Sometimes Christian

The dirt road home was far from straight. It curved around hillsides, sloping up and down, disappearing from sight with every bend. It had been so long since Simon had taken this path that everything looked foreign and he feared that he had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Perhaps time had worn the desert down, scouring away at familiar rocks and landmarks, or perhaps he was simply not used to traveling in this direction. Whatever the reason, he found himself trekking back several times, hunting for landmarks that would confirm his road. Rubbing his face, Simon hesitated on the borders of his father’s lands, unable to move. How could he return? What right did he have to ask for even the slightest mercy? He knew his father was a forgiving sort, he’d even scorned the man for being too lenient at times, but this was different. Simon’s betrayal was deeper, more intimate and profound, and he knew it. And, of course, there was Bethany. He remembered her as he’d last seen her, bloody and...

Marcus could sense death in his house. He stood on the roof, hands clasped behind his back, watching the midmorning sun climb the horizon. It had been a restless night full of sick room visits and whispering servants as they rushed for water or poultices. Hours of pacing had his feet throbbing and there was a pinching between his shoulders that would not release. Still, he couldn’t permit himself to rest, not while John lay dying just below.   Taking a deep breath, Marcus traced the last seven years of his life. John had been five years old when his parents fell to illness, leaving him with no home and no family. Since the boy’s family had served Marcus, he’d felt responsible and brought the child into his home. It wasn’t long before the boy snuck his way into Marcus’ heart, filling his world with laughter and adventures. They’d built toy boats together and made up stories about a Roman Centurion named Mattias who spent his time quelling unrest throughout the empire. A ma...