The jeering of the crowd before him almost split his head in two. He sat in a stone throne his head lowered. Blood trickled down his face as the searing pain of the thorn crown ripped into his skin. He could not move if he did the deep gashes in his back would stretch and cause even more pain. The throne rose as four man picked it up from posts on each corner. He kept his head down and tried to ignore the crowd. This was for his people. He had to look. He raised his head despite his urge not to and looked out at the gigantic throng of people before him. They all yelled, some out of hate, some out of love. He just stared at them until he was walked out of the old town.
They had walked for about a hour. He was nearly drained of all energy as they set him down on the rocky precipice. The wind blew against them…driving the crown deeper into his forehead. He did not scream. He merely grit his teeth. He raised his eyes and they widened as he watched a group of men stand around a enormous wooden cross on the cliff. He closed his eyes knowing this was the end. Two men grabbed him from each side. Raising him by the arms off of the throne. They carried him towards the cross. His feet dragged on the stone ground as they reached the cross. Instead of laying him down they just dropped him.
The men standing around the cross slowly turned him onto his back on the middle of the cross. His feet were together on a foot rest at the base of the cross. His arms were straight out to his sides on the horizontal part of it. A enormous man came out from the group holding a stake in one hand and a mallet in the other. He looked at him as he kneeled down and placed the point in the palm of his ahnd. With such force the man slammed the mallet on the stake driving it through his hand and into the cross. He yelled out in agony but could not move. The man went around the front of the cross and did the same to his other hand. Tears fell down his face mixing with the blood. He sobbed as he stared up into the afternoon sky. His eyes began to close. He passed out from the pain.
A searing pain in his side had woken him. His eyes opened as he yelled out in pain. He looked down and say a spear jammed into him. He breathed in feeling the pain go through his body. He was now hanging from the cross. He was in agony. He could not take it. He looked down at the men under him. Trent Gein had been the one who drove the spear into his side. Dynamic Dynamite was trying to tie the cross down. Enforcer was the huge man who had drove the stakes into his hands and feet. He looked down at them death taking a hold of him.
Trent- Go to your father then.
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He sat bolt upright in his bed. His head turned from side to side looking around the dark room around him. His eyes were wide and his body was drenched with cold sweat. Was that all just a dream? It felt so real. He turned the lamp next to him on and gazed around the room. That was the most realistic dream he had ever had. Why were Gein, Dynamite, and Enforcer in it though? Did it mean something? He did not know. All he knew was that it hurt lik a sonofabitch. He sat at the edge of the bed and looked at the floor. He noticed something on his feet.
A wide black mark was on each foot. He reached down to wipe them off when he saw the same black marks on his hands. He raised his eyebrow and looked at his palms. They were there too. He jumped out of bed and pulled up his shirt. There was a huge one on his side. He began to panic. What the hell was going on? Some kind of stigmata? He ran into his bathroom and almost slipped on the slick floor. He grabbed onto the sink and looked into the mirror. A series of small black dots went across his forehead. A turned on the sink and tried to wash the spots off but it was to no avail.
He walked out of the bathroom and grabbed his phone near his bed. He quickly dialed a number and Cyren’s voice answered.
Cyren- Hell..Hello?
Raziel- CY! Something serious fucked up is going on!
Cyren- Wh..What’s the matter?
Raziel- I had this fucked up dream of being crucified and when I got up there were marks all over me.
A chuckling comes from the other side of the phone.
Cyren- Don’t worry man…it is only a lower form of stigmata. Go back to sleep.
