Ah, its that time of the year again. What am I refering to?

MANTIDS


kinda dropped everything I was thinking about as soon as I saw them, temporary side affects include and are not limited to: silly noises coming from the mouth, gasping, smile stuck on the face, and forgetfullness.

oh and as of the last week or so I've been sick with a virus with mono like symptoms, but apparently its not mono. they don't know what it is. Hope it doesn't last any more weeks, already lost 4-5 lbs, I don't exactly have a lot to lose either :P

I don't think its a coincidence I got sick two days after I first wrote a short story I wrote.

Here's the latest version, I wasn't too sure of whether I was headed in the right direction with it, I'm trying not to... meh, I won't tell you, you'll probably figure out what I mean.

The Figure V. 2

The day had finally come, and the crowd gathered around the hill.
An army of voices roars, their anger surges forth at the
figure on the hill. Then grow silent... for now...

A man sulks in the shadows, filled with remorse at his actions.
He was accused of being with the hated figure, but he had denied it.
but at the sound of a bird, he realized what he had done. He was filled with horror
and a great sorrow overwhelmed him. He had rejected his Teacher! He denied knowing him!
but worst of all... He had abandoned his best friend!
Suddenly the army roared to life interrupting his thoughts, Chills bolted down his spine,
dread creeped over his core like a smothering blanket. Hopelessness slammed against him,
conquering all his thoughts, and all he could do was cry. He had abandoned his friend,
sobs wracked his body as he listened to the crowd.

The governor had handed the figure over to the mob, fearful of their
rage. Those few who don't support the mob are too afraid to speak out. Many of
those confronted deny it like his friend did. The army's ranks continue to
grow, as more and more add their voices to the roar.
"How dare he betray us!" they cry. Their anger is vicious like fire, and unquenchable like a raging dragon.
They rerate the man, the bloody, beaten man barely clinging on to life. A life
they are more then happy to end no matter what it costs. So intent on this, and consumed they totally ignore the two theives
that share his fate in death. One even adds his voice to the self proclaimed vigilante mob.
They mock! They belittle him! and they ridicule the dying man, as ruthless as a wolf after its prey.
He brought them together. Their hate binds them. His death drives them, they desire to shed his blood.
They smirk at the sight of his blood trickling down his body. They laugh at the sight of his misery.
Even as darkness crawls of the land, they only care of making sure he dies.
They even grow more pleased as he slowly fades away. Calling him "a heretic" and "a traitor" even as he
groans from the stabbing pain, his strength evaporating like water in a desert.
His sweat mixing with blood as it makes its way down to the ground. He strains as he speaks to one of his friends
during a lull in crowds talk. Lifting himself up to take each breath his pain, and burden obvious to the onlookers. But
they don't care. They don't care he is one of them. His own people have turned on him. They watch with glee as he struggles to take a breath
much like they did when he was tortured. They laughed at his pain as his blood sprung forth. The soldiers were no better.

They took his belongings and divided them up among themselves
The people rejoice in his suffering, taking pleasure in his agony.
What a horrid thing he must have done. To have his own
people turn against him.
Even one of his close friends betrayed him, handed him over to them. How
horrible his crimes must have been. They had no pity on him,
far from it, they continued to mock him. Despite how close he
inched to death. They continued their onslaught. Their hearts are
filled with hate! They desire his death with all their being!
Nothing else matters to them! He must die! He must pay in blood!
Then the land trembled as the moment they had waited for came
to pass. He had died! But the army was silent, even the animals
were quiet. Only then did they notice the darkness that enveloped
the land.

We flash forward to the present. All three men are dead, their bodies
gone along with the method of their deaths. Oh what crimes he must
have done to incur their wrath! To be tortured! To be mocked!
To be ridiculed! To be virtually alone as he died! No one was there to comfort
him, not even his own father. No one at all! He died alone...

People laughing at his plight, at his pain, rejoicing at his blood.
Amused at the sight of his struggle to breath. Enjoying
themselves and his very death. The people hated him for what he did! Scorned him
for what he had done! They hated him, the common thread the bound them
together. Their jury had convicted him and sentenced him to death.
They were giddy to carry it out. Celebrating in their victory,
"another enemy conquered" they cried. They laugh at
the sight of their foe's blood, as a puddle formed on the hill. They were happy
to see his blood along with the pain that came with it. What grievious act did
he commit? What kind of person was he? Then a sign on the ground catches my eye.
I recall that sign having been on his execution device.
maybe it will list his crimes. These people were like you and me,
knowledgable, always trying to be just, The evidence must have been
so overwhelming that there was no doubt among the people of his guilt.
Maybe it will help me find out his horrid crimes, what
he did to enrage the people so; to stir them up in such a way.
Instead I'm a little puzzled. The list is short, and I don't get the
meaning of it. There must be some hidden meaning, some explanation
has to missing. Maybe you can understand what the
meaning to this horrid crime must be. To deserve
such a fate. The only certain thing is what a grievious crime
this must be! To desever such a fate! Here is what it reads:

Jesus of Nazareth. The King of the Jews