LAZARUS (Part 1) (810 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 2 on 14 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Yes (View user info) at 2005-05-07 16:52:52 EDT
The night before the interview, Lazarus dreamed of Jesus. The two men were surrounded by a storm of rose-petals and glass, and at times, Jesus seemed very far off. Lazarus stood and shouted through the wind, his face weeping blood as the glass scored it heavily.
After some time, the storm died down, and in the distance, Jesus stood atop a mountain, backed by a purple setting sun and surrounded by a flock of doves. He was saying something.
"I can't hear you!" Lazarus shouted. "What are you saying?"
The words that came to him on the wind were broken and frayed at the edges, as if they'd hung in the air far too long. He could only make out one sentence.
"Speak the truth."
Lazarus awakened with a mouth like a tomb, and his hands were very, very cold.
It was hot. It was hot, and it was dry, and the heat made Lazarus tired and angry.
Again, Lazarus asked himself why he had agreed to meet the man. Perhaps he owed it to those who envied his position—the impoverished, persecuted members of the cult his oldest friend had founded. He wondered again if he had dreamed that last meeting at the Place of the Skulls.
Luke arrived an hour or so after noon. He was much like from any other Christian. Gaunt and rawboned, his features recalled a station from his former life. He looked educated, but Lazarus didn't doubt he had the outline of a fish scrawled across his bony chest.
He was well mannered, if nothing else. He stood at the door and said nothing as Lazarus examined him critically. "So," Lazarus said finally. "You're writing a book."
"Yes, that's right," Luke answered, brown eyes brightening. "For the Church. It's going to be a biography—of the Lord."
Well, that was refreshing. Most of the Christians Lazarus had encountered called Jesus by his first name—as if they knew him personally. Lazarus had been distressed when he'd realized that many of them believed they did.
Lazarus invited the young man inside and poured some wine. He sat creakily on a stool and continued to examine the man. Man? He was scarcely more than a boy.
Luke didn't sit. He paced nervously around the small room, his gestures clipped and flighty, like those of a bird. "A glorious day," he commented distractedly. "Surprising, what with the Rapture so close at hand."
Definitely one of Jesus' followers. Poor boy. Lazarus sighed to himself. "Is it?" he asked.
"Yes, of course," Luke answered, warming to the subject. "Jesus told us that there is little time left before his return."
Lazarus knew he shouldn't laugh, but he couldn't help himself. "Young man, Jesus never did have a very good conception of time. You should also keep in mind that his... disciples... are rather prone to histrionics."
Luke was aghast. "How can you speak so of the Apostles? They were chosen by the Lord Himself!"
"Now, we both know that the paths of Paul and Jesus never crossed before the Execution—or after. I don't speak ill of the Church's leaders. I know some of them personally. I simply speak the truth. Wine?"
"No, no. I mustn't. We must keep ourselves pure. The skies could unravel and the Lord return at any time."
"Of course," Lazarus shrugged. The young man was probably right. Who knew what Jesus was capable of?
"So," Luke said, finally resting nervously on the other stool. "Where is your sister? Your wife?"
"Dead," Lazarus answered. "Mary's been dead these five years, and my wife died many years ago."
Luke reached out and touched Lazarus' arm. "We'll all rejoice together before long."
With effort, Lazarus quelled his discomfort. He never had liked being touched—and all of Jesus' followers unnerved him. There was no use explaining that no matter what Jesus had actually been, his followers were human, and therefore capable of error.
Lazarus cleared his throat. "Well," he said gamely, even as his stomach turned over, "What do you want to know?"
Luke's eyes widened. "What do I want to know? You are the Lazarus that the Lord raised from the dead?"
"I am."
"Then tell me about it! Tell me what happened!"
Lazarus paused and took a deep breath. "I've never told the story before," he said softly. "But I will try to make some sense."
"I knew Jesus before he was famous. I didn't know him as an anti-imperialist revolutionary or the compelling Man-god of your religion. I knew him as the odd, thin son of Joseph the carpenter. He had dark skin and his hands and feet were too large for his body. He had a tendency to stop listening during conversations and wander off from his parents. He was a strange boy... and an even stranger man.
"I'm not the same since he raised me. How old would you say I am? Be truthful. Thirty-five? Forty? I am fifty-two years old. I was thirty-three when Jesus called me back to life, and I have been ever since.
"Don't look so surprised.
"...There are other things. Little things. My skin tingles when I'm near a corpse. I always know when it's going to rain. I knew the moment Jesus was arrested, and at the exact instant of his death, I felt a piercing pain in my chest. We don't like to talk about that aspect of it—those of us who have been touched by his hand. But it's true. You can see it in our eyes.
"I feel smaller now. Minuscule. Look at me—I'm not a small man. But sometimes when the sun rises to glower over the land, it's the most frightening thing I've ever seen....
"But I'm getting ahead of myself. I was telling you about Jesus. I knew him well. As well as anyone could, I suppose.
"When we were young, we didn't consider his feats miraculous. The things he did were fun to watch—astounding sometimes. I remember one Sabbath, we were playing in a muddy stream near my father's house. We were eight or so. We weren't supposed to be there, but that had never stopped us before. Jesus, David and Judas were there—and so was I, of course.
