[EU] [WRITING PROMPT] When the government found out about her powers, they tracked her down, killed the teacher trying to protect her, and took her away. They tested on her for years on end until she found a way to escape. Now she wants revenge. They would feel the wrath of... Matilda.
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Miss Honey had always told her that she was something special, and she truly believed that. A precocious young child, with a mind of brilliance. She had never expected the day they had shown up, threatening Miss Honey with words Matilda had never heard before. Curse words that had never even left her parents mouths, left these mens' mouths, and she was disgusted. She had shut the door in their faces with a jerk of her chin. A frightened look from Miss Honey, and Matilda pulled her into the backroom of the cottage.
"It will be okay, Miss Honey," she promised. "I'll protect you."
Miss Honey smiled sadly. It was as though she knew their peace would only be for so long. There was nought to be done about it, and she held Matilda close.
Miss Honey promised her, that no matter what happened, that she must remember to be kind. That the only way to live, was to go forward.
It was the next day when they came. Matilda remembered screaming and throwing all that she could -- but when Miss Honey opened the door to a gentle knock, and the shot rang out -- there was nothing but pure sorrow as she was plucked from her life as though she weighed nothing, and carried past the limp body of her truest and purest friend. Her soft honeyed eyes that mimicked her namesake were glazed, and Matilda tucked her face into the unforgiving suit jacket of the man that carried her.
There were men dressed in black, and there were men in army fatigues. They had clearly expected a battle, but with the sight of Miss Honey, fallen at her door -- the fight went out of Matilda, and she simply cried.
Sorrow. It beat at her like a relentless drum, and vibrated into her very soul. She'd never felt anything like it. And with the sorrow she became struck with nightmares that never ceased, and became docile, and quiet. She cried herself to sleep until there were no more tears, and she called for Miss Honey in her sleep. She did as they asked, lifted and moved things, never even blinking or responding to their at their compliments, and their absolute delight at her abilities. They were cold, and unaffectionate. Quiet, and corrective. Dressed in white, in white rooms, with an odd lighting, that after awhile gave her migraines. However, after years, of quiet dismal depression and sorrow, that Matilda felt to her core, something happened.
And it changed absolutely everything.
One of the doctors, a narrow faced man, had mentioned Miss Honey. He had sat across from her, while doing tests, striking his pen across the paper, and writing when necessary. He had callously said "that Honey woman, had no idea of the power she'd held in the palm of her hand" to another doctor. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the sorrow snapped. Like brittle cooked bones, it shattered and left behind shards that burned and pierced her heart and soul.
It transformed.
It became something more akin to fire. Raising her tired eyes, she glared at the man, and with a whispered apology to Miss Honey, she realized that she could not always be kind. But, yes, the only way to live, was to go forward.
Matilda felt the fire burn brighter, and with a small crooked smile, looked at the man across from her. Without a singular blink, she mentally plucked the pen from his fingers, and thrust it through his throat. Jugular to jugular, and through the voice box. His eyes widened, and he looked confused. She felt no joy in this, only that she knew that Miss Honey never meant for things to be this way.
There was no going back now.
As Miss Honey had said,
You could only go forward.
“I never did truly decide what to do about Bordan. He crashed into my life, and stayed because I couldn’t get rid of him. In truth, I never tried very hard.”
~Telian, The White Sword
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Telian, Bordan decided pretty much immediately, was far too serious for his own good. He needed a friend, and Bordan suspected that someone, probably a bunch of someones, had told the young general that he had to be The Model of a General every waking moment of the day.
Bordan, personally, hated them all, sight unseen. He had only known Telian for half an hour, but he could already tell that he badly needed someone who wouldn’t take him seriously.
He was, however, extraordinarily capable, and had the respect of his soldiers. That alone told Bordan a lot about how Telian ran things.
