The Snakes and the Sheep

This is a story I wrote for a friendly church competition (I am a Christian.) Sorry about the single-post length; it's a bit small for chapters, so you needn't read it through without the desire to do so. Its title is, 'The Snakes and the Sheep.'

Red was the sky, pierced by the parting sun, denoting a day’s denouement, illuminating in this light a large greensward, barred on one side by a large, craggy cliff, nearly engulfing the ball of flame sinking in the west behind it. The grass about was fertile, and a farmer, upon setting home in such a place, would undoubtedly prosper. But now there were several sheep. A great many of them, indeed, and their wool brilliantly white, a white indescribable by what words here vested, whose light alone struck power enough to blind that same farmer, shrouding them in their own aura of divinity. There was no visible shepherd to tend them, yet, by some unspoken will, they were still, as if governed by a single, omnipresent entity for the welfare of the whole. Each sheep comprised a fraction of the flock, and all were orchestrated as One. And they coincided, thus, in perfect harmony and serenity.
Then a stirring came upon the body, and select few quelled in terror, as long blades of grass about the flock seemed to dissipate to pools of viscous liquid, and stir into thick coils, lengthening, passing into the hideous form of venom-bearing snakes, whose hissing broke that sylvan peace held by the sheep, and whose eyes, bright as the light of the sheep were, could still be looked upon, black, beading, sharp, cruel. Their fangs were as long as they were sharp, both of considerable note. And their numbers swelled, and now the body of Sheep were an island, surrounded by Snakes. Their hissing was maddening. All of the stretch of grass was filled with them, pressing in huge numbers as far as the rock cliff, which crowned the stretch of grass, still illuminated by the red glare of the falling sun. There were snakes atop snakes, and no stepping space between them, a sickening slick blending with their hissing at the friction of their lank and menacing forms together. There was only the circle of sheep, without defense nor aid, yet entirely innocent in their right; the horde of snakes pressed ever louder, pushing further to the tight circle of sheep.
But a flame, deriving from the piercing sun, shot from the sky, long and mean, and struck, in a great, broad column, nearly as tall as the cliff itself, a great many snakes, who burned and shriveled, leaving the ground beneath them charred and brown, without vegetation. And the flames pulsed in a single breath throughout the horde of snakes, who seemed to recoil, but only the most scrawny amongst them shriveled as the first, and the rest were burning in a harsh ring of Divine fire, between life and death, and if their voices permitted speech, each would roar in their agony such maddening wails of their unending holocaust about them; their scales sunk into their bodies, their eyes lost sight and glint, they could no longer breathe: but they would not die, and this was, without opposition, Hell, that now surrounded the quite untouched body of sheep, hardly startled by that commotion about them, but gazing pointedly, each of them, at the cliff-top, apparently unmoved at the sight of the harsh sunlight. Black in this light, now, they could view their shepherd, tall and proud, holding his gently hooked staff of the trade in his masterful hand, and looking with gaiety upon his own sheep, regarding the snakes about them without start, but instead with utter disgust and lack of remorse. The shepherd’s voice rung out above the chaos:
‘The Age of the Lord is upon you; emulate My sheep; practice My will.’
And the blackened shape of the shepherd vanished with the sinking of the sun.
Betokhn Oyspruvn jolted upright from sleep, large beads of sweat rolling past his nose from his forehead. His breathing was not forced, but very heavy, and his eyes were red and strained, his eyebrows arched, and entire countenance laced in obvious shock and fear. Straw was resilient to fall from the palms of his hands as he left his slight straw mat, and peered about him. This broadest room of the House of Believers in Jerusalem was still, most at slumber, and a few roused from their rest nearby from Betokhn’s startled awakening.
The House of Believers was a place for those who took a Christian living, a practice very much shunned by the general public of the time. Jesus Christ was thought to be a false prophet, but his coming heralded Christianity, for it was there, in the House of Believers, where the term had been coined. Before Christ’s rising to Heaven, he had told of his Witnesses (the apostles) that he would return, and they should spread the good news of his reincarnation and return, and the word of the Lord to all. They were charged with this, and from that small body, nearly three thousand, in a collection of homes akin to this one, were gathered together, a single body, governed by the omnipresent will of the Lord. All of their materials they shared, and they pooled any money they had together; they split meals amongst themselves, and if anyone amongst them were in need of assistance, it would be given.
