A 299 word piece I wrote for the Carrot Ranch Rodeo #2 based on a joke I heard once.

Gathering storm clouds obscured the sun as a small crowd gathered at the foot of the low hill.  The sky darkened, distant thunder rumbling across the arid landscape as the crowd spoke in hushed tones.

“Some say he’s the son of God” said a portly bearded fellow wearing a long brown robe.

A crooked shrew of a woman picked up a and threw it towards the hill.  “I heard he’s a dirty boy that likes prostitutes” she shouted.  The crowd grumbled their disapproval.

The man on the cross lifted his head, blood trickling down his face.  Sallow eyes scanned the crown and he attempted to speak.

“Speak up boy we can’t hear you” shouted the portly chap shovelling a handful of olives into his mouth.  A legionnaire moved towards him to hear what was being said as lightening again lit up the sky.

The man on the cross spoke again, his face contorted in agony.  The legionnaire stood for a moment listening then turned to the crowd as another stone landed at his feet.  The shrew of a woman elbowed an elderly man at her side.

“Stop throwing stones” she said sharply.

“Philip” shouted the Roman as he scanned the crowd.

No one moved.

He shouted once more and a young bearded man raised a hand cautiously.  The Legionnaire beckoned him forward and he pushed through the crowd as lighting flashed again.

He approached the man on the cross, pulling down the hood on his robe

“Philip” said the man on the cross smiling, life ebbing from his body.

“Yes my friend” he replied.

“There is something you need to know.”

“Please tell me” Philip said.

He mustered a final breath, his lips dry and his voice hoarse.

The crowd listened intently.

“I can see your house from here.”

Glorious – Daily Prompt

Flavius laughed as he took the long handled spear from the older man.  “Honestly, what are you like” he replied “you don’t really think he’s the son of god do you?”

“I’m not doing it ” insisted Octavio, thrusting the spear into the hand of the younger legionnaire. “You can do it, my sister has been going on about this fellow for some time and she will not forgive me if I start getting all stabby with him.”

Flavius laughed as he took the long handled spear from the older man.  “Honestly, what are you like” he replied “you don’t really think he’s the son of god do you?”

They both looked up at the bedraggled man hanging on the cross in front of them.  He really wasn’t having a very good day.

“And besides” Flavius continued, “do you really think giving him a bit of a poke in the side with a spear is any worse than nailing him to a cross?  You didn’t seem to mind a bit of hammering earlier”

Octavio shoved the younger man “Just shut up will you” he said rather annoyed.  The thought of his sister finding out about his role in this whole affair had him feeling rather on edge.

“You don’t know my sister okay, once she gets a bee in her bonnet about something she is most persistent.  No one saw me nailing anyone to anything, I just don’t want to be doing any stabbing okay.”

Flavius shook his head.  “I really do think that you ought to worry less about what your sister thinks and worry more about keeping that lot at bay” he said,  motioning to a small crowd that had gathered not too far off.  “They look like they might try something.  We had a lot try and rescue a chap a while back – one of the lads lost a couple of fingers.”

Octavio really didn’t think they looked like any bother at all and looked up at the man on the cross.  Blood ran down his face where the crown of thorns he was wearing had dug into his flesh.  “Listen mate” Octavio said shuffling nervously, his sister had seemed pretty convinced about this fellow.  “I really am sorry about this you know – just following orders and all that.”

The man grimaced and he turned his head to look at the legionnaire.  He attempted to speak, but could manage only a whisper.  “May I ask of you a favour” he said, his eyes dark and his lips dry and cracked.

Octavio looked around an noticed that Flavius was watching the people gathered some way off.

“If I can, I suppose” he muttered quietly not wanting to be heard.

“Will you give a message to my dad for me?”

Octavio nodded.  He did not intend to but it was the least he could do after nailing him to a cross.  The man on the cross really did not look in a very good way at all.  He grimaced in agony as the thick iron nails tore into his flesh.

“Tell him I’m still not tidying my bedroom…”


Something else?

Sparrow and Snake #writephoto


Fly me to the moon – Sunday photo fiction