I was alive but it was too dark to see. There was a shroud covering my face and I pulled it away. My side stung with pain and I put my hand to it and it was sticky and wet between my fingers. I tried not to be panic.

I looked around and there was a crack of light. I groped at the rock around the crack and I had found a hole to get out of the cave. I pushed at the rock that was covering it and when it moved I could see that it was an old mill stone set on its side.

I pushed again and rolled it a few inches, and now the crack was wider. Light and heat poured into the cave replacing the dark stale air. I tilted the stone away from the rock and gave it a push and rolled it out of the mouth of the cave.

I looked back into the tomb and I saw the shroud with sticky blood where my face was wrapped and I was glad to be out of the tomb. It was bright outside and the last time I was outside it got dark in the middle of the day and there was lightning and thunder.

I wonder if my friends are looking for me? I wonder who buried me? Well, I was alive. Before I was alive there was nothing and there will probably be nothing after I die. Being alive is at least something. I decided that to live was a good thing and I wanted to live and see my friends again so I set off looking for water.

The hills were silver green with olive trees and the sun was hot. The golden brush cracked and snapped under my feet. I came over a ridge and looked down into a valley. There was a farm in the valley and a well at the farm.

I came to a well after walking for about a mile. I drank the cool clean water and there was a farmer there who gave me a lunch of olives and bread and fish. I ate hungrily and we sat in the shade.

The old farmer asked where I was going and I told him I was going to Emmaus because that's where I heard everyone was going. He told me a shorter way and I thanked him for lunch and he gave me some bread and a wineskin with water for the road.

Another few miles down the road I met a couple of guys who were going to Emmaus, too. We walked together for a while and they were going on about some prophet.

"Our own people sent him to die," one traveler said.

"Haven't you heard about Jesus of Nazareth?" the other asked.

When I heard my name I froze. Had I been sentenced to death? Apparently these people thought I was some sort of prophet but I don't have any magic powers.

Slowly it started coming back to me. The lightning and peals of thunder, the darkness during the daylight, the sky ripped in half. The aching screaming and gasping and pleading and the outstretched-reaching and plunging down and the twisting writhing desolation.

"You sent me here, now you stay here forever," I whispered as I plunged the beguiled spear into his side. "I will take your place on the throne."

I remember standing to watch as the sky opened. The screams from heaven were terrible. Yes, you may be god but I took your only son that day. I am your only son now. The snake has struck your heel, o god.