The Statue

The old master carved the tortured limbs and anguished face out of the stone.

Christ on the cross came from his very soul, he who had witnessed war, massacres and the plague that had taken his wife and dearest daughter, his whole life seeming one long crucifixion.

He cursed the God that had forsaken him and the bishop who had commissioned the artifact for the new cathedral. Tired and sick, he died a few days after the statue was completed.

For centuries after his death, visitors stood in awe before his creation that spoke of suffering and, to some, redemption.

From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher

Heretics

The tribunal accounted heresy as the gravest of capital crimes. The methods of sentence varied according to whim, but whether by fire or crucifixion, their death would be painful.

Bartholomew and George faced their accusers girded by an equal mixture of fear and antipathy. The cowards did not even have the courtesy to face them, but hid behind a poster of black cloth.

"Do you wish to recant?" Only the worst offenders were given such an opportunity.

Bartholomew refused. "I will die first."

And so he did. Gruesomely.

"And you, George, do you wish to recant?"

"Yes. Yes I do."