Post #2.5, Wednesday, 11-13-2019

Historical Setting, 561 C.E., Gaul

No stars, no moon — the stillness of dark has no dimension – no goodness, no evil just void.

         Dear God were it only true that the one who gathers the dead had come for me this night. Stay near me. I would rather not be discarded alone. Amen.

         “There you are Papa!  I was waiting for you at the front gate.  I should have guessed they would send you out a hidden door to the churchyard. My wagon is just beyond the wall. Are you well?  Can you walk with me?”

         “I am well. Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t in danger from this plague?”

         “You did say that, but your story were so strange I choose to think otherwise.”

         “So you came all the way down here to find me as a dead man?”

         “I came to take you back in whatever way I could find you.  I wagered with Enola, who still thinks you a ghost, that you would have plague by now. I bet her I would find you suffering or dead. But now I’m so glad I lost the bet, even though I still think you are a flesh and blood mortal man and not a ghost.”

         “I am that, as I told you.”

         If there were any hint of light this night it falls on the pale coat of the donkey waiting outside the wall. The cart is filled with blankets and straw with a large bundle of fragrant herbs.

         “Enola promised me I would find you well, as I have, and yet she filled my wagon with comforts for you ailing so perhaps she also didn’t believe her own wager.”

         “It was kind of you both. I truly wanted to see you again. And perhaps Eve or as you say Enola will shed her bee nets that I may lay my eyes on her beautiful face as she is now grown up.”

         “She has no more beautiful face, Papa. That’s why she wears the nets and why she chooses to see no one. The plague only left her with two scars on her neck, but the pox disfigured her monstrously.

         “My wife can’t even bear to look upon her though my children are accustomed.”

         “However I see her will be better than never seeing her.

         “This road seems longer at night behind a slow donkey, is it not?”

         “It is a long road. We won’t be there before dawn.”

(Continues tomorrow)

Published by J.K. Marlin

Retired church playwright learning new art forms-- fiction writing, in historical context and now blogging these stories. The Lazarus Pages have a recurring character -- best friend of Jesus -- repeatedly waking to life in various periods of church history and spirituality.

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