Robert's story

A long, long time ago Robert had been granted a wish. There were still wishes to be had, but a person had to slow down to find them. The modern western world was in such a hurry they didn't see the magic around them. Robert could still spot a mystic creature. Jane could if he pointed them out to her, but she didn't have the attention span to find them on her own. She hadn't learned to watch for the subtle differences in lighting or the small colored dot in their eyes. There was a cat in her yard that could grant wishes, not that he'd told anyone about it.

Robert had been young. He'd not taken time to think before he opened his mouth and wished to be immortal. This had been a mistake for many reasons. But through many, many years of trial and error he'd learned to make the best of it.

Robert hadn't learned to read until the 1800s. He hadn't needed to. Public education was a new idea in North America. At one time, the majority of the population had been illiterate. He'd been taught out of the Bible.

As he heard the stories, it had taken all of his control to not laugh, especially at the New Testament with it's painted pictures of Jesus with blue eyes and long, blond hair. There had been many prophets at the time Jesus had been preaching. The writers of the Bible, whoever they were, had taken parables from all the prophets and credited Jesus. There were stories that Jesus had never told nor would he have thought.

Robert was old enough that he'd known Jesus the carpenter, his mother Mary and father Joseph. Humble people with several children. Robert was, however, surprised at how much in the Bible was right.

Jesus was a carpenter, like Joseph had been. He had had a group of disciples including Mary Magdalene, who had been a prostitute. The disciples of Jesus were not the higher echelon of society. The closest equivalent in modern times were people who worked at collection agencies. Robert had taken a meals with them a number of times. Simple, smaller meals of food that had been prepared that day. These meals, with such little food served, would go on for hours. Everyone lounging on the floor, leaning against rocks or trees, eating slowly and laughing.

Jesus had loved to laugh. His laughter was ringing and loud, the true sound of joy. He would throw back his head, crumbs in his beard, his teeth crooked and brown and laugh as if the only thing that mattered in the world at that exact moment was to laugh with joy. Then all of them, everyone covered in a crust of dust and sweat and stinking like days old meat, could not help but roar along with him. Robert had always been awed by Jesus' ability to find the joy.

Once, Robert had looked to where Jesus sat with Mary Magdalene. Sitting close together as they always did. Jesus had leaned over to her and said something in her ear. Mary's face had turned bright red.

That was how Robert remembered Jesus. The man who could make a whore blush.