Mark, a young man in his early twenties, with dark rich curly hair. His calves were moderately formed. His torso seemed to perfect to be true, carved at all sides...
He was almost my height with a soft tone, fairly baritone attached to him. He had brown coloured eyes and fairly tanned skin. His lips were dark—some say he is African. On his back he carried a slight hunch from praying.
Mark jumps down from his heightened bed and runs towards me, “you said?” he asks,
"we are travelling to Rome, Paul needs us! " this time my voice sounded harsh with a lot of urgency in it.
"mark you snail" I said, gently brushing his head, "go and pack".
He leaves me—his face still puzzled as to why I told him to pack his things with that urgency.
"I know dad paul is in trouble, news has it" mark said.
His little quibble got my attention. "you said what? "
I fixed my gaze on him...
"rumour has it that Caesar has ordered his execution"
I couldn't hold my self—I began to tremble, I fell to the ground held my legs together
and let streams of hot tears parol my cheeks. Mark watched me as I shed the hottest tears of my life. His face was smeared with disappointment. He sat close to me, held my hands and said "I think we better journey before we might get there late".
So I gathered strength and got up from the ground, turned to continue parking when I heard a loud thud on the door, like someone fell on it "who is that" I said. The voice responded with "shalom". He certainly is Jewish and sounds like some one I knew.
"I am coming" I said in return I ran to the door, swinging it open...."what!!!"
it was him standing before us—one of them that saw the lord walk the earth....
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