Obsidian Crosses
Truly Heartless
The dream had me inconsolable. It plagued my entire existence. Peter asked me about my new-found disease. "Your teacher drowned me in his fucking blood last night, it was really shitty." I muttered. Peter's face turned a sickly shade of white. He left quickly, and I heard him banging on the doors of the other disciples, rousing them. Most of them told Peter to go away because he was being obnoxious, but he persisted until they finally left their rooms whilst in a stupor. Simon looked like he wanted to kill someone. John was sleeping on the shoulders of Luke, who looked like he desperately needed a tampon. Peter made me tell them about my dream. The details reviled them, they looked at each other in shock.
Judas looked the most shaken out of all of them. "I've...seen things..." He whispered shakily. All eyes were upon him as he told his dark, sordid tale. Every Thursday afternoon, Jesus would send off the disciples on their own. He needed to be alone for some reason. One day, Judas crept off to see Jesus, for whatever reason, and found his beloved teacher in a pool of his own blood. His hands looked as if they had been pierced, there were deep lacerations on his back and blood dripped from his forehead. Jesus appeared to be in some sort of trance, and wouldn't respond to anything. These wounds and trances would last until Friday morning.
It was Friday morning... Each of the disciples let that fact rain hail on their minds for a second. Their teacher had strictly forbidden them from seeking him out until Friday afternoon, but maybe it was time for a bit of disobedience. We cautiously walked down the hall to the room of Jesus, and cracked open the door. Then the group shoved me and Peter inside and shut the door quickly. Peter almost fainted. "You guys are dicks, just so you know. Just wait til' I'm a god, and then you'll pay." I snarled at them. Peter gasped erratically.
"Peter woke us up, so it's his problem." Simon snarled.
"Let me know if Jesus is actually bleeding..." Thomas asked cynically.
"I need to get away from you people." Judas whimpered.
Jesus was sitting on the side of his bed with his head in his hands, which were coated in drying blood. He slowly picked up his head and looked at us with a look of excruciating pain in his crystal blue eyes. "Peter....Heather..." Jesus choked sorrowfully. Peter slumped to the floor in terror. I looked around for knives or something sharp, since Jesus was obviously emo enough to hurt himself severely. Maybe I could make him into a new Billie Joe.
"J-Christ, what the hell did you do to yourself?!" I shouted. Jesus winced.
"I didn't...do this to myself..." Jesus cried. I rolled my eyes. Of course he did, those kinds of wounds don't just happen. I pulled a pocket knife out of my pocket and covered it in his blood, so it would obviously look like he hurt himself. Then I pulled open the door and showed the bloody knife to the disciples. They looked at it in disgust.
"Behold, your mentally ill messiah!" I cheerfully proclaimed, pointing at Jesus. The disciples now glared at him.
"I always knew he was a stupid fake." Thomas muttered.
"We've been following a lunatic for HOW LONG??" Luke asked incredulously
"My savior Jesus, how could you?" Matthew whimpered sadly.
I calmed all of them. Jesus said nothing. "It's okay, people, I promise. Your J-Christ is obviously not a 'Christ' so you all should follow me. I'll lead you to riches untold. I'll baptize you with eternal life and crucify you with actual culture. I'll give your dry bones VIP access to hitching a ride on my world wide fame." The disciples cheered and paraded out of the room, away from their former teacher. I grinned evilly, finally! My own cult to brainwash!
As I turned to leave, I glanced back at Jesus one last time. He looked extremely heart-broken. His gaze seemed to say "I can see why you call yourself "Heartless" now."
Oh well, suck it.
Judas looked the most shaken out of all of them. "I've...seen things..." He whispered shakily. All eyes were upon him as he told his dark, sordid tale. Every Thursday afternoon, Jesus would send off the disciples on their own. He needed to be alone for some reason. One day, Judas crept off to see Jesus, for whatever reason, and found his beloved teacher in a pool of his own blood. His hands looked as if they had been pierced, there were deep lacerations on his back and blood dripped from his forehead. Jesus appeared to be in some sort of trance, and wouldn't respond to anything. These wounds and trances would last until Friday morning.
It was Friday morning... Each of the disciples let that fact rain hail on their minds for a second. Their teacher had strictly forbidden them from seeking him out until Friday afternoon, but maybe it was time for a bit of disobedience. We cautiously walked down the hall to the room of Jesus, and cracked open the door. Then the group shoved me and Peter inside and shut the door quickly. Peter almost fainted. "You guys are dicks, just so you know. Just wait til' I'm a god, and then you'll pay." I snarled at them. Peter gasped erratically.
"Peter woke us up, so it's his problem." Simon snarled.
"Let me know if Jesus is actually bleeding..." Thomas asked cynically.
"I need to get away from you people." Judas whimpered.
Jesus was sitting on the side of his bed with his head in his hands, which were coated in drying blood. He slowly picked up his head and looked at us with a look of excruciating pain in his crystal blue eyes. "Peter....Heather..." Jesus choked sorrowfully. Peter slumped to the floor in terror. I looked around for knives or something sharp, since Jesus was obviously emo enough to hurt himself severely. Maybe I could make him into a new Billie Joe.
"J-Christ, what the hell did you do to yourself?!" I shouted. Jesus winced.
"I didn't...do this to myself..." Jesus cried. I rolled my eyes. Of course he did, those kinds of wounds don't just happen. I pulled a pocket knife out of my pocket and covered it in his blood, so it would obviously look like he hurt himself. Then I pulled open the door and showed the bloody knife to the disciples. They looked at it in disgust.
"Behold, your mentally ill messiah!" I cheerfully proclaimed, pointing at Jesus. The disciples now glared at him.
"I always knew he was a stupid fake." Thomas muttered.
"We've been following a lunatic for HOW LONG??" Luke asked incredulously
"My savior Jesus, how could you?" Matthew whimpered sadly.
I calmed all of them. Jesus said nothing. "It's okay, people, I promise. Your J-Christ is obviously not a 'Christ' so you all should follow me. I'll lead you to riches untold. I'll baptize you with eternal life and crucify you with actual culture. I'll give your dry bones VIP access to hitching a ride on my world wide fame." The disciples cheered and paraded out of the room, away from their former teacher. I grinned evilly, finally! My own cult to brainwash!
As I turned to leave, I glanced back at Jesus one last time. He looked extremely heart-broken. His gaze seemed to say "I can see why you call yourself "Heartless" now."
Oh well, suck it.