"No, not that Judas. This one was a goatherd's son from down the road.
"Jesus wasn't playing with the rest of us. As usual, he sat a little ways away, playing in the dirt... and watching us. He watched us intently. He did that a lot, now that I think of it. It had been more than a little unsettling at first, but by then I was used to it. Even then, he'd had that strange stare of his.
"Judas and I wrestled, and David kept score. That was why we'd come to the streambed in the first place—if we were going to wrestle, then we might as well get as dirty as possible.
"'Lazarus, come here,' Jesus called suddenly. I was a year older than he was, but he'd been ordering me around since he'd learned to talk. Calling me to him like that.
"I threw Judas off and kicked at him to keep him at bay as I rushed to my friend. 'What are you doing?' I asked.
"'You'll see,' Jesus answered, molding a lump of clay in his hands.
"'If you break the Sabbath, your mother will murder you,' I reminded him, but he ignored me.
'Eyes closed, he drove his fingers into the clay, shaping it, pulling it this way and that. David and Judas wandered over to watch as Jesus, rocking back and forth, neared the completion of his work. When he was done, he held the object high and stared intently at it.
'A bird. He'd made a bird.
"'That bird's no good,' Judas commented. He was irritated that Jesus had spoiled our wrestling match. 'His head's too big, and he has no wings. He's ugly.'
"'What sort of bird is it?' David asked.
"'It's a sparrow,' Jesus answered.
'The reply seemed to make Judas reexamine his critique. Finally, he shook his head. 'It's still ugly.'
"'It's not ugly, it's a bird,' I told him. The other children always made fun of Jesus, and I always defended him.
"'I hope you're better at carpentry than you are at making birds,' Judas declared. 'Your stools would have no legs.'
"'David tittered and Jesus was silent for a space, still regarding his work. He shot Judas an angry stare and looked back to the misshapen little sparrow. 'Live,' he told it. And it did.
"The bird seemed to awaken suddenly. It jerked its head and examined its surroundings, then leaped from Jesus' hand.
"Jesus stood and watched the bird as it shot into the sky. It joined a flock of other sparrows and kept pace with them as they flew off to the East.
"All of us stood there silently for a moment, and Judas turned to Jesus. 'Hey,' he said. 'Make me one.'
"Jesus turned without a word and stalked off angrily.
"He was always doing things like that. He wasn't showing off, I'm convinced. I don't think he really expected these things to work. It bothered him. I didn't find out how much it disturbed him until years later."
User Reviews
Submitted by electrictoothsyndrome (user info) at 2005-06-30 14:31:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WINNER! http://www.ubersite.com/m/69673
Submitted by Ivy (user info) at 2005-05-29 02:27:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was excellent. I thought the imagery really worked, and I definitely understood the age issue. I wonder why everyone's so confused?
Submitted by Yes (user info) at 2005-05-14 11:50:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Part 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/65868
Part 2: http://www.ubersite.com/m/65966
Part 3: http://www.ubersite.com/m/66052
Part 4: http://www.ubersite.com/m/66099
Part 5: http://www.ubersite.com/m/66155
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-05-12 13:48:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Munkey gave me the heads up about this story.
I love the whole concept and you really bring the narrative of Lazarus along well.
A little more imagery might be a good thing, I had a hard time picturing the glass storm, but that's nitpicking.
This is very cool.
On to the next story.
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2005-05-12 11:25:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
clever
Submitted by miss_tila (user info) at 2005-05-11 14:18:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-05-10 14:34:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Yes (user info) at 2005-05-09 15:58:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Thanks for reading it, part 2 coming up in few minutes, as soon as I get it formatted for uber adn find a pic.
Submitted by Flaahgra (user info) at 2005-05-08 16:25:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Lazarus' relative age. He says he's fifty-two but that he was thirty three when Jesus revived him...I don't know what he means in that sentence. Does he mean he appears 52? I'm confused.
I believe that he means that Lazarus' biological clock, per se, stopped when he was revived (at age 33). He was revived 19 years before, though, making him 52 years old, but he's only aged for 33 years.
Anyway, this story is totally awesome, and totally deserves more readers.
As awesome as this story is, the song is still better, though. <3 Porcupine Tree.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-05-08 10:42:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Hey, I just realized I don't know when this story takes place. I assumed it was present day, for some reason, but now I think it was just after Jesus' time.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-05-08 10:37:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Seriously! Bask in the awesomeness that is this post, jerks!
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-05-07 20:22:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Read this, fuckers!
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-05-07 17:59:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I know what Rambone is saying, but brother, EVERY day is the right day for a story like this. This was fucking awesome. Really good concept; absolutely fascinating. I'm totally hooked.
Two issues: Lazarus' relative age. He says he's fifty-two but that he was thirty three when Jesus revived him...I don't know what he means in that sentence. Does he mean he appears 52? I'm confused.
Second, when he starts talking about Jesus the dialogue turns into basically a first-person narrative. This is not a terrible thing, but I kind of wonder what Luke is doing all through this story.
I think you captured Jesus' attitude as a child really well, with the clay bird coming to life and him being indignant and all that. It totally sounds like something he would do (as ridiculous as it sounds for me to say that).
Submitted by Hands_Rambone (user info) at 2005-05-07 17:31:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wrong day for a story like this.