The starry mass outside had begun to vanish, with the lighting of the sky, seen through a window in the chamber, of the sun. In moments, all about Betokhn were finding awakening themselves, coming to -- stretching, yawning, greeting their companions. His wife rose beside him, still standing in contemplation of his dream; he had decided that, as all dreams were believed to be, the Lord, his motives unknown to Betokhn, had enlightened him. They exchanged smiles, and she observed a rift in his usual pleasurable greeting; looking about her feet at their three still resting children, as if to make certain they would not be troubled with the conversation that she knew would be pressed, she glanced back upwards, meeting again the eyes of her husband, still red and etched with fear.
‘You are troubled?’
‘I am. I shall not conceal it from you.’ There was a pause, Betokhn collecting his thoughts. It would be best, here, to be quaint, and so he was. ‘In the night, I believe the Lord to have brought upon me Holy Enlightenment, as all dreams are supposed by us to be, and now cannot decipher his will, nor if my thoughts are correct; and if they are, why should such a meager fellow such as myself be burdened with the personal Will of Our Father?’ He had blanched without falter, now, and after having spoken this, pressed his eyelids tightly together, released them, fervently looked about at his fellows (that stare of concern) and crossed quickly over several slumbering bodies to one of the room’s four broad, wooden walls; he supported himself against it, and allowed a pool of perspiration to gather about his lower nose and upper lip, where his clean-shaven countenance told of his inner turmoil.
His wife had followed by his heels. In a pressing, hushed voice, in some attempt to gather the wits of her husband, she spoke; ‘Do you doubt the intentions of our Lord? We are mortal beings, placed on Earth to prepare ourselves for his realm after our parting from this world for which he has created for us. His methods perhaps are unclear to us, but we should not set up query for them. Whatever message was delivered to you in the night, it was meant so.’ A pause. ‘If it does not bait trouble, what did your vision entail?’ This brief speech did nothing to soothe the nerves of the fretful Betokhn, but for the benefit of his loving wife, he stood as erect as he could manage, and related to her his tale of the burning field of Venomous Snakes coiled about the Divine Sheep, and the message of their Shepherd to him.
To them both it was clear the meaning of the vision; it was why their lives were lived as missionaries, spreading the word of the Lord amongst all who would bear tide to hear it. The time of Christ was passing to Earth, and any disbelieving mortals would be dispelled to Hell. The urgency for repentance was great in the sinful body upon Earth, and now Betokhn was asked to offer for the cause more initiative, more urgency.
His heart was heavy; the Roman government of Jerusalem had already brought to death several martyrs who had passed themselves before the Sanhedrin of the city representing Christ. They were determined the message of his being brought to life from death, his rising to some heaven beyond any human tellings, was absolutely ludicrous, and simply propaganda for an up-rise to unseat them. They would stone to death any such fools. The Christians were given leave to Solomon’s Colonnade, for it there was public, and the Sanhedrin could not by law dismiss them; but any singularity found along the streets preaching these things would be brought to them promptly. Only those who sought for healing or for money would ever cross to their meeting place on the outskirts of Herod’s Temple, whose walls of pale stone shone golden nonetheless, and they would receive what they had requested, and would find the way of the Lord themselves. But none else would dare venture forth. They would not afford themselves to be seen in public eye as fools to believe lies spread by mad and raving men. Their mortal dignity was more valued than a fate resultant of an unending burning and torture in another plane, more fabled of by these men, which merits no mention here. Thence, the group of Believers remained concise, with no influential voice to speak for them, or gather the boldness to cry to those in the marketplace, where greater crowds gathered. No; the Sanhedrin would likely find no guilt of dissimulation in a rich merchant, for then they would be shunned by the public.
The Lord’s message to Betokhn, however, seemed to urge him to step beyond his safety of the Colonnade. He could only wander if those felled before then had received a similar vision. The Lord’s will would not be ignored. He had meant Betokhn to accomplish whatever it was that the vision would drive him to do, and if he refused it, the Lord would continue, not in tantalization from freedom, but in grim urgence, simply stating his superiority, and prompting him to complete his will, for the wellbeing of all. His creation was loved, but those who turned from him would be made to suffer, and this God would not favor.
