Excerpt for Killing Jesus by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Killing Jesus

Rowan Wolf

Smashwords Edition

June 2018


Killing Jesus

Copyright 2018 by Wolfstuff

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Smashwords License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.


About Author

This happened when I was twelve. I was there and I saw it with my own eyes. I know what happened. There’s no talking or threatening me out of this.

I have kept my silence since, all the way to this day. I have kept my silence all these years in order not to shame my parents, for I ask you: who on earth would have believed me? And for that matter, who will believe me now? My parents would surely have thought me deranged beyond repair and I would have shamed them greatly had I spoken before now. Imagine: to have a delusional son, how shameful. Seeing things.

You too will think me delusional and deranged, I am sure. Nevertheless, what I say is true.

I was there.

I saw it happen.

With my own eyes.

I disobeyed my father three times that day. That is what silenced me at first.

He told me to stay at home that day. Stay in the house, do not to go anywhere, he said, not even for bread or milk or to the well for water. He said trouble was coming. For my own safety, he said, you must stay inside.

He was a stern man, my father. He did not take kindly to disobedience of any kind, no matter what the reason. He would never have forgiven my defiance that day.

Yes, I remember it clearly, him telling me that trouble was coming and to stay inside and not to go out. It was not a suggestion; it was a decree. That is what commanded my initial silence, for how could I have told him that I was there and that I saw it with my own eyes when he had told me, specifically, and more than once, to stay inside that day, and to not leave the house, not even for water?

But now they are gone, both mother and, now, father. Aaron, too. A few years back. Now there is no one left to shame. Father left us this Friday last and I am recently back from laying him to rest. Mother died almost seven years ago now, in spring. I have no brothers or sisters. That’s why there is no one left to shame.

Now that there is only me left to shame, but shame means nothing to me. I need to tell for any shame, no matter how great, is dwarfed by the burden of seeing and not telling.


He was a short man. I remember thinking he must not be fully grown for he was not much taller than I was, and I was of a height normal for my age; well, perhaps I was just a little taller than normal but not that tall. But he wore a full beard and I remember wondering how could a boy have such a beard before I realized that he was a man. A boy with a beard, that’s what I thought at first. A bearded boy. How strange! Then I saw that he was a short man and not a boy at all.

Mother had left for the country that very morning. The early sky had promised heat and she did not take well to our dusty sun. She and Naomi, her cousin, they both left shortly after breakfast, mother saying it would be a very hot day. Even though I did not hear him do so, I now think it likely that Father had commanded her to go.

Father left shortly thereafter for the guards. But not before he told me to stay inside (three times, proving with his hands how serious he was) and he told Aaron, my uncle who lived with us then, to make sure I stayed inside the house and that he would be wise to do so, too (told him at least twice, that I heard). There could be trouble, he said. I remember it clearly, him telling Aaron there could be trouble that day. Father knew these things for he was an officer of the guards and I remember very clearly him telling Aaron that day that he thought there would be trouble.

They had talked about him at table the night before, Father, Mother and Uncle Aaron; Father doing most of the talking, while chewing his food like he always did, words hard to make out as his tongue was laboring at two tasks. His lips and teeth, the same. He told us there had been disturbances, only small ones, he added. Father never had big disturbances. The first had been a few days ago, in the afternoon, when the man had entered the city on a donkey and many people had gathered to cheer and greet him. Since his arrival he had preached some and agitated some and drawn the ire of the law. Now he had been tried and sentenced, and Father expected some trouble.

Purchase this book or download sample versions for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-3 show above.)