"Jolie Howard - I Am Not Judas" - читать интересную книгу автора (Howard Jolie)

All pretended not to notice me -- except the soldiers. They
noticed me
completely. They hoped I was a harlot and the red of my lips
was rouge,
signifying my speciality in fellatio. They were right, and
they were wrong. I
was a whore, and I was willing to please in any way…

    
But the red of my lips is the blood I sipped from the wounds
of the crucified
to avenge my loss at his hands, by his words.

    
The guards, one by one, had taken me aside. I was richer by
a few copper coins
and they allowed me closer to the crossties for my favors.
My real treasure was
watching the hope pass from the dark brown eyes as it became
clear to even him
that he would die as a man.

    
His eyes came to light on my face and I rejoiced in the

recognition.

    
"You," he groaned, too quietly for the others to
hear.

    
I nodded and smiled, before the soldiers motioned me farther
away.

    
In the end, he just died. No intercession from a heavenly
power, no miracles
like ones he'd performed for others, nothing came except
death. Ending his pain
- not mine.

    
In the hovel I called home, my cousin waited. I kissed the
red-rimmed eyes and
bathed his swollen grieving face with cool water.

    
"He is dead?" he asked.