“Leonid, make sure the town is fully cleared,” he said as Bordan leaned on his shoulder, still limping because he really wasn’t very good with Heal lenz and his leg wasn’t fully healed. Telian, as it turned out, wasn’t much better and mostly carried the Heal lenz in case of emergencies. “Ulys, is the family evacuated?”
“Yes sir,” the second soldier reported as the first one trotted off. They were, Bordan noted, both substantially older than Telian, but they didn’t seem bothered by taking orders from their nineteen-year-old general. “Who is this?”
“Bordan,” Telian said, having gotten Bordan’s name, and some of his story, out of him on the way down from the reactor. “He’s from east of here and saw the miasma rolling in. He’s the one who got the family out.”
“You did good, kid,” Ulys said, and raised his hand, bracers bright with lenz. He was tall and stout, but with none of the fat around his middle that most men his age boasted. He also had a fine thick beard, and his hair was cut almost to his scalp. “Let’s deal with that leg, huh?”
“You’re a hero among men,” Bordan said sincerely and let Telian help him to a crate so he could sit. Ulys chuckled and focused hard for a minute. The green lenz in his hand shone, and Bordan sighed as the magic sank into his bad leg, taking the damage with it. Telian watched impassively, one eye on the soldiers around them. They were crisply dealing with the remaining undead and going from house to house, looking for survivors. “Saw the second wave coming down the hill. Didn’t realize they got hit this morning and most of the town was dead.”
“We saw you run for the reactor,” Ulys said and put his lenz away. “You’re done, kid. The General jumped out to back you and sent the rest of us to get the family out. They’re safe.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Ulys clapped his shoulder, and saluted Telian before heading off towards the other soldiers. Telian watched him go before turning to Bordan.
“We can take you to the next town,” he said when Bordan shifted, somewhat uncomfortable now that all the fighting was over. He hadn’t met many A.P.O.C. soldiers out in the backwater town he grew up in. “But not farther.”
“I want to join the A.P.O.C.,” Bordan said, sensing an opportunity. When else would he get the chance to talk to the White Sword himself? And there was a pinch in his gut, something that pushed him to keep talking. Maybe it was the way Telian kept glancing at him, pretending distraction. “Take me with you.”
“This isn’t a recruitment mission,” Telian told him flatly. “We don’t have time to take a civilian back to headquarters.”
“Then don’t,” Bordan replied, and stood. He was taller than Telian, but not by much. “Look, take me with you. Give me a chance to prove that I’m good for it.”
Telian considered him impassively, one hand on the hilt of his rapier. Bordan rolled his shoulders and straightened up.
“You don’t have any training.”
“I’ve been hunting monsters back home for years. Come on. You already like me. You know I’ve got the crazy. What else do I need?”
“Training.”
“So train me,” Bordan said cheerfully. “We would train together anyway, even if I joined up with everyone else.”
“General, we’re ready to go.”
It was Ulys, back again and thoughtful as he glanced at Bordan. He, however, was too much a professional to question Telian in front of someone he didn’t know. “Everyone is loaded up.”
Telian wavered again, the image of a man who was talking himself into, or out of something. Bordan let him think as he went to reclaim the bag he tossed aside when he first saw the undead. His sword was a loss, broken in the fight. He left the hilt where it fell. No reason to take it with him, and he had enough money left to buy a new one in the next town over.
“Alright,” Telian said when Bordan came back, bag over his shoulder. “You have until the next town to impress me. Do that, and perhaps I’ll put a word in about getting you enlisted.”
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CB - Before the Black Lenz:
Lenz is power. the crystallized blood of the planet. Magic, for those willing to junction it. Power for those who control it. Terrible, for those who face the lenzmasters, who wield magic to terrible effect.
But before they can be junctioned, lenz must be found, and only a few are brave enough to brave the mana fountains that mark the birth of a new lenz.
Breaking Good: a series of improbable events prompts a depraved meth cook to beat terminal cancer and become a high school chemistry teacher and all around upstanding citizen.
