The Boy Who Would Become The Savior
mustapha umoru@umorumustapha596358
15 days ago
YOUNG CHRIST (Chapter 7)
Biblical Fiction
Copyrighted ©️
✝️
The sound of murmured conversations echoed through the School of the Spirit’s hallways as students made their way to their next classes. Whispers followed Jesus wherever he went that day, like shadows trailing in his wake.
“Did you hear what they’re saying?” Abigail asked as she caught up with him outside the library. Her face was flushed with concern, her visions often leaving her hyper-aware of the undercurrents around her.
Jesus paused, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Abigail’s urgency. “What are they saying?” he asked gently.
“They’re saying your gifts are… dangerous. That you’re trying to make yourself more important than anyone else.”
In his dimly lit office, Herod leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he listened to one of the teachers, Mrs. Callas.
“The students are talking,” Mrs. Callas said, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “They’re questioning whether someone like Jesus should be here. Some of the staff feel his influence is growing… unsettling.”
Herod nodded slowly. “Good. Let the doubt fester. We don’t need outright action yet; just enough fear to isolate him.”
“But he hasn’t done anything wrong,” Mrs. Callas said hesitantly.
“Wrong or right doesn’t matter,” Herod snapped, his tone sharp. “What matters is control. If someone like him gains too much of it, this school—my school—will lose its order. That cannot happen.”
By lunchtime, the hallways buzzed with gossip.
“I heard he made food appear out of nowhere last week,” one student whispered.
“That’s not normal. It’s not natural,” another replied.
Judas, sitting at the edge of the cafeteria, listened intently but said nothing. He watched Jesus across the room, his expression unreadable.
Meanwhile, Peter slammed his tray onto the table where John and Abigail sat. “Have you heard what they’re saying about him?”
“We’ve heard,” Abigail said quietly.
John clenched his fists. “It’s ridiculous. How can they twist something good into something bad?”
Peter leaned closer, his voice a low growl. “We should set them straight. All of them.”
“Not like that,” Abigail warned, glancing nervously at Jesus, who sat in the corner of the room, calmly eating as though unaware of the storm brewing around him. “Jesus wouldn’t want that.”
Later, in the school courtyard, Jesus sat under a tree, reading. The sunlight streamed through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground. A group of students approached hesitantly, their voices hushed but tinged with curiosity and apprehension.
“Jesus,” one of them finally said, stepping forward. “Is it true? Did you really multiply the food last week? And… is it true what they’re saying about you?”
Jesus looked up, his eyes warm and steady. “What are they saying?”
“That you’re trying to be… more than us. That you’re dangerous.”
Jesus smiled faintly, closing his book and standing. “What do you think?” he asked.
The students exchanged uncertain glances. Finally, one of them said, “I don’t know. But the things you do—they’re… different.”
“Different doesn’t mean dangerous,” Jesus said softly. “What I do, I do for others, not for myself. If that causes fear, then perhaps the fear isn’t about me, but about something deeper.”
His words hung in the air, disarming the tension. Slowly, the students nodded, some looking ashamed, others thoughtful.
Watching from a distance, Judas crossed his arms, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. Herod’s words from their private conversation replayed in his head:
“He might seem righteous now, but power changes people, Judas. Be careful where you place your trust.”
John approached him, interrupting his thoughts. “Why are you just standing there? You should be with us, defending him.”
Judas frowned. “Defending him from what? Words? He doesn’t need us to speak for him. He’s perfectly capable on his own.”
“Maybe,” John said. “But loyalty isn’t about what someone needs—it’s about what’s right.”
Judas said nothing, watching as Jesus returned to his book, seemingly unbothered by the scrutiny around him.
Back in his office, Herod slammed a folder onto his desk, frustration etched into his features.
“It didn’t work,” he muttered. “He’s winning them over without even trying.”
Mr Eli, an older man, still lingering by the door, spoke cautiously. “Perhaps you’re underestimating him.”
Herod glared at him. “Perhaps you’re overestimating him. He’s just a boy with tricks. But if he won’t fall under his own weight, we’ll have to push him.”
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