That Leper; Chapter 3

 

That Leper; Chapter 3

© 2025 by Amber Wright

Date: AD 30

Place: Jerusalem

I was beginning to have hope for my future, a thing I thought impossible just minutes before.

I put on my new robe and veil, and they fit me wonderfully. I felt like a new person!

For the first time in this Valley, I danced for joy in a nestle of large stones where nobody could see me.

I heard the birds sing for the first time.

I saw the beautiful flowers and the berry trees for the first time.

And for the first time, I did not smell the stink of death in the Valley.

I felt happy...and almost clean again.

• • •

But I still wasn’t clean.

Soon my happiness wore off when pain regained its power over my body...and over my spirit.

How I longed for health to come...but it never came.

How I longed for death...but it never came either.

I spent long weeks in the same routine. Eating, trying to stay cool in the blistering heat, and sleeping. Things never changed. My sores only grew bigger and redder.

My flesh kept rotting.

My only hope was when the Roman, my friend, came to the bluff and talked to me.

Sometimes he would lower baskets of fruit or vegetables or bread or a new veil to me, and this lifted my spirits.

Now I had someone to share my pain with, someone who tried to understand my situation. He was a good listener, that Roman boy, even if he hadn’t much to say.

How could he say much though when I was a leper and so unlike the human? I lived a different sort of life—like any day I could be saying my last goodbye. I think he must have understood this because each time he left his goodbyes were getting longer.

A year had passed since the day I had come here when the Roman asked me, “How old are you now?”

I had to stop and think before I answered him. Time seemed to blend into one big awful day in the Valley. I had been 12 years old when I had went to the market that day when I came here.

“I must be 13,” I replied uncertainly. “Has it been a full year yet?”

The Roman nodded grimly.

“A year.” I gulped at him. “And it seems only—like yesterday.”

I didn’t have to crane my neck so high when I talked to him because he had moved down to a lower rock to sit on. He was still a safe ten feet above me though.

“A year,” I repeated, “and I don’t even know your name yet.”

“Eutychus,” he volunteered, then looked up at the cloudless blue sky above. “But not so fortunate as my name means. And,” he looked back down from his perch, “your name?”

“Keturah,” my own name startled me for I had not heard it spoken in so long. “My name is Keturah but I doubt I’m much of an incense. I am not beautiful in the least.”

“I can’t see you too well from here.” Eutychus looked at me, squinting his eyes.

“It’s just as well.” I told him practically.

He didn’t seem to hear me for he added, “But you don’t have to be beautiful to be an incense.”

“I know.” I lowered my head.

My vanity was getting the best of me. I knew I was anything but beautiful now.

My flesh was rotting.

My bones were twisted.

My hair was turning white, strand by strand.

I was getting paler and paler...every day I could see my arms losing more and more of their healthy color. My blood was slowly mixing with the disease itself. I recollected myself, taking a deep breath.

Strangely, for the first time, I felt a wave of weakness overcome me. I lost my balance and fell to the ground, grazing my right cheek as I did. From my wobbly vision I could see Eutychus spring to his feet. I held up a detaining hand, “I’m fine. Don’t come.”

The dust clogged my nose and stung my eyes, but I was alright...so I thought.

I got up on all fours, the pain shooting up my legs from my deteriorating bones. And I stood up on wobbly legs and took deep breaths to steady the pain I felt.

I reached my hand up to my cheek to feel a silent stream of my own blood. I pressed my veil against it to stop the bleeding. I had too little blood already. I certainly had none to lose.

“Are you alright?” Eutychus’ voice held a faint groan.

I nodded, opening my dust blurred eyes, and smiled painfully.

“I'm alright.” I said slowly. “But I fear I must go now—I may be going—away.” My words shook and I could see Eutychus wore a confused look.

“Going?” the Roman asked quickly. “Where might that be? You don’t want to be stoned,” he added quietly, his dark eyes were large and scared.

“I may be going,” I paused to take another deep breath, “to my mother.”

“Where’s your mother?” Eutychus looked around, startled, reseating himself on the rock he had been sitting on.

“In Paradise.” I spoke quietly.

“Where’s that at?”

“Heaven.” I spoke plainly. “I may die soon.”

I saw Eutychus’ face pale and he suddenly squinted. “No,” his voice was hoarse and choked. “You can’t.”

“Only a miracle can save me, Eutychus.” I told him quietly, lowering my eyes to look at the dusty ground where I had picked myself up. “Only a miracle.”

I heard a choking noise and looked up to find Eutychus climbing up the hill.

“Wait,” I called after him.

Eutychus paused in his climb, his back still towards me.

“Thank you, Eutychus.” I thanked him. “For everything. I have appreciated it more than I can say.”

My voice suddenly grew unsteady with weakness so I added faintly, “Shalom, my friend. God be with you.”

I watched Eutychus nod before he climbed up the hill briskly. I watched him go with grateful eyes. He had been my only friend while I was in the Valley. I would miss him, truly, when I would go.

He had brought me many gifts. Food, clothes, joy, comforting words. Only life he could not give. That would have to come from the Creator, from Adonai.

I made my way back to my corner of the cave on painful legs which were bruised and bloody from the fall. I still held my veil to the cut on my cheek, walking slowly, moving one foot at a time.

I finally made it to my quarters where I flopped down on the dusty floor of the cave and fell fast asleep.

• • •

Days passed for me like that way.

I barely had the strength to crawl to the basket of food and sip some water from somebody’s leftover water gourd. And then, I would go back to sleep again.

Weeks had passed since I last saw Eutychus when suddenly he appeared beside me in the cave.

Only I didn’t see him at first. I had been lying still for almost a whole day with no strength to eat or even drink when I heard my name being called.

For a moment I thought I had died and I was being called by an angel who was giving me entrance into Paradise.

“Keturah,” the voice called again, a human’s voice.