You hear a knock on your door and ignore it. A rhythm of knocks follow. You make no attempt to answer the door but mouth a prayer instead- that whoever it is leaves; Your hands are caught up in the cleansing of your dirty tunic and you are in no mood for a chatter right now. The angel in charge of placing your request before God seems to have left his duty post as your ears are now being battered by the succeeding reverberations diffusing through the house as the sound of the knocks reach a crescendo; the person seems to have lost their cool and makes your wooden door pay for your refusal to unlatch it. So you take your hands off the cloth you are washing and rinse them with clean water whilst fuming. Your hands greet the smooth texture of your garment as you dry them while walking towards the door. Who could want to see you so bad that they have refused to let your door rest for the past few minutes? You wonder if it’s the landlord again and his face pops up on the template of your mind. A chill runs through your spine; you are engulfed by shame as you remember how you lured him to bed the last time he came threatening to throw you out of his house. You had to, there was no way you could have gotten enough coins to pay your rent and you had no where to go. You are broke. You have nothing left; You have spent all your savings trying to get yourself fixed. You sold the land your mother left when she died, You even sold your late husband’s farmland and gave the money to the priest who assured you that his would be the last place you’d come for help; that once you make the sacrifice to Aphrodite- the goddess of love- the flow will cease. You wanted to believe him, you didn’t but you paid for the sacrifice anyway. That was five years ago and you haven’t for one second ceased being a fountain of blood.
If only God would take your life already, you can’t go on like this. A sigh finds it’s way out from somewhere near your rib cage.
“who is it? ” you howl as you approach the door- you are mad at whoever it is.
“Berenice ” a voice answers. You frown. So she’s the one hitting your door like her knuckles were crafted out of bronze. You are not surprised; she has the build of a man.
Berenice is an old friend who’s been with you through thick and thin, she was the one you had walked into the day you had finally decided to breathe life into your suicidal thoughts by hanging yourself on the tree downstream. Berenice had noticed your swollen eyes and pressed on till you gave in and told her about your death wish. She had walked you home that hot afternoon and had given you no chance to breathe the air free of her assuring words; she had told you everything will be alright, that very soon you’ll be healed. You hadn’t believe her but you had given her no reason to believe you hadn’t. That was two years ago and your affliction still has you in it’s grasp.
“Dear, I wasn’t expecting you ” you hug her and close the door as she enters.
“Is that why you want the skin of my hand peeled off upon knocking before you open the door? ” she shoots with annoyance, anger burning in her eyes.
“I’m really sorry, I thought it was my landlord ” You plead, hoping that would be enough to douse the blazing fire in her eyes.
“It’s okay. But I thought you settled things with him already ?” her eyes seem to seek the answer from your face – the anger in her eyes slough slowly- she gives you no chance to reply and continues ” Do you remember I promised to let you know when Yeshua visits our province? ”
“Yay, I do” you nod
“well he is now” she smiles
Your heart does three somersaults and a mix of conflicting emotions rush through your body: happiness; fear; excitement and shame.
” he’s in Gerasenes right now? ” You want to be sure you heard her right; You can’t believe your silent prayers have finally been considered by God.
You’ve heard a lot about this messenger of God, You’ve heard people talk about how he turned water to wine at Cana, the blind men he healed and how he raised Lazarus who had been dead for complete four days. You believe in him and you have anticipated this moment for a long time.
“Yes my friend, he is here. Do you remember that mad man down the lake?” she asks as though unsure about your ability to notice what’s going on around.
“Alpheus the craze ?” you offer
“yes him. Yeshua healed him yesterday, in fact if you see him now, you won’t even recognize him again ” she says, matter-of-factly
You give thanks to God in your heart and start thinking of how to get to see Yeshua. All you need to do is touch his robe; you believe strongly that that would do.
“where exactly is Yeshua now?” you ask Berenice
“He’s at the shore, I really don’t know how you’ll get him to notice you because the crowds there are much. Do you have a plan or something? ” she inquires, concern emanating from her face.
“I’ll think something up, let’s get going ” you reply as you start closing the windows.
“You won’t even change this garment ? ” she scowls at your raiment.
“Berenice, I’ve waited for this moment for more than ten years now, I really don’t care about what I’m putting on” You reply rigidly while wearing your sandals.
“Okay, If you say so” she gives up.
- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
You see him from a distance, you can’t really see his face but you can hear his voice clearly. You see a man kneel before him, you see the man’s face- it’s Jarius, the man who leads the synagogue- you cannot hear what he’s saying but you know he needs something important from Yeshua. He holds onto Yeshua’s feet and you wonder if this is about his twelve years old daughter who took ill two weeks ago. Yeshua pats his back and holds him up, he says something to Jarius and they start moving away from the crowd, Yeshua’s disciples following closely behind like chickens strolling behind a mother on the quest for grains.
“Are you just going to stand there like a figurine ? can’t you see he’s leaving? come on make your move now” Berenice pushes you forward. What would you do without her?
You tell yourself that you can do it, that all you need do is touch his robe. You start to walk towards him, increasing your pace as you see him move farther. You elbow your way through the crowd, you are pushed but you keep moving. You are pressed by people both behind and beside but you do not give up; You keep going till you get closer to him. You see his long dark hair now, his green robe is in view too- he’s before you now.
“Just touch his robe and be made whole ” a solemn voice whispers in your head.
“You fool yourself a lot, what makes you think touching his robe will heal you?” another voice says. You recognize that voice; it’s the same voice you listened to when you slapped that old woman who angered you. You are in this crowd today because of the curse she placed on you twelve years ago.
You will not repeat the same mistake, so you listen to the first voice. You reach for and touch Yeshua’s robe. It stopped; You can’t feel the flow anymore and you feel like a faulty tap that was fixed just few seconds ago.
You know you have been healed, he knows too because suddenly he turns around and his fixes his brown eyes on one person in the crowd; You.
- * * * * * * * * * *
Hey guys… yeah the story is an adaptation of the story of the woman with the issue of blood in Mark 5.
I hope you like it, drop your comments, okay? Can’t wait to hear from you!
- Posted in: FICTION