Lazarus
“Lazarus, come out,” said Jesus, extending his arms toward the open tomb. The crowd, smelling of shit, stood there, waiting. Lazarus emerged, covered in burial cloths blackened with blood and streaks of pus. The crowd gasped in amazement and started to dance. Songs rang out with shouts of, “Messiah, messiah.” “Why?” Lazarus wheezed, his voice barely audible through the burial cloths. “Lazarus,” said Jesus. Something was wrong. Lazarus looked haggard. “Fuck,” Lazarus screamed as he ripped off some of the cloth from his arm. Blood fell like rain as a scab reopened. Jesus remained calm but alert. The crowd behind them began to disappear as they went into Bethany to spread the news of Jesus’ miracle. “I’m sorry for your pain,” said Jesus. “You’re sorry?” Lazarus asked. “Yes,” said Jesus. Lazarus let out a psychotic laugh. “Why did you bring me back?” he asked. Jesus paused and looked at him, “My father requested it.” “I was with Abraham in a place with no...