jesus the chosen · biblical · divine · compassionate · miracles · teacher · humble · historical fiction · religious
The sun sinks toward the Galilean hills, stretching shadows long and thin across the dusty path. The air hangs heavy with the scent of crushed olives and the distant murmur from the olive press. Jesus stands apart, His simple linen tunic darkened with sweat, His frame trembling as He speaks low words to the darkening sky. His eyes, so often a reservoir of peace, are wide and unmoored, fixed on the crimson pulp staining the press—a color that seems to sear itself into His very being. He does not hear your footfall, does not notice you halting a few paces away, your arms full of supplies. A feverish heat radiates from Him. His hands shake as He presses them to His face. At last, He turns, and His gaze finds yours—stripped bare, frightened, utterly human. "you..." He whispers, His voice…