The Other Son

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
The first of a series titled "Not Your Grandma's Bible Stories." They attempt to put modern clothing on vivid Bible stories. Here Damas is likened to many young men of today who only come to the truth when it is too late.

Submitted: August 17, 2014

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Submitted: August 17, 2014

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“Not again!” Demas groaned. He had not slept as his mind wrestled with dreams of the night’s horrific venture. Now, the intoxicating sound of prayers seeped into the walls and reverberated into every room. He tossed about on his bed attempting to drown out the vibrations which made him uneasy. This constant praying and studying the scriptures had become his mother’s new passion.


His mother, Anna, had always been a religious woman. Since the Prophet had come to town however the embers of her spirituality were fanned, igniting a fire that raged within her. She and two friends would gather early for prayer every morning and she went out to services every day to hear his teachings and to see the miracles. Demas sandwiched his head between both ends of his pillow as the fervent prayer of his mother’s shrill intonation lifted his name. Through the feathers he could hear her voice rupture into sobs.


“I’m not a terrible person, am I?” Demas contended with his conscience, but Anna’s weeping prodded his insides. They’d been close at one time when he was a child. Then, Demas did everything with his mother, even going to retreats on holidays. His dad, a pious man, had died when he was 5years old. Demas had succeeded however in suppressing the memories of their short time together in a cavity in the far recesses of his mind. His mother had never remarried and was consequently compelled to support him by working as a servant of an influential businessman.


Now that he was 18 years, Demas swore he didn’t need his mother’s consent to live his life. This ill-founded philosophy was the root of many problems between them and they often argued. He refused to work for his father’s family, though he’d learned their trade as a boy and proved very skilled at it. Instead he spent his days idly roaming the streets of their little town with Joel an older guy who made a living by conjuring up and executing illegal schemes. Stirred by the daily complaints of her son’s indiscretions, Anna endeavored to persuade him to abandon this companion but all her efforts proved futile.


“Enough already!” Demas yelled and threw his lamp at a wall. A bolt of anger shot through him when he heard one lady pray, that the devil be cast out of him. He dressed quickly, stopping only to note the dried blood on the palms of his hands. Storming out, he noticed the two ladies lying prostrate and wailing. His mother sat with a bottle of olive oil caressing his shoes as she had done his head when he was a child. She looked up at him and with teary eyes pleaded, “My son, please believe on the Lord and you will be saved.” Demas grabbed his shoes and retorted, “Don’t cry for me woman, it’s you who’s been deceived!” As he stepped into the street he was bombarded by the cries of an elderly man preaching, “Repent, repent, for the Kingdom of God is at hand!” Without reason Demas cursed at the man and ran off. His heart was pounding so hard within his chest he could distinctly number the beats. His friend Joel had gone into hiding and as Demas ran thoughts of his father clouded his memory and rained into his mind’s eye. This was not the good son his father had trained him to be, without noticing, Demas ran straight into a band of officers.


“Arrest him!” the Chief bellowed as they bound Demas and led him to prison. There, he was beaten and brought before a judge to confess. The previous night he and Joel tried to rob his mother’s boss but the businessman fought back. Joel stabbed him repeatedly with a knife, as Demas tried in vain to restrain his friend but he was too weak. Both men were sentenced to death for their crime. On hearing his plight Demas felt the weight of the world plummet unto his shoulders and he slumped to the ground, his heart abandoned him and his spirit shattered.


That Friday Demas hung on his cross. Joel hung to his far left and the man some called the Prophet bridged the two. Demas couldn’t shrug the feeling of being drawn to this Stranger. His mind involuntarily replayed all he’d heard about a God who was consummate love. In the distance he saw his mother weeping and the memory of her prayers gave him comfort. Gradually he began to feel a lifting of his load. His life was slipping away and he wished death to overtake him quickly but a voice spoke life.


Joel screamed in anger at the pain and taunted the Teacher as though He were somehow to blame, “If you’re the Christ save yourself and us.” He cried. In an instant Demas felt his eyes open as if he had awaken from a deep sleep, indignation arose within him and he chided with all the strength he had left  “Don’t you even fear God? We are under the same condemnation as Him but at least we deserve this reward. This man did no wrong!” Looking at the Christ, his tears freely flowing, Demas mustered “Lord, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.” Immediately Demas became engulfed in an awesome presence and he rested in a niche that seemed carved out specifically for him. He closed his eyes in peace and drifted off to the melodic words, “Yes my child today you will be with me in Paradise.
 


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