Storymania - The Letter Of Elijiah by Ashley Burdett

The Letter Of Elijiah
Ashley Burdett

The excavation team had been digging for weeks, but still, they returned nothing. I was looking for the most important part of Christian Scripture, the Letter that detailed Jesus’ Second Coming. Wait, that’s what they were looking for. I was just there because I was a Biblical scholar who happened to speak Aramaic and Greek.
That’s why I was laying there in my tent staring at the shoddy white tarp pulled over the two metal poles. The heat pressed on me and sweat exuded (Unit 12) from every orifice on my body. Dust billowed through the open flap of the test as the team worked, their shovels clanking against dirt, rock and God knows what else. “Why am I here?” I muttered to myself. Nothing had happened for weeks. Life had been reduced to nothing but simply watching, waiting, and listening to the incessant clangor of the shovels. I pulled myself up from resting-place and staggered to the door. Standing in the opening, I wondered how I could have given up a life back home for five Israelis with shovels. No, wait, archaeologists. That’s probably why they were always angry with me. When I got homesick they were the first to meet my nasty remarks. Not that any of them spoke English. But I can always tell when someone hates me. They sit at the campfire, eating and staring at me with these dark, evil eyes. I turned, ready to go back to my cot when-.
“Kaiun! Come here! We’ve found something!”
In no time I was jumping into the massive dirt hole. “What is it?” I asked quickly, my excitement was starting to get the better of me.
All five of the men had gathered themselves around what looked to be a brown, wooden box that was still coated with sand and dirt. Ari, the only one of the five whom spoke English, looked to me. His kind, brown eyes were wide with wonder. “We’re not sure.” He replied. He ran his fingers through his dark hair. Some of the dust fell from it and settled on his shoulders. “I think it’s about 2000 years old. Crudely made. That’s about all we can tell as of now.” He shrugged. I looked up at him. Squinting at him, I studied his features. I had never actually looked at him before. His face looked peaceful. He was also the only one who was nice to me. Even though I would insult him and the team, he would always turn to me with kind eyes and say, “I know, I wish I could go home too but we’re here for a reason and we must complete it.” I have never told him about how I lived in Boston so I never understood how he knew me the way he did.
“Aren’t you going to even look in it?” He asked.
I nodded and slowly kneeled before the box. I examined it and noted that it was small and square. The perfect size for housing scrolls. It was well sanded, though uneven. The corners were a bit uneven but the square shape did exist. It was, like Ari said, very crudely made and remarkably antediluvian (Unit 10).
I ran my fingers over the rough box before moving to open it. There was an excited murmur of Hebrew among the group. Ari silenced them quickly. Their noises stopped but nothing could take away their looks of anticipation. That was about the only thing that could traverse the language barrier.
I removed the lid to reveal a single scroll. “The Letter,” I murmured. I delicately touched the aging paper.
“The Letter,” a chorus of five voices echoed, the first English they’d probably ever spoken.
Gently, I took the scroll and opened it. There was an eruption from the group behind me. Ari quickly silenced them again. I studied the scroll and noticed the characters were large beautifully written. They were carefully drawn and it shown to be thought about it by the author. There were no smudges and I noticed on the sides were flowers of crimson and sage green. The heavy black letters were Aramaic. I’d studied the language for years in college but this was my first time as a “field translator”. I sat back and slowly began to read to the audience who had suddenly gathered at my feet.
“Those of you who choose not to heed this warning choose to burn in the fires of hell. For to not listen to my works is to turn you back on Our Father in heaven. Our Father has promised us the Second Coming of his son, our Savior, Jesus Christ. Yet before his Coming shall come a prophet who will tell this story over. He will be treated as a leper and an adulteress. He will be ostracized by kin and countrymen alike. He will announce his message on the eve of Christ’s Mass in a town that is many days’ journey from Galilee. He will announce the redeeming power of our salvation. If you truly love God as Jesus did, you will heed my warning.”
I tore my eyes from the scroll and looked to Ari who was staring at me with disbelief. “We must find him…”

I went back to my Boston apartment after spending nearly two months in Israel. Life was different. All my friends had changed, my family stopped calling and my fish all had died. The only member of my family who actually talked to me was my sister, Elizabeth. She was the only one who didn’t find me crazy for chasing my dream into the desert.
She came over to my apartment one day after she had been working. It was shortly after Christmas, which I had spent alone. My family didn’t want anything to do with me after I came home. They told me they’d had enough of my hypocritical preaching and my psychotic antics.
Elizabeth was sitting on my couch studying at me. She had been that way since we were little. I was older and she had always watched what I did and tried to copy me. She copied everything I did from chess club to lacrosse up until the time we went to college. Since I was three years older, I was a senior when she was a freshman. That’s about the time I discovered Aramaic. Before that I had planned on becoming a psychologist. Elizabeth did me one better; she became a nurse in a psych ward.
“So how was your Christmas?” I asked her.
“I had to work a double starting at eight on Christmas Eve.” She stuck her tongue out. “I couldn’t even watch ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’ because of the psycho they brought in. He thinks he knows about Christ’s Second Coming.”
“Wait, wait, wait, he thinks he’s a prophet? My letter! The Letter of Elijah! What’s his name?”
“John Doe.” I shot her a look. “He thinks its Elijah but we have no records on him.”
“Can I see him?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do…”

