Judas Iscariot: Blinded By The Light

By James R. Womack

Judas Iscariot, the wanderer, the Judean, the traitor and a lot of worse things in the eyes of many. This story is a fictionalized tale in which Judas tells his side of his story. It's based on what is known of him from history and what is speculated by theologians and academicians. Don't be surprised if in reading this short story, you begin to wonder if it really is fiction or fact.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JRW
• Release date: Jan 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798223471776

James R. Womack

James Womack is a Deaf writer who writes mainly science fiction short stories. Sometimes he dives into contemporary shorts on touchy social issues. Mostly, he just likes telling stories that a bit off the beaten path.

Book preview

Judas Iscariot: Blinded By The Light

James R. Womack

Published by JRW, 2021.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

JUDAS ISCARIOT: BLINDED BY THE LIGHT

First edition. January 25, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 James R. Womack.

Written by James R. Womack.

Judas Iscariot

Blinded By The Light

JRW

James R. Womack

Copyright ©2021 James R. Womack

No part of this document or the related files may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Contents

The End

John Baptist

The Tarsus Terror

Encounters

The Dawning Light

The Beginning

The End

Since late last night, I had stumbled around in the olive grove bordering an adjacent vacate field. Racked with grief, self-loathing at my stupidity and my arrogance. I infrequently fell upon my knees, sometimes falling fully prone upon the ground. Done in futile attempts to pray for forgiveness, never once believing I could be considering what I had done. I found myself at the edge of the grove leaning against the trunk of a large tree. Through my bitter tears, I spied a rope at the base of a chest-high rock protruding from the ground. Such cords often used to drape over branches and jerked to shake olives from the trees during harvest season. Was the rope lost, discarded, or perhaps forgotten? I neither knew nor cared. I grasped the rope and threw one end over a sturdy branch. The other end, I made a noose. How had I, the son of Simon Iscariot, come to this?

The foundation of my fate lies probably in my seething hatred of the festering infestation of Romans in Israel. The hateful locusts of Caesar were everywhere. Their taxes and cruelty sapped the life of my people. I desired to rid the land of them. To do something, anything, led to my falling in with a group of zealots led by Abiydan and his second in command, Binyamin. They shared my disdain and unrelenting hatred for the Romans. The group, some twenty-four men, did more than talk. They ambushed Roman soldiers, killing and maiming them in swift attacks. Then vanishing among the rocky hills bordering the roads those soldiers traveled. Each man had a story that fueled his animosity toward the Hellenist horde. My own story began in Jericho and related to my father, Simon. Despite being a man of means, my father worked hard to provide for his family. Arising early to work his field alongside our hired workmen, even before my mother made him breakfast. Rousting me as well to teach me the skills needed for farming, husbandry, and revenue management. We had breakfast after completing the feeding and milking of the goats. He always endured my rebellious griping about such early work, correcting and instructing me with far more gentleness than he ought.

Late one afternoon, a mounted Roman patrol stopped one the road leading pass our farm. They demanded my father come from the field to them. Until that day, I hadn't given much thought to Caesar's locusts beyond following my father's admonishment to avoid them. They were hunting a band of zealots who had attacked a platoon of soldiers escorting Sergius, a nobleman traveling to Joppa. Sergius was seriously wounded, and eight soldiers were dead. The legate in command demanded my father tell him which way