"Shhh, this is the area he was seen last year before He went to ground"
My brother and I stalked the woods slowly
Deep inside the nature preserve
The early morning predawn gloom all around
Eyes and ears alert for any movement
We'd already jumped twice this morning
Once it was a mama deer and her fawn
The other time it was a very grumpy porcupine
Which snorted at us as it waddled on it's way
Not much else stirring this morning though
But just as every other year
On this day
That would soon change
Last year
Seventeen people
Mostly teens on an Easter pilgrimage
Were slaughtered
Their heads cracked open like so many Easter eggs
Half eaten brains sloppily left all around
After all these years
He doesn't even care to eat all of them anymore
I think He has taken a joy in the killing
My brother thinks He may be deteriorating slowly
And this is just another indication of His slow decomposition
Almost two thousand years of yearly terror
He has evaded capture and death every time
It's almost madness to think we could stop Him
But we do
It's the tale we've been raised with
That someday
The chosen one will stop His reign
This year we made the pilgrimage
To Uzbekistan
About fifty miles north of Urgench
Where He was last spotted last year
We try to blend in with the other scattered pilgrims wandering the countryside
All hoping to catch a glimpse of him
Although most never will
For after He kills
After He gets his fill
He goes back to ground
And isn't seen again until the next year
I'm contemplating the lousy odds we have
When we hear the screaming
It's bloodcurdling
And it can mean only one thing
Jesus has risen once again
My brother and I pull out our Glocks in unison
And begin sprinting towards the commotion
Both of us eager to catch a glimpse of Him
To put a bullet in what's left of His brain
But the screaming stopped
Silence thick as tar dropped on us
We both froze
Ready for anything
My skin prickled with sensation
What was going on?
Where was He?
Eyes desperately looking for a glimpse of something
Guns at the ready
Then a rustle and a blur of motion
And my brother dropped to the ground
His decapitated head rolling towards me
I take one step towards him
Then I am gripped in a pair of vise like arms
There is a tickle of a beard on the back of my neck
Then Jesus' teeth lock onto my skull
Cracking bone
Oddly
The last thought I think
Is that of an old image of a protestor from the 1960's
Holding a large hand lettered sign
Which says
JESUS SAVES
My brother and I stalked the woods slowly
Deep inside the nature preserve
The early morning predawn gloom all around
Eyes and ears alert for any movement
We'd already jumped twice this morning
Once it was a mama deer and her fawn
The other time it was a very grumpy porcupine
Which snorted at us as it waddled on it's way
Not much else stirring this morning though
But just as every other year
On this day
That would soon change
Last year
Seventeen people
Mostly teens on an Easter pilgrimage
Were slaughtered
Their heads cracked open like so many Easter eggs
Half eaten brains sloppily left all around
After all these years
He doesn't even care to eat all of them anymore
I think He has taken a joy in the killing
My brother thinks He may be deteriorating slowly
And this is just another indication of His slow decomposition
Almost two thousand years of yearly terror
He has evaded capture and death every time
It's almost madness to think we could stop Him
But we do
It's the tale we've been raised with
That someday
The chosen one will stop His reign
This year we made the pilgrimage
To Uzbekistan
About fifty miles north of Urgench
Where He was last spotted last year
We try to blend in with the other scattered pilgrims wandering the countryside
All hoping to catch a glimpse of him
Although most never will
For after He kills
After He gets his fill
He goes back to ground
And isn't seen again until the next year
I'm contemplating the lousy odds we have
When we hear the screaming
It's bloodcurdling
And it can mean only one thing
Jesus has risen once again
My brother and I pull out our Glocks in unison
And begin sprinting towards the commotion
Both of us eager to catch a glimpse of Him
To put a bullet in what's left of His brain
But the screaming stopped
Silence thick as tar dropped on us
We both froze
Ready for anything
My skin prickled with sensation
What was going on?
Where was He?
Eyes desperately looking for a glimpse of something
Guns at the ready
Then a rustle and a blur of motion
And my brother dropped to the ground
His decapitated head rolling towards me
I take one step towards him
Then I am gripped in a pair of vise like arms
There is a tickle of a beard on the back of my neck
Then Jesus' teeth lock onto my skull
Cracking bone
Oddly
The last thought I think
Is that of an old image of a protestor from the 1960's
Holding a large hand lettered sign
Which says
JESUS SAVES
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