Well it's good Friday today. :) Therefore I have something fairly appropriate for today's, or rather this evening's writing. Although it is an event which occured before the typical Good Friday, I thought it was a good a time as any to use this bit of a story I wrote some time ago. It is taken from the viewpoint of an invisible witness, outlining events as they unfold.
It is the evening of Jesus' arrest...

It was a mild evening. The gentle breeze rustled the delicate branches, leaves just hiding its laden boughs of small round black fruits. A calm stillness lined the crisp air not even broken by the growing sound of voices that weaved between the trees. The approach of a crowd soon became apparent and I saw their cloaked figures, advancing steadily. I soon recognised the somewhat unusual strained posture of Jesus at the front, his face pained and heavy in the fading twilight rays. His disciples followed, walking behind. I counted them; only eleven. Their faces were shrouded in shadow; it was hard for me to make out who wasn’t there.

Jesus stopped in mid step and the disciples abruptly did the same, silent. They could sense the unsaid tension as much as I could. After an anxious pause, Peter broke through the silence, “Should we stop here, Master?”

“Pray that ye enter not into temptation,” the master replied, gravely. The men cast discreet puzzled looks between them as Jesus turned and began to walk away into the dark midst of the garden. Peter opened his mouth to enquire after what Jesus had meant but another disciple reached out a hand before he could utter a word, gently touching Peter’s arm and shaking his head solemnly.

“Leave him be. He needs some time alone.”

Philip leant towards James and said in a low concerned tone, “What’s wrong with Jesus?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never ever seen him this quiet and pained before. But I’m sure all will reveal itself in time.” James knelt down and began to pray.

Philip’s voice rose in exasperation and he reached down, urgently shaking James' shoulder.
“But shouldn’t we help him? Surely we can do something!” James stopped praying and opened his eyes, sighing deeply.

“No, I don’t think there is anything we can do.” And he went back to how he was. Philip looked in the direction of Jesus, a worried expression etched on his weathered face. Yet he knew that James was right. He reluctantly knelt down and followed their example.
The other disciples couldn’t help questioning amongst themselves about what could possibly be troubling Jesus. But it was no use - none of them knew why this sudden seriousness and sorrow had gripped Jesus that night. The tangibly tense atmosphere still hung around the disciples, lingering like smoke.

(next instalment soon!)

p.s. I like the fact that I had to edit this considerably from what it was before - a sure sign that I'm improving :D