Welcome to Friday Fiction!! This week's host is Shirley over at Sunny Glade. Pop on over to read more fiction, or join the fun and post your own short story!
In the spirit of the Christmas season, my story this week is from the recent Faithwiters.com "Christmas Carol" writing challenge. I hope you enjoy this fictional account of an historical event, told from the viewpoint of one of the participants.
They called us fools for seeking a god who had no face, no image. Indeed, when we set out on this journey, this pilgrimage, we were elevated in the opinion of most in Persia to The Kings of All Fools.
We three “kings” of orient are.
But we knew the truth, and their taunts fazed us naught. We were convicted and would not be deterred. We set out upon a road uncertain for a destination unknown in search of a true King.
We procured riches from the land to offer Him, but what earthly gift could possibly be fit to lay before the One we seek? My offering is closely guarded – I’ll not divulge its hiding place, but suffice it to say it will be secure still when I reach the end of this trek.
Bearing gifts we traverse afar.
We have traveled a great distance, over lands as varied in their makeup as the people who populate them: from farmers eking an existence from the field, to fishermen plucking their livelihood from the earth’s generous fount; across barren moorland to the foot of a treacherous mountain range seemingly inhabited only by clouds.
Field and fountain; moor and mountain.
News of our journey precedes us; verily, wherever we travel, we are expected and welcomed, and encouraged. The one constant among the diversity--the yonder star that beckons. From the onset of this journey, none of us could deny its unspoken command – “Follow.”
Following yonder star.
Each of us is acclaimed in our field of reading the heavens and gleaning its mysteries, but this star is like nothing any of us has observed; still we know what it is, and we know of the wonder that awaits at the terminus of its course across the sky: the prophesied Messiah. The star’s night-brilliance rules the darkness, and lo, even at the height of day its divine light will not be denied prominence in the heavens, competing handily with the radiance of the sun. This star’s bright beauty heralds Royalty.
Oh, star of wonder; star of night. Star with royal beauty bright.
Westward it leads us; and westward we pursue it. Westward from our Persia, where Hebrews have settled bringing with them chronicles of their God and His promise of a Messiah. For years we poured over their holy writings; for years we scoured the sky for this sign.
Westward leading, still proceeding.
As astounded as I was to witness the birth of this supernatural star, it was surely affirmation of my growing trust in this unseen God of the Hebrews. My heart is barely contained in my chest, pounding as it is at the thought of being in His very presence.
Alas, here I must close; the candle burns precariously low and I must preserve the precious wax. If anyone should find and read this journal, may he be assured of the certainty I carry in my core of the divinity of the One I seek, whose perfect Light will outshine the brilliance of even this magnificent star that guides us to Him.
Guide us to thy perfect light.
“We Three Kings of Orient Are”
Words and Music By: Rev. John H. Hopkins, circa 1857.