Title: Glad You Found Me
Pairing: Jork
Rating: R / NC-17
Warnings: slow burn into hot men having sex
Summary: Peter and Davy run into each other in a bar years after The Monkees have gone their separate ways and thanks to a little alcohol they end up back at Davy’s LA flat.
Word Count: 2.9K
Author’s Note: this is my first Monkees fic in almost years. I’ve been writing but other ships / aus so this might not be the best, but an honest attempt was made. Expect more to come!
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The Monkees were over. Done, no more. Davy and Micky had given it their best efforts with the final 1970 album Changes but it wasn’t enough, they couldn’t keep it up. The people didn’t want them anymore, the people were moving on.
Micky had his directing openings that he ran with, doors opened after The Monkees door closed and Davy was more than encouraging for him to take the positions - it was his life dream after all. Davy, on the other hand, was a fish out of water in LA, it wasn’t where he really wanted to be. Sure, it had fulfilled his acting dreams, but he wasn’t a club goer, he wasn’t the kind to really go for the bright, upbeat places that Mick and Pete frequented.
On a whim, Davy decided to go out tonight, hit a small little club that might not carry the teenyboppers that would gawk over him and make his night louder than he was looking for.
What he didn’t expect was to find Peter already there, at the bar sipping on what looked like whiskey and coke while making idle conversation with the bartender.
Peter had been oblivious to the world around him while he was sitting at the bar. He was three drinks deep and though that wasn’t a lot for him these days, it was enough to loosen him up, enough that he might spill too many of his secrets if left with the wrong person for too long. The real Peter Tork was nothing like the character he’d been known for on the show, and though he had tried to show a little more of himself during the second season, he hadn’t been allowed to really be himself. So, now that he was free, he would come to these places, spend a little more than he needed to on drinks, and hope no one would come up and ask him too many questions.
“Hey, Peter,” Davy said softly as he sat down next to the blonde, hopping up onto the stool next to his old bandmate.
Peter gasped loudly, nearly choking on his drink as he heard that soft Manchester accent he hadn’t heard in years.
“Oh lord, hi David,” Peter said once he’d stopped choking, laughing softly at his own expense as he turned to face the younger man.
“Never thought I’d run into you here,” Davy said softly after ordering his own whiskey and coke, “I always expected you to be closer to the party scene.”
Peter took a long sip of his drink as before replying, another chuckle leaving his soft lips, “some nights I love to party, other nights I just really love being where nobody knows me, now one can take advantage of me, no one can use me for publicity or catch me out doing something stupid. It’s just me, my drink, and a few other lonely men at this place.”
Davy nodded as he took a long sip of his drink, “it’s been a lonely kind of night, I miss home.”
Peter held up his drink in a kind of cheers, “I’ll drink to that. I’ve never missed the Atlantic more than this.”
“Cheers to that, babe,” Davy said as he clinked his glass with Peter’s, taking another long sip of his drink, feeling like they were both in the same mindset tonight.
Both boys didn’t know it yet, they had much more talking to do, but they were in the same state of mind at the bar tonight. As they talked, caught up, reminisced, laughed, poked fun at, and just chatted, they realised they were lonely. Both of them had wanted to get free from the show, there was something universal there that their Frankenstein of a television show would be the death of them in some way or another.
“Have you visited ‘The Pad’ since we called it?” Peter asked softly, thinking about all the memories they’d created on that set, some better than others, but all memories together just the same.
“Nah, they never let us back since 33 and a third,” Davy responded, waving to the bartender for another round, “we did music and tours and then after Changes and it didn’t groove with the kids, they ended me and Mick’s contracts and left us out here on our own.”
Peter nodded in understanding, having followed them since leaving. He didn’t hate the boys, he was just so tired and needed to be free. It was fun, sure, but wasn’t what he wanted from his life.
“Any birds in your life these days?” Davy asked out of the blue, wondering a little more about what Peter was up to these days.