The cavernous room had been nearly cleared during this infusion of thought by Betokhn and his wife, and flecks and grains of dust wafted gently from the ceiling high above, a thatched roof, revealed in the light of the early sun. A few remained behind, kneeling at their mats in prayer, and now three children, standing from their knees, crossed the room to their parents, whose faces seemed to tell of fear and of worry. Seeing this, Betokhn and his wife came to silent tacit, and ushered their offspring away towards the doorframe, and out into the new day.
The sky above was blue, infrequently mixed with pale shredding clouds; but the sun was reveled in its entirety; Jerusalem was in heat. The collection of Houses of Believers were near Herod’s Temple (whose western side faced the city) and the three proceeded east, along a tightly-packed dirt road, a few wooden market stalls set along the way, owners holding various flashing jewels and rich cloths as they passed by; there were mules tied outside other small homes, and what vegetation there was, there was little. Herod’s Temple was set away from the main market of the city, and thus was away from the bustle of it all, as well. After a few more minute’s walk, passing the similar scenes to those above entailed, the five could view spanning before them as far as their eyes would permit, north and south, a wall of tall pillars, reinforced on occasion by gatehouses (there were four on this western wall.) The stone was actually gleaming in the sunlight. The path faded into a great stretch of pale-colored ground, almost dark sitting below Herod’s Temple.
They came to the Golden Gate (this was the main one in that wall.) The pillars were twenty feet in height, and as they passed beneath the broad archway, onto a floor of shining stone, a second row of pillars could be seen bordering a massive court yard, the size of a quarter of the Great City. It spanned atop the same dully adorned ground further from north to south than it did from east to west, and situated facing the Golden Gate, in the center of the lot, was a mammoth temple complex, which in itself would serve as a sufficient city. There appeared to be several tiers of buildings, all clustered into a single unit; this was Herod’s Temple, constructed entirely of the same blinding stone its walls were fashioned from. Between the two rows of pillars (wrought of shining stone) before the temple, the family turned north, and made their way to the Porch of Solomon, which comprised all of the northern wall of the temple’s perimeter. Several others were drifting the same path; this was their daily pilgrimage, where the Believers would collect themselves into a single body, and sing praises to the Lord, and pray, and worship his name.
At Solomon’s Colonnade, Betoken flashed a brief nod to his wife, gave a cursory glance to those kneeling in the hall, some standing at the northern gate, ushering in the weak or poor, others raising their hands to the heavens, and a tear stung his eye. Blinking furiously, it retreated, and he wavered away from his wife and children, the latter of whom had not taken heed to his departing. At the House of Believers, it was agreed by the man and his wife that, after escorting his family to the Temple, he should return back to the main Jerusalem, where he would begin his public teachings of the Lord. It was not a choice easily come to, as it was invariable, with the number of those in the service of the Roman government, nearly, that he should be found guilty in such hypocritical acts, and would be tried before the Sanhedrin, who had warned their body several times against public speeches of such a nature, as previously detailed.
Betokhn retreated back along the barren ground, rejoined the dirt path, returned past the market stalls, the flashing jewels and greedy eyes, the flea-ridden donkeys tethered to withered trees outside dusty homes, past the several cavernous Houses of Believers, and heard at length a gathering hum of people below him, down a long slope which passed his straight dirt road, into the market. He espied a heavy throng bustling about a large square, a motionless fountain perched in the center, all marked with the same dirt path (but as a square) which he had been trotting upon. About the perimeter of the square solid walls of stalls, canopied white cloth roofs shading the merchants and their customers and goods within the open tents. Larger booths were near the fountain, and people shrouded much of the rest of the open space. The path, sloping gently down the earthy, loam-less, hill, found its way into the market square by a break in the skirting lesser stalls, and now Betokhn could discern several merchants’ backs, arms flailing in gesticulation to potential customers, tempting their wares before passing eyes.
