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Short Crux stories

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Wragg said:
Bob has also reminded me of a story I wrote on Phlebas' Great Pictures thread some years ago.

With Bob's own Alicia pictures still buzzing in my head,

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this one, by Gallows Girl Amy:

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nearly caused what Apostate would call an overload of my limbic system!

The Final Kiss

It had been a long, hot day out in the fields. Adam was glad to have been the overseer, driving the slaves to gather in the harvest, rather than having to work through the field like the slaves, laborious yard by laborious yard, wielding a heavy sickle. Even so, he’d been on his feet all day under the blazing sun, never able to rest, for the instant his eyes were off them, the slaves would certainly coast to a standstill.

Now, as the sun was sliding down toward the horizon, the entire field had been harvested, the slaves had been returned to their quarters, and he could go back to his Alicia.

He smiled at the thought of her. Beautiful but highly spirited, you never knew what she might get up to next, and the gods knew she’d almost got him into several scrapes with the Roman authorities. She was always on at him to join the rebels, to get shot of these bloody Romans.

But why would he want to do that? He had good, steady employment, a master who he liked and respected; he wasn’t wealthy but his income covered his outgoings, even Alicia’s capricious tastes. He had a beautiful fiancé. Why risk all that? It scared him a bit, when she talked like that. He wished she’d just settle down, marry him, and have his babies. He decided to push her to a decision that very evening. He wanted her more than the whole world. She was his whole world.

He passed the brow of the hill and the city came into view, smoke from hundreds of fires drifting up into the still, evening sky. The familiarity of home.

He grunted as he saw that, yet again, he’d have to pass crosses on the road. They’d been empty when he went out this morning, so the crucified would no doubt still be alive, pleading with him to help him as he went by. He’d do what he always did, and gaze studiously at the ground, ignoring them. That was exactly where he’d end up if he did as Alicia had suggested – the Romans showed no mercy to rebels. Now there were at least six there. Poor devils.

Not looking at them was as far as he dared go in terms of defying the Romans. He knew that the Romans scourged the rebels and nailed them, naked, to crosses precisely so that people like Adam should look at them. Look, and tremble.

So, as he drew close to the city gate, with crosses either side of him, he took a deep and philosophical interest in the little clouds of dust thrown up by his sandals as he trod.

“AAAAA-DAAAAAAAMMMMM!” Her agonised, tortured scream cut into his soul like a serrated sword, tearing at the very core of his being.

“Alicia? Alicia!!! NOOOOOOOO!”

She was barely recognisable. Her body was covered in deep, red-raw welts. Ugly iron spikes transfixed her hands and feet to a couple of wooden beams arranged in the classic Roman crux style. One of the Romans had evidently placed a circlet of thorns on her head, an extra torture reserved just for her, and now her face was as bloodstained as her body. A sign above her head proclaimed her to be a rebel.

“Fucking idiot!” A passing carter swore, forced to swerve as Adam raced across his path to Alicia’s cross.

“Oi! You! Get away from that cross!” roared a roman guard.

“She’s my fiancé, you must let me talk to her!”

“Got any weapons on you?” Adam stood, his own arms raised, as the guard searched him. “Only for a moment, then.” The guard stepped back a pace.

Alicia hung on fully outstretched arms, taking shallow breaths. The effort of calling his name had utterly exhausted her. She gazed at him, tears mingling with the blood on her face.

“Why? Alicia? Why?”

The bloodied body on the next cross stirred. She, too, was female.

“My……fault. She….tried….to….save…..me. She’s…..my……” there was a long pause, before the final word, “sister.”

Adam stared. “Anna? Are you Anna?”

Alicia and Anna both simply nodded.

Then Alicia spoke, barely a whisper. “No…choice…..sorry. Please….Adam?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“One….last…..kiss?”

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As gently as he could, he took her battered body into his arms and kissed her. Her breath tasted foetid and foul, but he didn’t care. She returned his kiss, her dry tongue moistening as he caressed it. For long moments they remained like that, Anna and the Roman looking on, and then Alicia gasped, and her head rolled forward onto his shoulder.

“Alicia! Alicia!” He held her head up, but now the eyes that gazed back at him had no sight in them.