“They come and go but usually I only know them for a night,” Peter answered with a shrug, knowing there was probably plenty of wanting girls back at his pad but he didn’t feel like going.
“That’s more than I’ve gotten lately,” Davy laughed softly as he and Peter grew closer to each other.
They had never talked about it, but during the tours and sometimes behind the scenes, they’d experimented with each other. Davy was curious and Peter was established to be comfortable with men and when they had the chance they tried new things.
“I miss the old days,” Davy said ever so softly as he set his empty drink down on the counter, turning on his stool to gaze over at Peter.
“All the time,” Peter said before taking his last swallow, “why’d you think I was here tonight?”
Peter turned to face Davy, their eyes meeting as they both realised they were fuelled by alcohol, longing, and old desires as they started to stand up from the bar. Both of them set down more than enough cash for their drinks before they started heading for the door.
“My flat or your pad?” Davy asked softly as soon as they’d stepped out the door.
“Yours, please. And, how about we walk so we can walk some of the drinks off?” Peter answered as they turned down the sidewalk.
“Dig,” Davy replied as he followed in step next to Peter.
Though it had been about 3 years since they last truly interacted with each other, the way they walked together was as if nothing had changed. No time had passed as they walked down the road, their feet in sync as Davy guided them down the sidewalk to where he was currently staying. They made idle chat, somehow having more than enough to talk about that they didn’t dwell on the past, it wasn’t all about the boys and the show, it was about where they were off to and what they were doing these days.
Once they made it to Davy’s flat, the tone changed. The air between them soon shifted from casual to lustful as they stepped into the small living place. It was so Davy, girl’s headshots from the show still all up on the walls, like filming had never ended yet Davy could only seem to look at Peter.
The way he carefully pulled his slippers off and set them down next to the welcome mat, the way he stood back up, his eyes closed as he stretched and steeled himself. It was a side of Peter he’d seen before, the side of Peter that was about to give himself wholeheartedly to the younger man.
“I’ve missed you,” Peter whispered as he opened his eyes, showing warm chocolate eyes as he took a step closer to Davy.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Davy replied as he closed the gap, his arms finding their way around Peter’s waist with no trouble.
“Your hold is still tight as ever,” Peter said softly as he melted into the smaller man, his head falling into the mop of brown hair he’d not seen for so long.
“You’re softer than before,” Davy commented softly before nudging Peter’s head up, looking him deep in the eyes before he leaned himself up, brushing their lips together ever so gently.
It was a test, a gentle but silent ask to see if they were on the same page. Peter parted his lips in a soft gasp at the ask and brought his lips to Davy’s, silently answering the question with a yes, yes they were 100% on the same page.
The kiss was gentle and soft, just like how all their old ones started. It, again, was like no time had passed by the way they both knew exactly what to do to wind the other up.
Peter remembered to grind his hips against the younger, causing Davy to jump in gentle surprise before he settled into a matching rhythm, their hips moving together in perfect sync.
Just like their past, their high difference made it a little awkward, since they way they ground together did not cause their ever-growing erections to meet. Dave was quick to fix that problem, breaking the kiss and pulling Peter by the shirt down to his bedroom in a lustful daze, not knowing why he knew what to do, just remembering what he should do.
Before Davy had shut the door behind them, Peter had whipped off his shirt, letting it drop to the floor before he grabbed Davy by the shoulders, spinning him around and reconnecting their lips.
Peter thanked whatever gods he could think of as he quickly unbuttoned Davy’s shirt, grateful for the current “top buttons undone” fad that the hip men were partaking in.
“You’ve gained muscle,” Peter commented in between kisses, their mouths begging to grow sloppy against each other as they both worked to be closer to what they really wanted.
“So’ve you,” Davy mumbled back as his hands moved to Peter’s oh-so-tight pants, working his way down the 4 buttons before pushing them down the elder’s hips, his mouth watering as he saw Peter’s gorgeous cock, getting flashbacks to how much he enjoyed having it in his mouth.
