The Short Memoirs of a Madman

Juicy. We will rip it to pieces. We will wallow in its blood.

  The surf crashed into the beach, bringing with it the thud of a boat striking land. Growling, we turned to see who this intruder was.

  Fishermen. 13 fishermen. Sharp ringing cackles repeated themselves in my ears. We will fish for them!

  Perhaps the pigs could wait. These group of foolhardy men were obviously unfamiliar with this area or they would never have docked their vessel so near the tombs. So near to the monster who lived there.

  We gripped the blooded spear as a growl rumbled deep in our throat.

  One by one the men stepped out of the boat. Some were seeing to the sails as others unloaded a net so that it could be laid out to dry on the sand. They were all talking and laughing and not one of them seemed to have noticed us.

  We will show them our power! We will spear them like fish! Just watch and see how they will bleed!

  It was then that I saw Him.

  A groan shook my frame, rattling something deep and aching within, but such an open wound immediately drew the attack of the vengeful spirits and caused a roar to escape in its stead. Despite their attempt to silence the swell, I felt an urge to run to this man. I twisted back and fell into the sand as They hissed and clawed inside of me, making me regret that desire. But for the first time I felt a strange sensation coming from Them...fear.

  They stood me up, neither I nor them, being pulled willingly towards the docked boat and the group of men still around it. There was another force at play here, one that They could not counteract.

  We were steps away when one of them noticed us. His eyes grew wide and he pointed our way. The group turned. They all stood frozen watching as we approached, a naked and grizzled madman. All but one. His dark eyes saw past us, they saw me, and they were filled with compassion.

  “Come out of that man, demon!” He ordered and every foul spirit within me shuddered violently.

  We fell prostrate, “What have I to do with you, Jesus, Son of the most high God? I beg you by God, torment me not!”

  “What is your name?” He demanded.

  “Legion. For we are many.” The voice was cavernous, but unlike in times past when it was mocking and cruel, this time it was pleading. We crawled forwards on our knees, graveling at this man’s feet. “Do not make us leave this country. Let us stay! Let us stay!”

  “Enough! Be silent.”

  They cowered.

  “You will leave this man.” He said again, and Their hold lessened. I could feel Them being pulled away from me. Their fingers clinging tighter in desperation to the puppet strings they had held for so long, but They were no match for the Master.

  “Please, Lord! Let us stay in this country!” They shrieked frantically, and I could feel their panic. “See the herd of swine? May we enter into them? We beg of you! Do not send us to the pit before our time!”

  “Be gone then!” He waved his hand and They released me. My limp body crashing into the sand.

  The herd of pigs began to squeal as if taken by madness, their cries echoing down from the hill they roamed to the beach below. The herdsmen shouted in disbelief and terror as the entire herd ran wildly down the hill to throw themselves from the cliffs into the sea.

  I cowered in the sand panting for breath. For the first time in many years my mind was my own. I knew for certain that it was only due to this man. This man that the demons had trembled before and had submitted to as Lord of all Creation. I knew this, for I had known Them too long not to be well acquainted with Their moods, Their feelings. I had heard every lie that They had slithered into my mind, but They could not deny the Truth when it stood in the flesh before Them.

  This man was God.

  I could not lift my head for fear of Him. But I did not have to.

  “Do not be afraid.” He tilted my chin so that our eyes met. “You are free.”

  A rustling of gentle words suddenly moved within the chasm that had been so vilely filled, but now lay empty, within my rib cage. Will you choose Me as I have chosen you?

  “Master.” I whispered in awe of Him, knowing somehow that it had been Him speaking not to my thoughts, but to my very soul. Offering something that I could dare not hope for, but what I wanted more than anything.

  “Give him a coat.” He said, turning to one of the other men who quickly fumbled with a bag left in the boat. He returned with an old coat and sash, holding it out to me with a look of unmasked curiosity.

  I shakily reached out to take it, but He stopped me with an amused smile. “Perhaps a bath is in order first?”

  I looked down at my mud caked body and began to laugh –to laugh!– at the sight. The group began to laugh as well, all amazed and overjoyed at what they had witnessed.

