All my memories are of Jesus, from when I was eleven, to three years later when he was crucified. I was fourteen when he died. I followed him from the beginning of his mission until the very end. Of course, he did come back to life; he resurrected himself, proving that he was the son of God.
I've been an orphan for as long as I can remember; I don't even know what happened to my parents. Maybe, they abandoned me, or they got killed somehow. The times I live in are rough, brutal, with no mercy whatsoever, for anyone. The Romans especially are brutal; they have no mercy or a soul in them. They really scare me, but I have to be brave because there's no one else to be brave for me.
I scrape by a lot of the times, but when I started following Jesus around, I was always full and happy. I was full not just in the stomach, but in the spirit. He always had a sparkle in his eyes, a sparkle you couldn't help to admire and look at. Every time he looked at me, I swelled full with happiness and self worth. I followed him every step of his journey; in a way, I walked in his shoes. I walked in his footsteps, experiencing what he experienced. But, of course, Jesus had a different perspective on a lot of things. When I saw disgust, he saw beauty. When I saw that someone was broken beyond repair, he saw something that could be healed by love. He always saw the positive, and now because of that, I try to, too.
Usually, when I go downstairs, I see my mom cooking breakfast, my dad reading the newspaper, and Grace reading a book. But today, they aren’t home. Mom isn’t cooking. Dad isn’t reading the daily newspaper. Grace isn’t reading a book.
I go inside the kitchen and mom must of left the water boiling. I go to turn it off, when I see something strange. Mom’s clothes are on the floor. I turn to see at the table that Dad’s clothes are on the floor. Right next to his clothes, Grace’s clothes are on the floor and the book she was reading was the bible. The bible was opened to 1 Corinthians 15:51-52.
“Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.”
No this can’t be happening. It’s all a dream. Yeah, I just woke up from sleep and this is just a dream. I should be waking up by now, I think to myself.
I go in the living room and turn on the television. “Breaking news, the world is going crazy. People are vanishing all around the world and all that is left of them are their clothing. There are major accidents and even plane crashes going on around the globe. People would call this the rapture. The end time and-” I turned off the TV.
So I’m not dreaming. This is real. Why? Why? Wasn't I good enough? What did I do?, I pray.
Note:This story is clean, so no cuss words. Unlike some books I read :)