A Gift To Die For

By
Dave Cook

Jasmine filled the air as I followed the narrow trail into the valley. The stillness of the night disturbed only by the gentle beat of my sandals as they tip-tapped over the rocky terrain. High in the sky, broken clouds drifted aimlessly over a sickle moon. Despite the darkness, I moved easily, for this was an all-too familiar journey. The difference tonight was that at last I dared to dream, of the future... not just for myself, but for my loved ones.

I reached the valley floor and entered a small clearing. The locals called this place Journey’s End. It marked the beginning of the most feared place on earth: the local leper colony. There was no physical boundary because none were needed. Only a madman would enter this place of his own free will. Tonight, that madman was me.

To my left, atop a pile of rotting waste, a writhing mass of thick, furry-bodied vermin turned my way. As one, they glared at me with hate-filled eyes. Our towns and villages are plagued with these loathsome creatures, yet they are tolerated in the colony. Though dirty and hideous to look at, they make a welcome source of nourishment when other food is scarce.

I yelled and clapped my hands, and with a twitch of whiskers they were off, scurrying and leaping over each others backs as they disappeared into the night.

Then I headed for the cave where I knew the elderly and most of the women and children sheltered at night. Finding myself on unfamiliar ground, my pace slowed as I tried to avoid the few, sorry souls that chose to sleep outdoors rather than face the claustrophobic confines of the cavern.

Here and there, I came upon a solitary figure lying beneath a bundle of rags. Others huddled in small groups, seeking warmth and kinship among the similarly cursed. As I drew near, one or two of the more wretched souls cried out in anguish, though most simply lowered their heads in shame.

One woman, her face covered in open sores, looked at me with such utter hopelessness that I might easily have broken down and wept right there in front of her. But not tonight. Tonight, I had other things on my mind.

Reaching the entrance to the cave, I peered into the gloomy interior. The unmistakable smell of rotting flesh was everywhere. I gagged, then placing a hand over my mouth, tried to ignore the stench while I listened carefully for sounds of life. Sure enough, from deep within the cavern, I heard a strange buzzing sound.

I swallowed hard and in a voice that did not sound like my own, I shouted into the cave. “Miriam! Your husband is here. I have come for you.”

The words echoed around the cave like a thousand mocking demons. I stood my ground, though, and waited patiently until at last two figures emerged from the darkness. I recognized them immediately. Miriam wore her usual brown robe. A heavy shawl covered most of her face, behind which goodness knows what abomination slowly consumed her features. Only her eyes were visible and in those eyes I saw surprise, fear, and yes, even a little shame. Most of all, though, I saw the most beautiful, loving person in the world.

Limping along next to her was my five year old son, Joshua. Dressed in a similar fashion to his mother only minus the veil, because mercifully his face was still free from sores. I drew little comfort from this, however, for his alabaster complexion was one of the first hallmarks of the disease.

Joshua looked happy enough to see me. But unlike the Joshua in my dreams, he did not rush forward and leap into my arms like a normal five year old would dash to greet his father. How I wanted to sweep him in my arms; to feel his skin next to mine, to kiss and hug him with all the love I could muster. I felt sure that day would come, but for now I had to be content with my dreams.

Miriam pulled up a short a distance away. Even in the darkness, I could see her eyes sparkling with anger. “What are you doing here? Have you taken leave of your senses?”

I desperately wanted to tell her about the leper I had seen earlier that day. How I had listened to his story and seen for myself his miraculous cure of the damned. But we had so little time. So instead, I said:

“I'm taking you and Joshua away from this place, Miriam. Throw some things together for we face a long and arduous journey.”

“A journey, did you say? Have you taken leave of your senses?”

I cut her short. “There is no time for questions, my love. We must hurry. All will be revealed later.”

* * *

We headed north, taking care to avoid the most populated areas while I told Miriam about the leper. On and on we travelled, deeper and deeper into the wilderness until the terrain became uneven and bare. Our food ran out on the third day. After five days, we had barely enough water to last us until dusk.

My family was coping as well as could be expected. It must have been a huge risk for Miriam to leave the sanctity of the colony, though even she eventually agreed that it was a risk worth taking. Ultimately, Miriam knew that to do nothing would condemn both she and Joshua to a long and painful death.

We rested frequently because Joshua was giving us cause for concern. Compared to any normal five-year old, he appeared dreadfully subdued. His chest wheezed constantly, and because both of his feet were covered in sores, the poor mite could barely walk. Regardless of the consequences, I had taken to carrying him astride my shoulders for two or three hours at a time. To touch him was a truly wondrous feeling, and besides the act was not as rash as it might appear. After all, if Jesus really could cure the sick and infirm, then what did it matter if I too was inflicted? And yet, in order to partake in this miracle, we first needed to find him. Perhaps it was fitting then that - from his vantage point above my shoulders - it fell to Joshua to see him first.

“Look over there!” he cried excitedly, pointing to our right. “I can see a man with long hair and a beard. Do you think it might be Jesus, father? Oh, please say yes. Please say that we have found him.”

I peered closely at the distant figure. He was alone, and sitting with his head bowed and his legs crossed next to an open fire. His hands were clasped together, as if in prayer.