“Slow down there, man, you look like you’re gonna cream your pants,” Peter laughed as he mirrored Davy’s actions. He was a little gentler getting Davy’s pants off, pushing them down with ease and hiding his hunger to devour the younger man.
“Staying the night or shall I leave tonight?” Peter mumbled softly as he placed open mouth kisses to Davy’s bare torso, working his way down until he was on his knees in front of the Manchester marauder.
“Please, stay the night. No one will come by, it’s just us,” Davy whined out softly, his voice sounding pained as Peter was right, he was ready to cream his pants.
Peter was like magic, somehow being able to look completely innocent while having a cock all the way down his throat, and it was a trait Davy found dumb sexy while softly endearing.
“Then I’ll save a little of the fun for tomorrow morning,” Peter mumbled as his brought his hands up Davy’s thighs, his fingertips brushing the skin as he trailed until he had Davy’s cock in his fingers.
With a swift lick of his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, Peter took Davy down to the root, not hesitating for a moment before he engulfed the whole gorgeous member with his hollow cheeks and open throat.
Davy choked on what little air he had left as he watched, Peter moving with skilled ease, using flicks of the tongue and swallowing techniques he hadn’t know back during their last fling on the set of Head.
“Fuck, you’re good at that,” Davy moaned out softly as he brought his hands into Peter’s hair, looking for something to hold on to as he was slowly brought to the brink of madness.
Peter hummed in content in the back of his throat, his own cock jumping at the praise he received from Davy. It was a slurry of words he hadn’t heard in what felt like decades but it brought him right back to everything he adored about Davy, making it oh too easy to kick it into overdrive and hit all those magic spots that drove his lover crazy.
“Stop stop, I’m close and I wanna fuck you tonight,” Davy quickly spluttered out as he felt his muscles tighten up, signalling he was close to orgasm.
Peter pulled off, a trail of spit hanging off his mouth and Davy’s cock as he leaned back on his heels, looking up at Davy with a pout in his lips and yet another twinkle in his eyes.
Davy kneeled down on his own knees in front of Peter, throwing his arms around the elder’s shoulders as he worked to catch his breath. He knew if he wanted to last more than 15 seconds with the blonde boy he needed to calm down and quickly.
“You’re gorgeous,” Davy whispered, almost soft enough for Peter not to hear.
“You’re one to talk,” Peter countered with before he connected their lips.
This kiss was soft, much more gentle and loving than their first few. They knew where they were headed, there was no longer a rush to get to the end. There was the bubbling and burning of old feelings within both of them but neither of them were going to break the moment to say anything. That conversation could be held later. Right now it was about getting to the end of what they started.
“Bed, please,” Peter whispered against Davy’s lips as his knees started to ache, having forgotten what it was like to give head on a hardwood floor.
“You lay down, I’ll get the lubricant,” Davy mumbled back, placing one last, gentle kiss against Peter’s lips before letting them both get up.
Both of them quickly made it up from the floor, Peter taking his position on his hands and knees on Davy’s bed while Davy stopped at his closet to grab the bottle of personal lubricant he had stored there.
Peter craned his neck to watch Davy come towards the bed, already pouring a generous amount onto his hands and warming it up to use to prepare the elder. Without having to speak, they fell back into their old routines.
Davy started slowly with one finger, pushing it in ever so gently as to give Peter time to adjust to the feeling. Once he got the nod from the blonde boy, he would begin to pump it gently until he received yet another nod, the telltale sign Davy could press in a second finger. It was the longest few minutes of their night yet there was something so intimate about it, something so sweet and gentle in the way Davy took his time to make sure Peter was prepped and ready before moving on.
“Slowly, please, until I say,” Peter asked softly once Davy had pulled three fingers out of him.
“Of course, baby,” Davy replied, the smile on his face audible in his voice as he rubbed the remaining lubricant on himself, coating his cock with more than enough before he lined up with Peter’s ass.
