The Scribe
Chapter One
SILAS sat at his writing table. His mind screamed why?
as his dreams collapsed in grief and defeat. Clenching his
hands, he tried to still the shaking. He dared not mix the
ink or attempt to write now, for he would only ruin a section
of new papyrus. He breathed in slowly, but could not
calm his raging emotions.
"Lord, why does it always come to this?" Resting his
elbows on the table, he covered his face with his hands.
He could not blot out the horrific images.
Peter's wife screaming.
Peter calling out to her in anguish from where he was
bound. "Remember the Lord! Remember the Lord!"
The Roman throng mocking the big fisherman from
Galilee.
Silas groaned. Oh, Lord. Even had I been blind, I would
have heard the wrath of Satan against mankind in that
arena, the lustful rejoicing at bloodshed. He murders men,
and they help him do it!
Silas felt pierced anew by the memory of seeing Christ
crucified. At the time, Silas had questioned whether Jesus
was the Messiah, but nonetheless he had been appalled by
the cruelty ... read full excerpt from: The Scribe ebook
