Lazarus was getting pretty sick of this shit. He hoped the day was going to be uneventful, perhaps he’d go buy some sheep, but Martha was at it again when he walked out of his hut.
“Lazarus is dead!” she wailed.
“You know I’m alive,” he replied. “I’m walking around same as you. Go find something else to do. Get water from the well.”
“Lazarus is dead!” she repeated. “Why did Jesus not come in time?”
That’s when someone hit Lazarus on the back of the head with a rock. It was his own fault. He knew to keep an eye on both of his sisters when they got going like this. He only had himself to blame. It stayed dark even after he eventually came to.
They’d sealed him back in the tomb again.
Trapped, he waited. Eventually he heard voices outside. The stone at the entrance rolled back and light shone in.
“Lazarus, come out!” Jesus called.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Lazarus muttered as he emerged.
“How many times are we going to have to go through this?” Jesus asked, a jubilant crowd surrounding. They loved this, got a kick out of the crazy sisters of Lazarus and their dead/alive game.
“You tell me, man. Maybe you can get them to cut it out. God knows I’ve tried.”
Jesus shrugged. Then he turned to the mob. “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”
David S. Atkinson is the author of “Apocalypse All the Time,” “Not Quite so Stories,” “The Garden of Good and Evil Pancakes,” and “Bones Buried in the Dirt.” He is a Staff Reader for “Digging Through The Fat” and his writing appears in “Literary Orphans,” “The Airgonaut,” “Connotation Press,” and others. His writing website is http://davidsatkinsonwriting.com/.