The Story of Amos Levy by Alison T. Bond
‘Where are you?’I can’t see anything. It’s dark and it’s cold. I can’t breathe. Where is Amos? I’m so cold here in the musty darkness. So terribly alone. I remember when we met, Amos and I. Both still adolescents, craftsmen to be, as our fathers were before us. We dreamt of palaces, great kings and definitely of beautiful princesses. The dreams of young men all over the world. But now I can’t see anything. Here in the darkness I am blinded. We travelled together, Amos and I, from town to town. He followed me wherever I wandered and I loved him like a brother. Amos was a great craftsman. He was careful, diligent and caring of his work. I was the thinker, the planner, the talker and together we gained trust, making good friends wherever we roamed. But now I can’t see or even hear a thing. My tongue is flaccid so I can no longer speak. So dark in here. So terribly alone. I am unaware of time and yet somehow I seem to know how long this period has been. I seem to know how long it will last. I had hoped that it would not come to this but these are modern times. I cannot stop the world from turning. This must come to pass. As I lie here in the cold and darkness, I imagine I can hear my beloved father’s voice, soothing me, ‘Be calm now child.’ Yet still, I am so terribly alone. I want to call out to him but no sound comes from my lips. I think they may have gone blue in this terrible cold. I can’t feel them, they are numb. Held here within this dark, blank space. Here in the stillness, do my senses deceive me? I hear a noise. It startles me even though I can’t physically move. It is the sound of someone sobbing, begging. Begging for forgiveness. My heart bleeds, for I know it is Amos. My dear, dear friend Amos, crying, how I hate to hear him cry. He is heartbroken. He is desperate, pleading all the while, ‘I’m so sorry, forgive me, so very sorry. I love you. Please forgive me.’ His sobbing continues in earnest, and it continues in earnest for three days. Amos, the master carpenter, he begs my forgiveness for the cross he was forced to make. ©Alison T. Bond 2016
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