He came at length to the opening in the stalls, and stood beside a stand, citizens passing in and out of the hubbub of the market. Glancing about, he hastily tried to make his own way through, but presently faltered with a sudden heart’s pang. He stepped back to the stall, and there waited, his breathing slightly agitated, his eyes distant and unseeing, despite their sight. The pleasant scent of salted salmon came to his nose, and he turned to see his wagon of refuge was rather clumsy in appearance, constructed of quick slabs of wood, with a dirty brown canopy stretching overhead. Beneath it behind its counter stood a short, stubby man, who wore a red beard, and was holding up a large grey fish tantalizingly before passersby. He lisped as he spoke, his voice hard and forced, yelling above the crowd’s bustle quite difficult for him.
‘Have thammon, you! Freshly caught, and thalted with care!’ He was now waving the fish at a hooded, pale woman, who appeared to regard him with contempt, and quickly walked by. He turned to Betokhn. ‘Hullo, there! You should need thume thammon. You look it!’ He pushed the fish before his downcast eyes. Its own dead eyes returned his glance, and remorse for the fish, now being whipped against the countertop, accenting the vender’s words, spread through him. To what degree had the fish earned its premature death? What right did this fisherman bear to kill it? What sinful body were about him? Such thoughts coming to mind, he pushed his way silently through the crowd, and to the fountain. Before his eyes passed a flash of his vision: hordes of venomous snakes, faltering in a burning Hell -- and a small gathering of faithful snakes looking in awe to the supremacy of their cliff top master, silhouetted against the red setting sun. He was a lamb, and those pressing about him were each snakes, lost in the woes of their own perpetual sin, perpetuated eternally in the domain of the Fallen Angel if they were not to right themselves before the Coming of the Lord, and accept him as the Creator, to which, indeed, he was rightly titled.
Betokhn began preaching, thus, the Lord’s will, instructing the snakes in emulation of the sheep, and practicing the Lord’s that same will. He knit of listeners had gathered about him now, forced into the bustle of the marketplace, some eyeing him with wonder, and others with questionable sanity, some with contempt.
‘You who surround me here -- listen! The Time of the Lord is upon us, and his son, cast into a mortal body on Earth, was hung on a cross by you people, and buried in a tomb. From that tomb he was resurrected, and returned to Earth, scars of his sacrifice for our sins still embellished in his ankles and wrists. He is risen now, in the Heavens, looking down upon us all. And he will return once more, and with his return, will be the denouement of the mortal Earth, and the coming of the Age of the Lord in Heaven, where all his believers will live for eternity; anyone who has not righted their path will fall to Hell, then, in unending suffering. Ere the rising of the sun this day, a vision had come to me, further impressing upon me the potent nature to which this must be concerned. A select group amongst our following have witnessed Christ’s rising, and will attest to his not being a false prophet, or another man, lusting for fame and for fortune. Your idols did not bring you life, they did not breathe from sand and dirt men! Your petty gods and carven images and statues will not bring messengers from Heaven upon his own creation to sacrifice life and shed deep pools of blood for the sins of his people against him! Listen, each of you; come to Solomon’s Colonnade, the northern wall of the Temple of Herod, and be amongst the Believers and Witnesses, and be saved! Leave your lives of sin, and malpractice against the Creator, and praise his name in song and in prayer. Leave all of this behind you; what you stand in now is preparation for life after this death, so says Father of Nations Moses, in his enlightened manuscripts of our laws. Be free!’
At this moment in his preaching, Betokhn met the eyes of a hallow-faced man, hair gray and thin, who pushed his way from the knot of people surrounding the speaker, and made out of the market to somewhere in the East. His eyes had been wide, but their depiction was unclear of either fear or greatest anger. He had preached further for about one hour, and the sun was now edging off into early afternoon, lengthening the ground’s shadows, and the market had become louder and thicker, when the sallow-faced man returned, two temple guards bearing armored vests, vambraces, and studded pants and helms, and each holding in one hand a long, pointed iron spear, walking behind him, and the man pointing an accusing, madly quivering finger at Betokhn through the gathering, heeding the guards that this was the lunatic and hypocrite who was preaching against the government of the people, and speaking of impossibilities, and Creators, and eternal suffering for all who refused acceptance to his cult.
