21st Century Comic World: "A GOOD MORNING"

HAPPY EASTER!!

A TRADITION OF MINE THE PAST FEW YEARS IS TO SHARE A STORY I WROTE SOME TIME AGO CALLED, "A GOOD MORNING". IT IS THE STORY OF THE FIRST EASTER AS TOLD FROM A UNIQUE PERSPECTIVE. PLEASE ENJOY IT, AND HAVE A HAPPY EASTER AND BLESSED YEAR TO COME!

The light consumed everything. It was brilliant. It overpowered one's senses. Then, slowly, it faded until all was dark once more. It was still cool, early in the morning. The sun had not yet risen.

His eyelashes grazed the linen. "I was somewhere else...." He pulled the small cloth away, taking a deep breath before rolling the cloth into a ball, setting it to one side. The air was stale and unpleasant. Musty. It was all coming back now. He had been high above the crowd, looking down through blinding, horrible pain. Sweat mixed with blood poured onto the ground, staining the sand and rock below. Some people looked up, shook their fists and said terrible things. His tormentors laughed along with them. His mother stood nearby with several others, weeping. Helpless. Some spoke kindly, others threw rocks. He looked to the sky eventually, past the darkening clouds that gathered, crying out to the Father. He was filled with thirst, waiting for the rain. He didn't remember the rain, however. He had left this body by then.

He was elsewhere for a time... how long had it been? Only three days? It seemed like an eternity. "I'm back in the body now." His hands lightly ran over the wrists and assorted puncture wounds, touching the dry, matted flesh that had been ripped away from this body by the soldiers and their lashes. He'd been taken after the body had grown cold and stiff, and had been placed here before the corpse could be properly prepared for burial. His palms touched the rough, hewn surface upon which the body lay. Not much room here at all. Small. He wouldn't be able to stand yet.

He slid slowly into a seated position. They would be coming here soon. Today.

He had much to do.

He was thankful there was no pain. The burial cloth fell away, coming to rest in another part of the enclosure. He could heal the wounds, of course, but they too would soon serve a purpose, and so they remained.

His attention turned to the raised voices outside. Soldiers, no doubt guarding the entrance. Then, just as suddenly as they had begun, the voices stopped. All was quiet once again.

He wouldn't require this body for long. He knew there would be those who doubted, though, who lacked the ability to understand that the prophecy had to be fulfilled. Some simply lacked the faith to believe unless they could see for themselves.

Stone scraped against stone. Dawn broke into the tomb.