Bible Dramatizations Book 3: A Collection of Short Stories

By C. J. Korryn

This book series is a collection of short fiction stories based on Old Testament and New Testament Bible accounts such as the wicked servant and the poor widow that Jesus points out to his disciples.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. J. Korryn Books
• Release date: May 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781732479784

C. J. Korryn

This is an author bio lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.

Book preview

Published by:

C. J. Korryn Books

****

©2020 by C. J. Korryn

****

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Sections 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior written permission of the publisher. Requests to the publisher for permission should be addressed to [e-mail].

Visit C. J. Korryn’s website for more of his books.

https://www.cjkorryn.com/books

Review

Please leave a review of the book on Amazon or the store website that you purchased the book on.

A Prodigal’s Journey

Amos crouched low behind a cluster of bushes alongside the main road out of the city as the caravan passed by.

It was dark, and the moon hung not even at a half crescent, and he could barely see in the low light of the towering tree trunks that once teemed with leaves.

It was odd, he thought, that although there were no leaves to block the moonlight, the trees still managed to make visibility low.

This time of year, normally, the forest he crouched in now would have been flourishing with brush and animal life. There had been a drought now for over a year, however, and now the once lush forest contained little more than skeletons.

For as far as the eye could see, the forest was dead. Skeletal remains of trees with their dark, empty branches reached out over the horizon as if grasping for one final breath before they finally passed. Littered across the once green forest floor now lay the brown remains of dried, harsh, crusty grass that glided across the cracked dirt with every breeze.

The only living plant life among the vast forest were clusters of small bushes, still clinging to life. Their leaves brown and dry, but not yet fallen off, they spread out in a crispy expression of dying hope as they wilted toward the ground as if they were tired of living.

Amos watched as the caravan plodded by with thin mules and half-filled stores in their wagons. He waited until the last wagon had passed and the wagons before it rounded the path before making his move.

It was good that he could see so little, he thought, as it meant that the caravanners could see just as little.

He jumped out from behind the dying bush and darted toward the wagon as fast as he could.

Seconds later, he was inside the transport crawling to the darkest corner he could find. He leaned against the wagon wall and immediately sat back up. The wagon rocked and bounced, jarring his back against the hard wood.

He scanned the wagon for anything he could use to brace himself. It was almost impossible to see anything in the shadowed covered wagon, but he could smell the grains, and so he knew there had to be some grain sacks somewhere that he could use to brace against and soften the jarring bouncing of the wagon.

He crawled painfully on his knees. Every bump in the road pounded on his knees, and he felt every tiny imperfection in the wood under him as the jarring floorboards slammed into his knees over and over and over.

He felt every dark shadow in the almost nonexistent light until he felt the unmistakable hemp sack. Course, dry, and scratchy on his palm, he knew he had found it.

He leaned close and sniffed a long, deep sniff. The sweet smell of barley was unmistakable. It wouldn’t be his first choice, but he was hungry.

He felt his way to the top of the sack and opened just a small corner, scooping out a handful and tossing it into his mouth.

He ignored the dryness and bland flavor. It would at least nourish him until he could find a proper meal—if he could find a proper meal.

He felt around for more bags, finding one bag stacked under the barley he had opened and another next to it. It was only half a bag, and he could tell just by the feel of the large chunky size of the grain that it was not barley.

He leaned close and sniffed again. It was hard for him to determine what exactly he smelt, as several scents wafted into his nostrils.

He decided that he would try whatever it was in the sack, and opened it, quickly discovering it to be an assortment of nuts.

He spent the next hour enjoying old flavors and new flavors.

***

Amos woke suddenly as he was dragged from the carriage, his back erupting in sharp pain as it slid across the wood slats. Each tiny space between the wood pinched painfully as he was yanked from the hard wood surface of his makeshift bed.

Then he hit hard on the dirt