Not related to the previous discussion, but...
I’m going to tell here what I know. Only the truth, plain and unbent.
There once lived a man in Rome named Marcus Julius who was a soldier under Emperor Tiberius. In 25 AD, at the age of 23 he was assigned to Legio XII Fulminata that was stationed in Syria. In 28 AD Marcus Julius moved to Jerusalem, under the command of Pontius Pilate. And as you know, in 30 AD came to Jerusalem a man whose life and death would change the face of the Western civilization - Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus who was crucified in front of Jerusalem for his teachings about one God, omnipotent and omnipresent. Marcus Julius was one of the soldiers who stood guard around the place of crucifixion, and he was unmoved, a true son of the Empire. Pontius Pilate had special trust in him. It is maybe why three nights from then he was stationed with another trusted soldier in front of the tomb where Jesus’ body was placed. On that night their lives were changed, as angels of God came down and took the Son of God with them, all in view of the two guards. That was the truth of their eyes and they could not deny it, but they did what was their duty. The elders and Pilate were informed of the things that happened at the tomb, and the elders feared that people would beat them and Pilate ordered the soldiers to say nothing. And so Marcus Julius said nothing of what he saw that night to anyone.
For ten years Marcus Julius kept the truth inside him, while Jesus’ apostles rose around, spreading the Gospel to people. On his duty, ordered by Pilate, then by Marcellus, he went after the most audacious of Jesus’ followers with sword and fire. It is not known what exactly triggered it, but on the eleventh year Marcus broke, and became mentally ill. On his condition, and due to his good record, he was sent back to Rome, to rest and recover. Of course, the great city, with all its pleasures, couldn’t provide the relief he needed. On the contrary, observing his fellow citizens, so far from the teachings of Jesus, Marcus grew even more grim. But he did not dare to open to anyone, or legionary vows were so strong in him that no degree of pain could make him break them. His body grew weak, though, and betrayed him. One day bleeding wounds opened on his body, on his feet and hands, in the places where nails pierced Jesus’ body when He was crucified. A physician was summoned to help Marcus, and was confused by his condition. The physician dressed the wounds, but couldn’t heal them. Marcus became delirious and lay in bed for days, tended by his servants. At night, when all were asleep, he rose and, his wounds opened again, began writing in blood on a wall. His servants discovered him, in horror, lying on the floor, exhausted, next to the wall strewn with bloody words. Exhausted, but at ease, and sleeping soundly. The servants went after the physician, and he tended to Marcus, but noted the writings on the wall which reminded him of an obscure, but dangerous religion, and told the servants to scrub the writings off carefully.
For several days Marcus was calm, but then started raging. He tossed around on his bed and beat the servants. The physician ordered him tied down, and a friend called upon the help of a witch. The witch came with herbs and candles, and sung behind shut curtains. The servants waited in trepidation outside. After a few hours they heard the witch scream in fear. Rushing inside, they saw that the wounds on Marcus’ body were dripping blood on the sheets, and where the drops touched the fabric, a flame sprung. The servants tried to take Marcus out of the flame, but were burned by his blood.
The flame was then seen from the street, and people ran up to help extinguish it. However, they could do nothing, as Marcus walked around spreading fire and ash. To stop him from burning the city down, soldiers came, beat Marcus and took him with them. They put him into a stone cell, where he only could collect soot from his blood. But that didn’t stop him, and soon all the walls were covered in Christian writings. Of course, they weren’t enough to release all that collected in his soul since the night at Jesus’ tomb. A cell was not enough, a house was not enough... His anguish must have been answered by God then, because on the next night, soldiers heard a loud noise, and coming to Marcus’ cell, saw that a part of a wall had crumbled, and next to a hole there was a writing in blood - “Walls cannot hold me.”
To be continued...
Also, today I stumbled on an interesting, but quite long article by Philip Dick -
"How to Build a Universe That Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later" There is an idea in the beginning that I like very much - it's fun when a universe falls apart. Only I'm not sure characters I create are going to be able to cope with it.
Edit, I guess: I tried recording some Chains of Loss today, and, yeah... I definitely need better equipment for that. Although I thought about the option of using a photocamera (even it gives less noise) and speaking over my cat washing herself on a sofa.
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