Ok, so this is the prologue of Jesus Christ Superstar. I wasn't planning on writing this but one day pen just found paper and I fell in love with what I had in my head. I have limited time to upload so I'l upload more if this gets reviewed at all.
While I was with them, I kept them in your name, which you have given me. I have guarded them, and not one of them has been lost except the son of destruction, that the Scripture might be fulfilled. – John 17:12
The cold and fresh haze of dawn crept silently over the city. It illuminated the streets in a soft glow, as if in an attempt to create a veneer of peace over the place. It was indeed still. Silence coated the streets. It was the Sabbath, not that that meant much anymore. The man who stood in the shadow of the temple wall gazed up into the sky, allowing the scent of morning to wash over him. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the ache in his muscles. There was an elderly man asleep on the stone steps across the way. His mouth hung open as he lay sprawled, half empty liquor bottle hanging from his bony fingertips. From the shadows he watched the drunk for a minute or two, until the silence was broken by the sound of heavy, uneven footsteps coming across the courtyard. The footsteps stopped by the temple and relieved themselves against the temple wall. It was a struggle to stay concealed after such an act of petulant abuse, but hidden he remained until the footsteps had faded away in the other direction.
Another few minutes went by in silence. He stayed where he was. Waiting. The sky was now red and the shadows had moved somewhat. He could hear the military drills beginning across the city and wondered how long before they'd be interrupted. Most days the riots began before lunch. The fighting worried him as no one seemed to see the madness of it all. There was no need to aggravate the romans. The Romans had brute force enough to take down any violent outburst, and the manipulative intelligence to seek out any such organisation that would infiltrate, corrupt or otherwise threaten their grip on the East.
He was distracted from his thoughts at peals of laughter which were rapidly drawing nearer. He shrank back into the shadows. The laughing woman came into view, her dark hair falling carelessly around her bare shoulders. Her eyes flashed in the sunlight as she held her skirt up from the dirt. Her body was all that a woman's body should be, glorious, godlike almost. Yet imperfect, he relished the thought. Behind her came another man. Leaning forward by the wall he watched, waiting, but dreading to know the truth. Tall, built and handsome her follower took her hand and pulled her nearer to him. They moved as if dancing, effortlessly free and easy. He took her face in his hands, pulling her in closer. The man watched their embrace from where he stood, a sickness in his stomach and ice seeping through his veins. The woman pulled free and let out another peal of laughter. She took his hand and quickly pulled him past the unconscious drunk, twirling and dancing as she led him around the corner and out of sight. Silence descended on the courtyard once more and, his heart on fire, the man emerged from behind the temple wall.
He fell to his knees, his hands gripping his hair, allowing the pain he did not wish to feel wash over him, wave after wave. His breathing was shallow and he shut his eyes tight. When he opened them again he squinted up against the sunlight and saw five figures staring down at him from the temple gate. They were dressed all in black, making it hard to discern where their bodies ended and their shadows began. They were smiling secretly at him. Unnerved, he slowly got to his feet, wiping dust from his face. The five high priests turned and moved, as if one, back into the temple. When they had disappeared from view he sighed and made to leave. Passing the drunk, he took the bottle from him and left a few denari by his side. He downed the remaining liquid, flinching at its bitterness, before glancing back at the spot where Mary Magdalene and Jesus had been entwined only minutes before.
Knowing the truth at last, he decided, was not liberating as he had hoped, but suffocating. The knowledge bore down on him with no mercy or logic. Throat dry, blood cold and stomach sick, Judas turned and left the courtyard the same way the couple had, willing the darkness to swallow him whole.