Biblical Fiction
mustapha umoru@umorumustapha596358
26 days ago
YOUNG CHRIST (Prologue).
✝️
The morning air was thick with the scent of rain, the sky painted a moody gray as a light drizzle kissed the quiet town of Nazareth Hills. In the corner of the local hospital, tucked away from the hum of life, Elizabeth rested in a small maternity ward. Her wrinkled hands, worn from years of prayer and work, cradled the growing curve of her stomach. For decades, she and her husband, Zachariah, had resigned themselves to the quiet ache of an empty home, but now—against all odds—hope had taken root.
It was not long ago that Zachariah, a soft-spoken librarian with salt-and-pepper hair, had experienced a moment that defied logic.
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Zachariah had always found solace among the ancient tomes and weathered shelves of the library archives. On a particularly ordinary evening, as the rain tapped rhythmically on the windows, he meticulously sorted through a stack of old manuscripts. His hands trembled slightly—not from age, but from the heaviness of a quiet life that often blurred one day into the next.
The sudden warmth of light startled him. It wasn’t the flicker of an overhead bulb or the intrusive beam of a flashlight. This light radiated with purpose, pooling around a figure standing in the shadows. Zachariah’s breath hitched as the figure stepped forward—a man, otherworldly and radiant, clothed in an unearthly glow.
“Do not be afraid, Zachariah,” the figure said, his voice resonant and kind, like a melody wrapped in thunder.
Zachariah froze, his heart pounding. “Who—who are you?”
“I am Gabriel,” the man answered, his gaze unwavering. “Your prayers have been heard. Your wife, Elizabeth, will bear you a son, and you will name him John. He will be great in the sight of the Lord, preparing the way for someone greater.”
The words hung heavy in the air, impossible to grasp. Zachariah wanted to believe but faltered. “Elizabeth…she’s too old. This—this isn’t possible.”
The angel’s expression softened, but his voice carried a stern edge. “Because you did not believe my words, you will be unable to speak until the day my promise is fulfilled.”
And just like that, the light dimmed, leaving Zachariah alone in the quiet library, clutching his chest in awe and fear.
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Miles away, in the heart of the bustling city, Mary sat at her small desk, illuminated by the glow of a study lamp. The rhythmic tick of her clock filled the room as she scribbled notes into her journal, pausing occasionally to sip lukewarm tea. The weight of her studies pressed down on her shoulders, but Mary’s faith, young and unshakable, carried her forward.
It was in that unassuming moment, surrounded by the hum of city life outside her window, that the angel Gabriel appeared once more.
“Greetings, favored one,” he said, his voice startling her into dropping her pen.
Mary turned, her heart racing. The figure before her radiated light, yet there was no threat in his presence. “W-who are you?”
“I am Gabriel,” he said with a serene smile. “Do not be afraid, Mary. You have found favor with God. You will conceive and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.”
Mary’s pulse quickened as she struggled to process his words. “But…how can this be? I—I’m not yet married.”
“The Spirit of God will come upon you, and the child will be holy,” Gabriel assured her. “Your son will bring light to the darkness, a savior to the world.”
Mary’s hands trembled, but her voice steadied. “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be as you have said.”
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Joseph paced the narrow living room of his modest apartment, his carpenter’s hands worn and calloused. Mary had told him everything, her voice trembling with both fear and conviction. And though he loved her, deeply and without question, his mind struggled to reconcile her words with the life he had envisioned for them.
That night, sleep evaded him. He lay awake on the worn couch, staring at the ceiling. As the first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, Joseph drifted into a restless slumber.
In his dreams, another figure appeared—Gabriel, bathed in light. “Joseph, son of David,” the angel said, his tone calm but commanding. “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife. The child she carries is from God. He will save his people and bring hope to all.”
Joseph awoke with a start, his heart steady for the first time in days. He didn’t have all the answers, but he had faith.
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Months passed, and the lives of these two families became intertwined by divine threads. Elizabeth gave birth to a boy with a voice that seemed to carry the weight of the heavens. Though Zachariah’s words were silenced, his joy was louder than ever as he wrote the name “John” on a slate.
In the same town, Mary and Joseph marveled at the tiny hands of their newborn son, unaware of the magnitude of his destiny.
From the silence of prayer to the noise of the world, two children were born, destined to change it forever….
First chapter kicks off tomorrow 🔥
Happy Sunday everyone ❤️
©️ Musty Writes 🖊️
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