Gaius And The Crescent Moon

This is Fiction

The crescent moon shone down on the crowd as they dispersed thirty minutes into the third hour of the afternoon. Gaius walked over to Longinus and Quintus, who held the seamless robe of the convicted man hanging on the cross behind them.

"I called that," Gaius said as Quintus rolled his eyes. He was upset, already in a heated debate with the legionnaire over who would ultimately take possession. Gaius was confident that both men would back down—he was not the most feared infantryman in Judea for no reason.

He could handle both men with two flicks of his sword. He expected to be handed the garment as soon as he approached.

"I promised this to my wife as a wedding gift," Quintus explained.

"I don’t care. I take charge of the garments; you both know this. Hand it over," Gaius demanded.

The legionnaire and Quintus looked at one another. Longinus removed a set of dice from the inside of his hip pouch and held them up. Gaius laughed.

"It’s only fair," said Longinus.

Gaius knew he would terminate the lives of both men if he lost, but he decided to indulge them in their quest for fairness. There was still a large crowd around, and for them to bear witness to a double murder after the execution of their leader would not bode well. The mother of the convicted was still weeping at the foot of the cross.

"Roll it," he demanded.

Longinus threw the dice on the floor and watched as they flickered and moved with chance.

"Eight," called Quintus.

"Six," said Gaius.

"Four," said Longinus.

The two dice cast a lot of three between them.

"I’m closest," said Longinus with a smile. Quintus handed over the robe, and Gaius placed a hand on his scabbard, his humiliation causing his eyes to squint.

Longinus left both men just as a sandstorm rose, sending dust toward them on the hill, forcing all that remained to step back in discomfort and shield their eyes. The intensity of the grains pelted against them as the wind grew. Soon, a harsh smattering of dust and pebbles erupted from all directions.

Gaius was alone, surrounded by the tornado that followed his every step. He couldn’t break away from its grip. It was leading him—possibly off the edge of the cliff, toward certain death. When he arrived, it fizzled away, revealing a world beyond the cliffs where Gaius had a first-hand view of time in fast motion.

Plants and trees grew and withered rapidly.

Rain came and went.

Clouds circled above, casting down lightning bolts before moving on as quickly as they had arrived. A tower and castle rose from the dust, and an army appeared to storm the walls. The army vanished, and the castle crumbled back into dust. Then a series of houses sprouted from the ground, built up, and then collapsed, just as the castle had.

Arrows on signs sprang from a metallic base that Gaius could never have imagined exist. The arrows projected themselves in illuminated light, a thousand times brighter than the candles that lit the temples of Rome. Huge, wing-spanned aircraft followed the route of these arrows before they too disappeared into nothing.

After what felt like thousands of years passing in the blink of an eye, Gaius was alone on the hill. It looked like Judea again, but no one else was around. There was no town he could see—just dust and sand. The way he remembered it, when he traveled to Rome and returned through the desert. The way he remembered the desert to look—desolate, uninviting, and evil.

The fear of the nothing beyond.

He looked on at his fear. The sun grew fierce upon his back. He looked up at the sky and noticed the crescent moon had remained.

Then a fire erupted on the horizon.

Gaius stood from his post and walked down the hill toward the flames. He no longer felt in control of his actions. He felt as if he were in a dreamlike state.

He walked the long path toward the flames that called to him—not through words, but through feeling. He felt the need to be near its presence.

As he arrived, he realized the flame was harmless. He could run his hand through it.

"Stand back. You are in the presence of a higher authority," came a voice that frightened the infantryman. He stumbled back and cowered. He was embarrassed. He held his hands over his face in shame.

"I have no issue with you. You may look upon me. But if you choose not to look, then hear my words well," the voice continued.

Gaius felt a sense of comfort in the tone. He pulled his hands away slightly, catching a glimpse of the flames as they licked the air. He was still frightened but more willing to accept the invitation.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You stand before me, and the one question you are permitted to ask is the one you already know the answer to," said the voice. "Listen to me, soldier. You are a pantomime. You have just walked into a story written centuries ago and fulfilled it with your stupidity. Your fate will be no worse than the ones who nailed my messenger... But you have a chance that I did not give to the others... Do you wish to know what this chance is?"

Gaius fell to his knees and clasped his hands tightly in prayer.

"Anything! Anything! Please, tell me what it is you want me to do," he pleaded.

"You will no longer raise your sword to anyone again," said the flames.

"I promise!" Gaius yelled.

"You have fulfilled your destiny by entering a story that was written before you. You will continue this as your chosen profession," the voice commanded.

Gaius looked on in obedience but was puzzled.

"The theatre, Gaius... You will put down your sword and pick up the written word," the voice continued. "I command you to no longer march with Rome and instead step onto the stage, where you will perform for my people. It is only through art that the details can be magnified. You will be my actor—my messenger to project what the art world has to say about the real world."

Gaius looked down at his knees, resting in the sand.

"My Lord," he began. "An actor?"

"You have already walked into a story and performed a task pre-written. This will not be a new skill for you, Gaius. Perform my actions, and I will rewind time. Or disobey me and wander the desolate evils of my endless desert," the flames said.

Gaius stood at attention. He removed his chest plate, scabbard, and sword. He dropped them to the floor. The flame withered away, and the world turned back.

Clouds gathered and rained down on him in fast motion. Large aircraft flew across the sky in reverse. Houses rose from the ground and morphed into fresh clay. Trees sprung up from the ash, blossomed into health, then shrank back into weeds.

All the while, Gaius held his head up to the sky and looked at the crescent moon, unmoving despite the passing of time.