He took his sweet, sweet time as he pushed in, having to hold himself back from jackhammering right into his lover as he moved. Peter was letting out the softest mix of gasps, cries, and moans as Davy moved, letting him know he was doing it exactly right.
Once Davy bottomed out, he stayed still, his hands tight on Peter’s hips and his breathing slightly ragged as he waited for Peter’s go-ahead.
“Please, move, please,” Peter half begged once everything in his body has shifted from uncomfortable to pure pleasure.
Peter had forgotten just how perfect Davy was at this, just how wonderful he was at giving Peter exactly what he wanted. His cock was the perfect length to brush his prostate with every thrust and thick enough to stretch him out in all the right ways.
They both quickly fell into gasping, moaning, blubbering messes as Davy pushed his hips faster and faster, leaving them both teetering on the edge of orgasm.
It had been far too long since they’d been together, far too long since they’d share such intimacy and both of them were aware of just how powerful they were about to finish.
“Ah, close,” Peter whined out as he buried his head in his arms, feeling the world start to spin around him as he lost all control of himself.
“Me too,” Davy mumbled back as his hips grew more and more erratic, his thrusts growing short as he worked to bring them both to their highs.
And like magic that only pornography seemed to experience, they came together, Peter shooting white, hot ribbons across his chest and the sheets while Davy filled his tight ass up with his own load. For both of them, their vision flashed white, unable to focus on anything as they could only concentrate on the feeling of euphoria that washed over them.
They rode out their aftershocks together, Davy giving a last few feeble thrusts before he pulled himself out, reaching for the box of tissues on his bedside table before he near-on collapsed down onto the bed.
With their breathing heavy and their hearts racing the worked to clean themselves up, making it a much more comfortable experience to lay down together. Once they were cleaned off enough, Davy threw away the used tissues and moved the box back to its rightful home before pulling the sheets up and gesturing for Peter to climb under.
They quickly found themselves cuddled up together, Peter the small spoon, just like the old days, and Davy holding onto him like letting go would cause the world to explode.
“I’m glad I ran into you tonight,” Davy mumbled against Peter’s neck in between featherlike kisses against his soft skin.
“I’m so glad you found me,” Peter replied, squeezing Davy’s hand gently as he spoke.
Before they knew it, they’d fallen asleep together, just like those few and far between nights they’d gotten back during the show, the nights only they would ever know about and the nights that they now might be able to bring back. Morning afters, too.
Hello darlings! I am delighted to announce that HGE - Riptide is a BRAND NEW SERIES! One of several launching this month! For those of you who have hunted through my Amazon page, you may notice that this shares a title with my oldest novels, which are no longer in print. This is because they sucked and I mostly pretend they don't exist. HOWEVER! The stories were cool, and I want to share them. So here they are, rewritten and relaunched as a series!
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The water was dark. Shadowy stone formations filled the cave like teeth written in shades of white where Evan’s light hit them, fading to deep, gem-blue, to black. The cave closed around him, and he focused on the line in his hands. The safety line that was his guide and god while he did a job that routinely killed anyone who got the slightest bit careless, and many who didn’t.
But that was the job, acting as the deep, underwater hands of the archeologists waiting on dry land high above.
READ THE WHOLE STORY FREE ON PATREON!
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HGE - Riptide
Evan Ross survived what no one before him ever has, and now he’s on the hunt for answers. His only clue is a single word that echoed through the water of a flooded cave.
Writing Prompt - Hogwarts holds mandatory sex education class with Ministry approved curriculum. Prof. McGonagall will teach the girls. Prof. Snape will teach the boys. (Established Universe)
[–]dingo8muhbabies
The great hall sat in stunned silence as Dumbledore made the announcement. The Weasley twins had been suspended for two whole weeks after their 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' disolving condoms had resulted in Professor Snape having to brew a very controversial potion for two fifth year girls in Hufflepuff.
