Godlessmonkey will be away from the computer for a month on a much needed holiday. While I’m gone I’m rerunning some of my multi-part stories for the benefit of those who might not have read them the first time around or would like to read them again. I’ll be back with new stories from October 16th. Thank you all for your support.
I can hear them out there. They’re searching for me. Why? I meant no harm. I came back to Earth to help them. They are my children. Why can they not understand? Has it really come to this in the last two thousand years? I suppose I should have grown a beard and dressed as I did back then. Would they know me if I did? Somehow I think not. My heart tells me this would not be the case.
Still, I must do something. My entire life here has brought me to this moment. I must reach inside and connect with my divinity and let it shine forth. Yes, that’s it. Like a beacon in the darkness. I must believe in myself before they can believe in me. The spirit is with me, I must let it out. Then they will see the error of their ways.
I will myself to rise up and walk out into the sunlight, toward the sound of the mob. I walk unsteadily at first, but as my will asserts itself and the love in my heart grows stronger with every step I’m soon striding with purpose. I round a corner and there they are, looking about. They see me and begin charging in my direction. I stand my ground and put my arms out to the sides in supplication, beaming all the love I have within me at them. As they come quickly nearer I address them once more.
“My children, listen to me, I beseech you. I have come…”
But they aren’t listening, and as the first of them reaches me I am knocked to the ground and they swarm over me like maddened ants, punching and kicking me. I dimly remember the last time. How very different it is now. I try to speak once more, but blood fills my mouth and I begin to choke on it. In the distance I hear sirens. As blackness descends the sirens seem to grow louder. Then I lose consciousness.
The patrol car pulls up and surveys the scene, quickly calling for backup and then the two officers wade into the crowd calling for calm and clawing their way to the middle to see what’s happening. Some of the mob are shouting angrily about the blasphemy they were subjected to, but the officers are too busy attending to the badly broken body of the man lying in a pool if blood on the ground to pay much notice. Finding no pulse, one of them draws his weapon and turns to the mob to ascertain who is responsible for the killing. Seeing the gun the mob disperses in all directions, the police yelling for them to stop, but soon they are all gone.
They turn back to the body searching for identification. Not finding any, they call in the situation just as two more squad cars arrive. They begin searching the areas for clues and in an abandoned building near by they come across the body of a dead dog, and near a wall, a backpack that looks like it hasn’t been there long.
Searching to contents they come across a diary and one of the officers begins thumbing through it. Soon his eyes are wide with disbelief and he calls over one of the others.
“Hey, Sam, come here. Get a load of this.”
He hands over the diary and the other officer begins reading. Soon he’s shaking his head.
“Man, this is weird. Whoever wrote this seems to think he’s Jesus Christ. Takes all kinds, eh? You think it’s that guy out there on the road?”
The other office looks at the diary again then glances in the direction of the body. “Yeah, I’m afraid so, Sam. I’m afraid so.”