With renewed vigour we dragged our weary limbs toward this man of worship. Our approach was far from silent, and yet he chose not to acknowledge us until we were almost upon him. As soon as he raised his head, I sensed his aura. This man was special and I knew in my heart that we had found Jesus.

It was difficult to tell his age, though I suspect he was no more than twenty. His handsome features were both friendly and kind. Yet there was a great sadness about him that was hard to define. Never before had I been in such awe of another man.

I lowered Joshua gently to the ground and watched him hobble painfully over to his mother’s side. Then turning to the man, I said, “Forgive us for interrupting your prayers, but these are desperate times.”

Remaining seated, he smiled at us and said, “You look tired. Allow me to offer you some bread and water. It is not much, but it is all I have.”

“I think you can offer us more than that," I said. "My wife and child, they are... unclean. We have searched long and hard in the hope that we might find you. And now that we have, I am begging you to help us.”

“What makes you think that I can help you?”

“Because you are the man they call Jesus. And you have already cured at least one leper of the disease.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know because the leper told me.”

He looked disappointed. “And where did you hear of this tale?”

So many questions! I was growing uneasy. Why did he not simply perform the miracle and be done with it? “In the city of Carioth,” I said.

He nodded, as though the city meant something to him “Did the leper not say, also, that I wanted secrecy?”

“Yes, Jesus. But such was his delight at being cleansed that he felt obliged to recount the miracle to anyone who would listen. I was one of the few who listened, and I believed.”

He glanced quickly at Miriam and Joshua, and then turned back to me. “I'm truly sorry, but I am unable to heal your family. Bread and water are my only gifts.”

I was not expecting this. My heart sank, but there was also anger. “You cured an old man, Jesus, so why not my family? Are we not good enough? Do we need to offer you money, or perhaps something else?”

His eyes fixed on mine. “You would not understand.”

“Damn you! Damn you!”

And then he said a strange thing. “I have no wish to sound condescending, but try to think of it like this: God works in mysterious ways, but sadly we cannot hope to understand them all.”

“So that’s it,” I said. Though, in reality, I was more confused than ever. “You cannot really heal the sick, can you? You’re nothing but a fake!”

His face showed no expression, when he answered. “It is not always easy to understand the ways of God. It will help, though, if you try to look beyond your own circumstance.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that we must all suffer sometimes,” he explained. “I personally was told to seek refuge in the wilderness so that I might save the world from its sins. Yet now I must remain here indefinitely, and all because I took pity on a solitary leper who could not keep his word.”

I shook my head in frustration. Either he was talking in riddles or I was growing too desperate to understand his excuses.

“You must listen to me,” I said sharply, my bitterness rising to the surface. “Cleanse my family and I swear that we will not tell a soul. I am begging you one last time. Please, cleanse my family!”

But Jesus simply shook his head. “You will find no miracles here. Go back from whence you came and know this: our Lord has greater plans for thee.”

And with those words, he condemned us for eternity.

* * *

Joshua died two days later. To suggest that he past away peacefully in his sleep, though comforting to me personally, would be a lie. He died in appalling discomfort, with each short struggle for air growing weaker than the last. And when finally he breathed no more, both Miriam and I truly believed that our son was better off for having departed this cruel world.

We buried Joshua beneath a pile of stones, on the crest of a hill, overlooking a green and pleasant valley. It wasn't until the last stone was placed upon his grave before Miriam could shed her tears. My emotions, however, were taking an entirely different turn.

For a time we sat atop the hill, gazing in silence at the valley below. Each of us deep in our own thoughts, until eventually Miriam declared that she wanted to go back to the colony. And so we departed Joshua's grave, leaving it with heavy hearts, retracing our steps and making good progress since Joshua was not there to hinder us.

We reached the colony without further mishap. But even so, as we said our goodbyes, I had no way of knowing that it was to be our last farewell. In the days and months to come, no matter what time I chose to visit Journey’s End, there were always two or three of the more physically-abled lepers waiting to block my path. When I enquired of Miriam’s well-being, their reply was always the same. Miriam was happy and content with her life in the colony. She wished to forget her troubled past and wanted me to behave in a similar fashion. I was to go forth into the world at large and create a new life for myself.

I have tried to do that. I have tried to do that and failed. No longer can I dream of a future. To do so, fills me only with dread.

How can I forget forget what went before as though it never happened? Jesus failed my family when we needed him most and, because of him, I lost everything a man holds dear. Is it so surprising, then, that I now find myself despising everything that he stands for?

Miriam knew all this, of course. For she was aware of my spiteful, unforgiving ways more than anyone. No wonder, then, that after all these years, I still remember her final whispered farewell.

“Think not of revenge, dear husband. Think only of love. Your forgiveness will make the world a far better place.”

If only it were so easy. After all that has happened, how can I possibly forgive the man who killed my dream? The answer is simple: I cannot. But perhaps there is a better way, for I can shatter the dreams of many.

Recently, I have become acquainted with a small band of Christian apostles. It is my intention to infiltrate this group of religious zealots and work my way into a position of trust. I will bide my time. But mark my words, my day will come. The day when Jesus Christ, the son of God, discovers what it truly means to deny Judas Iscariot... the man who dared to dream.