  Immediately I waded into the sea and began to scrub away at my body. It was then that I noticed the scars and wounds that had marred my skin were completely gone! I shouted in uncontainable joy and exaltation, splashing water around me like a rambunctious child while laughing and jumping at the sight of every rainbow sparkling in the descending droplets. If one of my countrymen could see me now they would have thought I was still mad. But this madness was entirely different, it was freeing! It was exhilarating!

  By the time I was finished bathing, the fishermen had lit a fire further up the beach and were roasting their catch over it. They invited me to join them and I awkwardly sat down feeling out of sorts amongst their group. The woolen tunic they had given me itched a bit and I began to squirm when I considered just what these men must think of me. What He must think of me.

  “You are rather quiet.” Jesus said.

  “Forgive me, Master.” I lifted my gaze and caught a thoughtful smile as it passed over His face. “I am not used to being in the company of men. Especially someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?” He asked and He glanced at the men around Him. “And who am I?”

  “You are God!” I gasped out. “You make the strongest demons flee!”

  “No demon is stronger than the Father. All creation is subject to Him.”

  “I now believe it!” I nodded enthusiastically. “I believe it!”

  “How did you come to be in such a state?” One of the men asked. He was a burly fellow, with skin darken from the sun and a boldness in his mannerisms.

  I hung my head in shame, unsure how to explain, because I honestly couldn’t remember when the curse had come upon me. Had it been two years? Three? Ten? It seemed as if a lifetime had been lived bound under Their control.

  “You no longer need to be ashamed. Your past is forgotten. Your sins are forgiven.” Jesus’ voice chased away the doubts that had risen up in my chest and filled me with hope. “Through Me you can live in freedom.”

  They sat and talked with me for an hour. The crackling fire, the lapping waves against the sand, the salty breeze that blew over my freshly washed skin, it was so refreshingly different from the life I had been living that it felt as if I was experiencing it all for the first time.

  I would have gladly set with them for days, reveling in their company, drinking in every word and story told by the Master, but our time together was interrupted much too soon. Angry voices carried themselves from the roadway and I turned to see a large group of men from the village approaching. They pointed and shouted, already casting blame for something. I glanced nervously at Jesus, but He didn’t seem to sense the animosity that was being aimed His way, or if He did, it didn’t worry Him.

  “You! Where have you come from?” A large man with a scraggly beard demanded, his beefy finger pointing at Jesus accusingly.

  “From Galilee.” Jesus replied calmly, watching them with interest.

  “Our herdsmen claim that you lot are to blame for the death of our livestock. What did you do? Did you cast a spell on them to send them plummeting into the sea? Is your purpose in coming here to make mischief?” The man was talking so forcefully that spittle f
lew from his lips. “If that is the case, we will be sure to show you mischief of our own!”

  “Do you know just who you’re speaking too?” The burly man, who I had learned was named Peter, jumped up from where he was sitting with a hard frown marring his features, his hand twitching as if ready for a fight. “This is Jesus of Nazareth!”

  There seemed to be a rumble of whispers rise within the mob. They had heard of this Jesus.

  “Are you truly, Jesus, the man so many are calling a prophet?” They questioned.

  “I am.”

  It was then that they noticed me sitting by watching the exchange. Some gasped, others took a step back in astonishment.

  “Benjamin?” I heard one question in disbelief.

  “Timothy!” I stood quickly seeking out the owner of the once familiar voice. My eyes latched onto the sight of my brother-in-law who remained at the back of the gathering looking nervous. “Timothy! Look at me! I am healed! The demons who have tormented me for so long have been cast into the pigs by Jesus! He has freed me from them!”

  “You claim that He has the power to control the spirits? What sort of man is this?” The large spokesman was incredulous, but when two of the swine’s herdsmen stepped forward to confirm seeing Jesus cast the demons into the herd of pigs, the crowd that had been filled with indignation upon its arrival wavered into a fear driven madness.

  They all turned to Jesus, begging, even demanding that He leave the country immediately. It reminded me of the Legion,