BITTER CUP (any gender, late teens to late thirties)
So I get to be Jesus for you, is that it? Lay down all the glory all the fortune and let the men take me away tonight. For the sake of our people.
And I know, it would seem that I've got the better deal. Jesus died after hours and hours of torture and mutilation and all I need to do is go to prison. But Sir, for Jesus it was over in one day and for me, it's ten years.
Jesus? Agony yes but also ecstasy. And glory. Three nails like stars, forming this elegant triangle, a lean beautiful body naked and crowned, arms out like an angel about to take flight.
Me? Ten years of sleeping with one eye open, ten years of attacks and humiliations to my body and ten years of watching myself shrivel. Ten years turning into a cockroach. And nobody will care. Nobody will know my sacrifice.
In the garden, Jesus showed courage by accepting that bitter cup, right? He passed the test. I think my test is different, isn't it, Sir? Because I would drink from that cup of death but is it brave for me to live on a diet of decay?
Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes.
If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"