radiation levels will be back to normal. Sound like a deal?”

“Thanks God.”

“Alright, sweet dreams.” Then God snapped his fingers again.

Many decades later…

The Sagan was orbiting Earth. Tranquility Bay was abandoned and uninhabitable. I made the decision to land on the surface.

“Radiation levels have stabilized, Captain,” Dr. Jackass said.

“Thank you Doctor.” From the bridge, I looked out through the view screen, down to the big blue marble below. “Should we attempt communication?” I asked.

“There doesn’t appear to be any technology to receive it,” the Doctor replied.

“We really are back to the stone ages then,” I said. “I’ll be down in engineering.”

I met with Commander Mwangi at her station. “How’s the landing gear?” I asked.

“All systems are functioning normally, sir,” she replied. But she wouldn’t look at me.

“Is everything alright Commander?”

Mwangi stood up from her desk and turned her face towards me. “You took a big gamble Captain,” she said. “You risked the safety of the entire crew.”

“I ain’t apologizing for getting into a stare down with the devil and winning,” I replied.

“We could’ve been killed!”

“I couldn’t allow you to live in sexual slavery!”

Mwangi sucker punched me right in the face. As I stood in a daze, she grabbed my head and kissed me passionately. “You are one stupid, STUPID son of a bitch,” she said, “but I thank you for it.” She rubbed her body against mine as she sidestepped her way back to work.

I had no idea what just happened. But I liked it.

I returned to the bridge and patted Valdez on the shoulder. “I never congratulated you on your pregnancy. Congratulations Commander,” I told her.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Are you ready to raise this child in a brave new world?”

She smiled. “Yes sir.”

I smiled back.

“Prepare for landing.”

THE END