The soldier poked her experimentally with his spear. “Come on, mate. The bitch is dead. On your way.”

Something snapped inside Adam’s head, and he launched a furious assault upon the Roman. Adam heard the bone crack in the Roman’s neck, and Adam didn’t care as the Roman slumped to the ground.

He didn’t care when the other Romans seized him.

He didn't care when he was himself condemned to crucifixion.

He didn’t care when they stripped him naked.

He didn’t care when they stretched him out on a cross, he just passively lay there, awaiting his fate. And as the nails smashed into his flesh and bone, his agony was Alicia's agony.

He knew he had to suffer for long and terrible hours, but then he’d be with his Alicia again.
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Magnificent
 
This is a short story about St. Vivian, written by our friend Stepnash, I like this story, hope you like it too. The Martyrdom of St. Vivian
Vivian was a mature woman and although she was now nearly 30 years old, she was still a virgin having committed her body and soul to the Lord she served from a very young age.
Vivian was a brave and dedicated Christian and she had travelled many miles to a pagan country to fulfil her destiny as a disciple and spread the message of love and forgiveness.
Since she converted to Christianity as a young girl Vivian had often wondered if she would be called on to bear witness and whether she would have the courage to face martyrdom as many of her sisters in faith had done.
She was arrested while preaching and put on trial, she was given a chance to renounce her faith and save herself by marrying one of the pagan Lords but she refused saying that she was already betrothed to the one she followed and would remain a virgin until they were together in heaven.
The judge at her trial was amazed when far from being afraid she tried to convert him, he had no choice but to sentence her to be crucified at dawn, he also ordered that her last night would be spent in the soldiers quarters for their pleasure.
In the morning the abused and exhausted woman was clothed in a simple white shift and had a crown of thorns forced onto her head to increase her humiliation. Now with her wrists tightly bound, she was led with a rope around her neck to the site where she was to be put to death, deep in prayer with complete humility and obedience to her faith she offered no resistance and ignored the mockery of the crowds.
The execution site was on the edge of some woods overlooking a valley, the holy woman was stripped naked and by means of a pulley she was hauled up the trunk of the tree which had been specially prepared.
A ladder was erected and an executioner climbed level with Vivian's wrists and after fixing a sign above her head two large spikes were hammered through her wrists below the ropes.
Now with the ladder removed and no longer able to maintain herself in a state of religious ecstasy , Vivian screamed in terrible agony as the full weight of her naked body hanging by just the spikes through her wrists was stretched taught down the tree trunk.
Unconsciousness became a temporary relief but when she came round the agony had returned as the executioners had nailed her feet either side of the tree trunk leaving her intimate parts fully exposed.
In this position Vivian began to regain a limited amount of composure and managed to gasp out a prayer forgiving her executioners for what they had done to her.
The courageous woman had borne all this and suffered martyrdom rather than renounce her faith and many years later she became known as St Vivian. Crown.jpg
 
morten sigurdson said:
I'm glad because of this story. I was inspired by our friend XSO's Barbara of Nazareth, love this story very much and wanted a story like this about Vivian, but I'm not a writer and can't write stories. Now here is a story about St. Vivian, many thanks to Stepnash!
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Good work Morten...thanks to Vivian for the image. :)
 
morten sigurdson said:
I'm glad because of this story. I was inspired by our friend XSO's Barbara of Nazareth, love this story very much and wanted a story like this about Vivian, but I'm not a writer and can't write stories. Now here is a story about St. Vivian, many thanks to Stepnash!
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Thank's for the story MS, I enjoyed it a lot! I am also very glad that I could inspire you with my BoN story, hope you will produce more stuff in the future!
 
xso said:
Thank's for the story MS, I enjoyed it a lot! I am also very glad that I could inspire you with my BoN story, hope you will produce more stuff in the future!
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Thank you very much XSO, your opinion is very important for me. Yeas, I like stories, but pity I"m not a writer. Maybe soon will open a thread "St. Vivian"s Passion", there I will post this story, written by Stepnash. Also wellcomed any story about St. Vivian, if someone will write something. Also there are a lot of Photos of Vivian for illustrations on own thread. Thanks a lot for liking the story.
 
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