The crowd parted in stead of the guards, and they shackled Betokhn without question, their faces stern and without emotion. One pushed Betokhn from the fountain where he was perched, and stationed himself behind him with a length of rough rope tied about the prisoner’s waist, whose opposing end was held firmly in the rear guard’s hand. A second rope was with the front guard. The elder man was slipped a weighty bag of coins, and slinked greedily further into the market plaza, eyeing the stalls with renewed favor. The guards took Betokhn to a prison just outside the temple walls, and here he would remain for the night. His cell was displeasing. No windows accompanied it, and as it was deep within the hold, without the light but of a single, meager candle, it was quite dark. A low, slim bench of stone pressed against one wall of the cell served as a bed, and Betokhn had made the corner across from this his point of relieving. No straw padded the stone bench, and the iron-banded wooden door was thick and serviced little air into the room, so that, despite the cold stone and chill air of such an enclosure, the resultant breathed air was severally-used, and thick, uncomfortable. He would be lead before the Sanhedrin in the morning, and they would consider him. Found to be guilty of what he had been accused, he would likely be stoned to death, or some equally displeasing sentence to his fall. But he would be greeted in Heaven. He had done the Lord’s work, and perhaps had brought the Way to previous people previously bathed only in sin, who now would be anointed with the Lord’s own water in baptism, and they, too, would be saved. Betokhn did not fear death. Kneeling at his bench, Betokhn prayed in silent meditation, asking for the favor of the Lord in the looming trial, and that his loss on Earth would not be wept overmuch by those whom he had made close acquaintance and family. But he only desired to bid his wife and three children fair tidings, before his certain death.
Betokhn had sat praying through the night, and was roused from his meditation by a guard similar in appearance to those who had taken him into this captivity, but in place of a spear, he bore a torch, magnifying his shadow against the wall, black and prone to disfiguration in the flickering firelight. It stung Betokhn’s eyes, but he did not call out, and accepted his wrist braces in peace. He was also blindfolded (for he was unworthy to behold Herod’s Temple, a sinner, and against the motives which had brought its building, as all those brought before the Sanhedrin in consideration of religious felony were supposed.) The Sanhedrin actually assembled in the Great Temple of Herod’s Temple, the heavily-columned building, the largest and highest, and the Holy of Holies was tucked furthest in the back of this building, where no member but the High Priest of the Sanhedrin were permitted. It is prudent to note, too, that the Sanhedrin were comprised of Jewish peoples, and they were devout men, as all who followed their example in the city were; they sought to obey God but had become spiritually blinded by their own ambitions sprouting new traditions not ever mentioned in Moses’ manuscripts, wringing what had once been a devout and God-fearing people into a Jewish sanction of their own, while still worshipping God, committing several sins against him in the act of it, as well as going against his word in numerous other ways. They were, albeit Jewish, sinners, no doubt, in the eyes of God, and were disgusting men. Even the high priest, the only to enter the Holy of Holies, turned a blind eye to this flaw, and found nothing but piousness in his composure, as well as those of his comrades in the Sanhedrin.
When the blindfold was removed from Betokhn Oyspruvn’s eyes, a magnificent, open court spread before his eyes. Its polished dark wooden ceiling was vaulted with iron shingling, supported by carven white marble columns, thick and towering. Oblong nooks in the wall of that same golden stone comprising the outer wall of Herod’s Temple found flickering torches chancing high in the room every occasional foot. The floor gloated a grand mosaic, something much too broad and vivid for Betokhn to make out at his present low perspective. Marble sculptures were lined along the walls as well, and tapestries of deep hues of purple and azure hung in their rear. Seated at a series of long, dark wooden tables, highly polished, sat a council of seventy-one men, crowned at the rear by a high-backed golden-wrought seat on a small marble stage sat the high priest, who was Annas. His family in the Sanhedrin, who included Caiaphas, John, Alexander, and others, were seated at the smallest table and nearest to him. Annas rose, his lank dark hair framing his clean-shaven, rather pudgy face; but nothing in his countenance reflected humbleness to the prisoner in his midst. His eyes were dark with contempt. He spoke.
‘You are brought before us as a defiler of the Jewish belief to which we all here are entitled. You have spoken openly in the market of falsehoods, witchcraft, and have presented severe threats to your equals. Will you admit to this?’