Snape and McGonagall were going to be teaching sex ed. Ron and Ginny were both extremely red faced, and Harry later found out that this was because Mr and Mrs Weasley had been asked to help the ministry put together the course material. He supposed that after seven children, they were fairly well practised. He then shuddered at the thought.
As they made their way down to the dungeons, Harry was hoping that the room would be filled with dementors and Lord Voldemort instead, but Snape was right where he always was, wearing an expression that made him look as he had just swallowed a pineapple whole.
'Sit.' He snapped. 'I don't like this any more than you do, but given that your schoolmates struggled to keep their genitals to themselves we might as well get this over and done with.' With a look of distain, Snape did exactly as the ministry notes suggested and had them all write a question that they had so that they could be answered anonymously.
'Longbottom! You were not meant to write your name you foolish boy! But in answer to your question you must not use an engorgement charm on your private area or you may risk permanent damage.' The class burst out laughing and Neville ran out of the room immediately. 'No great loss, unless he finds a charm to impregnate his left hand I daresay he'll never need to know any of this' Snape said snidely.
The rest of the lesson was done as quickly and as properly as possible. They discussed contraception charms, wizarding STIs (much worse than muggle ones; exploding blisters, green and orange rashes) and options for unwanted pregnancies. Seamus recieved a detention for a very poor taste 'fetus deletus' joke.
As Harry and Ron left the class they were incredibly relieved that the worst was over. Or at least thats what they thought. Unbelieveably, Hermione seemed to be incredibly excited and they could barely say hello before Hermione started telling them all about the girls lesson.
'That was so informative! Did you know that witches can store their menstrual blood to use in fertility potions? Oh! And Professor McGonagal was telling us about protection charms that you can put onto your vulva so that anything that enters you without your consent will turn black and shrivel up.' They boys grimmaced and hoped they got to land a muggle girl their first time instead.
WP: Jesus is brought before Pilate. Instead of sentencing him to death, Pilate names him king. However, Jesus knows that he has to die, and he’s trying to change everyone’s mind.
The crowd was silent, watching, waiting. Pilate spoke, his voice carrying through the mass of onlookers in front of him. "A man claims himself the Son of God. People of this great nation, what say you to this?"
The Son remained silent, head bowed. He waited for the screams of rage, for Barabbas to stride confidently off as a newly-freed man while the Holy One was taken away in chains. A smile traced His lips.
There came a quavering voice from the back of the crowd. "Maybe 'e is? Son of th' God up there, yeh?"
As if by some strange miracle (not one that the Son had performed, certainly) the silent crowd grew even quieter. The scuff of sandal-clad feet could be heard on the rough earth as nervous attendees fidgeted.
"Is that so," Pilate spoke, his voice piqued with interest. Here. He would say it now. Jesus waited.
"Aye, that is so," Pilate answered himself, nodding, a jovial smile dancing on his lips. The Son glanced at him, bewildered. "We have seen the miracles," Pilate continued, "Water into wine, the leper healed. We have all heard the tales. Who else could this man be but the Son of God?"
What?
"He shall take his rightful place as king of this nation!" Cheers erupted with Pilate's words. The One watched Barabbas sputter as He almost did Himself. This would not work. He was not meant for this. For the people of the world, He had to die. Crucifixion was but an unnecessary addition of symbolism that He would have to forego.
"Barabbas," Jesus spoke, and the crowd fell deathly silent. "They name me King. I ask you this: Will you repent before me now, or shall you grasp at your sins like rotting fruit, so succulent on the outside, yet evil and dark within?"
That was all it took. Barabbas screamed with devilish, primal rage, breaking free of his bonds in a devilish furor. Jesus heard Pilate yell No as the Son was picked up, still bound, and thrown to the ground. The guards could not react in time.
Barabbas committed his final horrible crime just before he was speared through the back. He knew not the good that he had in truth helped flourish.
