The Godsend Backfire: The Beginning by Harold Straugh (best e reader for academics TXT) 📗

I was the only one in town with a horse, so while the crowd was distracted, I went to a side of the town that was blocked by most of the buildings. I took my bow and arrows, glanced at the furs and shook my head, then smacked the horse’s hindquarter and sent it on its way. I threw my bow and arrows over my shoulder and headed back towards the crowd.

I kept my distance this time though, watching the weird one, as he eyeballed Jesus, he looked at Jesus with lust in his eyes, a look I’ve seen before. I noticed he would step close to Jesus, Jesus would notice and step away.  The weird one got flustered and went to the back of the group.

The place was nice to me, people kept to themselves, and didn’t bother me. They were all too interested in the Jesus character to be paying attention to someone like me. So, for the next several days I payed attention to the weird character, after couple more days the group moved to a place called Jerusalem.

Also, in the previous days there was much talk of to a place called Rome of Judea and some guy named Pontius Pilate, who ordered Jesus to be scourged, then crucified on the accounts of Jesus being a blasphemer.  I knew for a fact he wasn’t.

Jerusalem was huge and wherever Jesus went his disciples followed.  All except one, the weird one would get up and sneak off into the night, or often break away from the group. One night, I started to follow him, and he would met someone, who would, then ride off.  I wanted to follow the guy riding off, to see where he was going, but I waited. The weird one spotted me and started to head in my direction. There wasn’t much I could do, I didn’t want to just disappear just to have him see me again because I wasn’t leaving anytime soon, so I thought.

“You lost stranger?” he asked, his Aramaic accent was heavy.

“No, I’m exactly where I need to be. I’m Roldian by the way, so you don’t have to keep calling me stranger.”

“I’m Judas,” he said and nodded, the weirdo finally got named, “I haven’t seen you around her before.”

“I come from afar, I heard of Jesus and his disciples and wanted to see what the people were going mad about. I do have to say, I’m not impressed,”

“One should not speak so badly of our savior,” he said, popping his pointer finger knuckle by bringing his thumb down over the top of it.  I was sensing he was getting nervous, but of what? I had made no threats, “Why do you wear covers over your eyes at night? What are you hiding?” he asked and reached for my glasses.

I grabbed his wrist, stopping him from taking my glasses off.  He tried to pull away, but I wasn’t releasing him, “Let me go heathen!” he said.

“Can you keep your hands to yourself?” I asked

He tried jerking away again, but I squeezed a little harder and his eyes got wide, “Owe! Yes, I will keep my hands to myself,” he finally said, and I let him go.  He shook his arm and gave me a hateful look then took off, back towards Jerusalem.

Naturally, I beat him there, but I was careful about my abilities and used them only at night. It was hard form me to see at night so I had to focus on the lights of the city.

I lost him when I got back, so I occupied my time by shooting my bow and arrows.  I set up a torch by my target, which was piece of rotted wood I just happened to find.  I pulled back and focused the best I could, even though I’ve done the shot a hundred times before, I concentrated like it was my first.  I hit just above the center of the wood; my second shot was spot on.  I enjoyed shooting but I would grow tired of it quickly because I wasn’t challenging anymore.  I always remembered how Noemi and I learned to shoot together.

The day came to quickly and off in the distance I noticed someone riding towards Jerusalem, it appeared to be the same person that Judas sent off the night before.  I walked around, blending in the best I could, keeping my face covered at all times.  I watched as the rider tied off his horse on a post, next to a building on the furthest point north in Jerusalem.  He then walked around to a building three spots down from his horse and appeared to be looking for something.  I kept my distance and watched, everyone else in the town was too busy paying attention to the disciples and Jesus.

The rider was almost as tall as I, myself standing at almost six-foot-six-inches and wore beige clothing and didn’t seem to care about covering up his face. His face was long with a thin beard that traced his jawline.  His long, black hair was pulled back high on his head.  He wore an over garment that was loose around the arms and hung down just below the waist.  He was scouring along the wall; I could see his head looking back and forth.

There were four clay pots, one red, one dark green, one grey and one brown, along the stone wall of the building the rider was examining.  He stopped at each pot looking for something, then when he reached the grey pot, he pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper.  The rider folded up the piece of paper and stuffed it in his garments. He started to look around, so I backed up, away from the corner of the building in which I was watching him from.  I waited a few seconds to look back and he was gone. I used