Betokhn’s eyes were set on Annas, unblinking, but he smiled, presenting him instead with the love of God. ‘I do not preach lies, high priest. You know well the people from whom I have been collected and brought before you, and you are well-acquainted with our cause. The Time of the Lord is indeed upon you, and you shall not doubt it, or if you do, when the Son marks his return on Earth, you and any who choose to march in your stead will fall to eternal burning in Hell. I do not speak lies, high priest, I do not wet my lips with a false tongue, for I have, since witnessing miraculous signs and wonder by one of the very Witnesses to Christ’s rising have set my path firmly in the course of Heaven and God’s will, and now myself have been given a vision, but two nights previous to this day, and now am without doubt that what I have credited to truth to be just that.’
‘The Jesus Christ you speak of was a false prophet, each of us are aware of this!’ The Sanhedrin nodded, and a murmur spread through it.
‘This Jesus Christ was and is none other than the son of God himself, the son mortally, but God, indeed, for the Holy Spirit cannot be broken, nor can his trinity, and he is everywhere, the Creator of all things, even you, so base as to not find truth in what we Believers determine to be so. For what cause would we forget any Earthly goods, including riches, sexual pleasure, the richest of foods, but for one that we confirm -- utterly -- to be truth? The Jesus Christ whom you brought to the Cross, whom you hung, died for you, died for each of you in this hall -- died for all of our sins, for our cause, for our forgiveness, and what now do you do in repayment but curse that shed blood on the ground, taunt him ‘King of the Jews,’ and then continue your sinful nature, cursing the sacred blood? Will you not see the way, you foolish man, each of you in this room, each of you so set in sin and so lost in your fabulous riches and fame that you are blinded to true immortality, and shifted inevitably to eternal sufferings?’
Annas stood, his face contorted in something far beyond anger, lips stretched taught, eyebrows furrowed, pale features flushed, and black eyes steely and glinting. His breathing was forced and hard. ‘You will reclaim these words with which you address me, Annas, high priest of the Temple of Herod! What mutiny is this? Who, a fool in your own right, surely, do you think yourself to be? If you do not enlist for services in this court, to serve me and the Sanhedrin as a fine, for you have confessed to what is firmly against our law, then I shall stone you to death.’ He stared. ‘Your family will also be killed. But, oh Believer, whatever path you choose, you will be saved will you not? What is that? Ah! your Lord cannot liberate you from this, can he? A martyr for a god who does not exist! Indeed you are a knave. Now come, confess before us the falsehood of your cult, and that its primal focus is to gain power and wealth, and to unseat the Roman government to whom you speak.’
‘I will say nothing of the sort. If what you claim is true of the Believers, of myself and all of my fellows, than our morale would have been lost with the death of Jesus Christ upon the cross. But he was reborn, and then risen, and there are witnesses of this amongst us, and now there are Believers, who will, upon the return of Christ to Earth once more, having his acceptance, be brought into Heaven, and all others will be entitled to suffering, unless you find truth in what I say, friend; for truth it is that I speak, and I detest your sin as much as the Lord God, which is great indeed, for he does not like the sight of his own creation turned against him, and the punishment that must ensue thence. It is falling to the temptations of the Fallen Angel which you must overcome, friend, which you must accept and deface. Then be saved in God’s Holy Water, and live eternally in serenity in the Heavens. This is all I say, be it death such forced death to part me and all of my family from this Earth, for all the faster will we congregate in Heaven. But, high priest, we may only hope to see you join us at a later time.’
Annas grinned. ‘Be it so. You will be stoned; you know your charges. Your family will be issued the same punishment, and all of you are to be stoned to your death. Perhaps, if your god is indeed as wonderful as you speak, he will turn you deep pools of blood into nicely fermented wine for us to enjoy.’ Annas resumed his seat, and gave a nasty snigger and grin; with the Sanhedrin glaring, and a few accompanying Annas’ grossly-exaggerated chortling, the blindfold was returned over Betokhn Oyspruvn’s eyes, and he was ushered back to his dark stone cell.
Betokhn Oyspruvn, his wife, and his three children, each died in the name of Christ Jesus, in the name of God, and were martyrs. They met again in Heaven, and worshipped the name of God. They died in the name of God, and for their want to bring others to the Love of the Lord as they had. The war still rages today, but the Lord’s return to Earth is imminent. There are only snakes and sheep, and nothing comprising both. The return of the Lord is neigh.