Elizabeth made good on her promise a few days later.
I came to the ward, ready to meet a total psycho but praying that he was authentic. The nurse led me into a blazingly white room. There was a mirror on the wall. I knew there were people on the other side but I was going to ask anything I wanted. They didn’t scare me. There was a small white table and two metal chairs. In one of the chairs sat a dowdy (Unit 11) looking man. His hair was long, brown, and greasy. His dark brown eyes darted throughout the room. There were dark circles under his eyes. It appeared as though he hadn’t slept for days. Suddenly he noticed me and screamed, “When will the believe me?”
“I believe you…Just tell me what you know…” My voice trailed off as I envisioned the doctors behind the mirror scribbling on their little notepads.
“Jesus is coming! He is coming to save all of us.”
I sat down at the table. Slowly, so as not to startle him. “What’s your name?”
“Elijah.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Capernaum, it’s in Galilee.”
I stopped and stared at his face. That’s where I had found the letter. “I was in Capernaum…”
“I know. You found my letter. I am telling the truth. You know I’m telling the truth. I know you believe!”
“What? You’ve been stalking me?”
“No…. Watching. From afar. I know about your reaction to the letter. You believe me. He is coming.” I stared into his eyes. They were dark, almost sinister.
I threw myself up from the table and began to back away. He stood up and started to run after me. He tripped over his shackled feet and latched onto my ankle. “Lemme go! Help! Someone get in here!” I screamed.
“No! Don’t call them! You and your sister are in danger. You must leave the city! Get away at once!” Just as this was said two large men came in. They roughly pulled him up from the floor and began to drag him to a door on the opposite side of the room.
“Remember you are blessed!” He shrieked as the door closed behind them.
I came home that night feeling utterly bewildered. Nothing could calm me down. I laid down on my couch to take a nap. The white cushions quickly swallowed me and before I knew it I was awoken from my slumber by a knock at my door.
I rolled off the couch and fell onto the plush blue carpet. Somewhat disoriented, I stumbled to the door. Fumbling with the lock, I finally managed to crack the door open.
A police officer stood there. He wore a solemn look on his face. “Ma’am…are you Kaiun Stanford?”
I nodded, trying to guess what had happened. He continued, “Do you have a sister named Elizabeth Stanford?”
“Elizabeth? What happened? Is she okay?” My heart leapt into my throat. I swallowed hard, trying to force it down.
He looked at me solemnly. “She was found murdered…”
Suddenly, I felt sick. The world began to spin. “How can she be dead? I just saw her…a few hours ago. She can’t be dead. She can’t be dead.” My tears had turned into full-fledged sobs.
“Please ma’am. Just calm down. It’ll be okay. We can get you counseling.”
“You think I want counseling? Counseling can’t bring her back!”
I closed my eyes and I tried to remember everything we had ever done together. Ballet lessons as children and our makeshift rock band in high school. Everything began to twist itself into an ugly reality. Somewhere far away a voice screamed, “Ma’am breath.” Somewhere between ballet lessons and our first concert I hit the floor.

Days passed. I did nothing and went no where. I was trapped in my house by the memories of Elizabeth. I couldn’t venture out because everywhere I went I was reminded of her.
I gave my statement about her to the police and was promised that they’d “do what they could and she was a priority.” But hey, so are hundreds of other unsolved murders.
I had relived my entire life through my memories of her. When I came to the point about the “John Doe.” I couldn’t help but think about him too. He knew she was in danger. He’d probably done it. My eyes welled up with tears again and I burst out sobbing. “I’ll make him pay…” I swore silently to myself.
For the first time in days, I had a point for life.

I walked up to the foreboding psych ward with a deep anger and resentment in the very depths of my soul. I stormed into the place and began to harass the nurse at the information desk.
“I’d like to see a John Doe,” I said.
“Well, which one?”
Cute response. I glared at her. “The one who thinks Jesus is coming back and he’s the prophet telling us all about it. Like you have more then one of those.”
“He’s not here.” She glanced towards a menacing looking man who stood some thirty feet down the hallway. He looked familiar but not out of place in a psych ward except for the fact that he had donned army fatigues instead of the uniform hospital gown. “He was transferred by a doctor after a psychotic episode he had in which he attacked a visitor.”
“Do you know where I can find him? It is important.”
“He didn’t go to a hospital.”
Strange. “Well then…where did he-?”
“Well, if you’d excuse me! I need to get back to my rounds!” With that she hopped up from her chair and bolted in the direction of the pharmacy.

I entered my apartment feeling confused and angry. Elizabeth was still on my mind but I was sure she was in a better place now. But somehow she just felt so close.
But still, John Doe, no wait, Elijah had known about it. How? How could he have known anything bad was going to befall my sister? Probably a lucky guess. But why didn’t he say Elizabeth was blessed. Why was it just me?
Maybe I could still find him. He had to be in the city somewhere. In some hospital or psych ward or something. I tore off my coat and pitched it on the floor as I ran towards the phone. “I’ll find him. He’s here somewhere.” I said almost to myself as I began dialing.
I heard a slight metallic click close to my ear. My body tensed up and I dropped the phone. “Don’t turn around, just yet.” A deep, husky and noticeably male voice said. “Your prophet is dead. You won’t find him anywhere.” He laughed deeply, almost like Santa Claus, just more sinister.
“Ready to turn around?” He growled. His voice sounded farther away, like he had backed up across my small hallway.
I slowly turned around with my arms partially raised to show unwavering surrender. The man stood there. He was clad in loose fitting army fatigues. His brown hair fell over his eyes. He looked somewhat of a loner or a vagrant. “You’re from the hospital.”
“Pretty observant, isn’t she?” He said sarcastically.
“Who are you talking to?” I asked, almost sure he had broken out of the psych ward.
“Your sister.” He raised an eyebrow and sent me a look, which came off amusing as opposed to menacing. But this was definitely no laughing matter, especially since he had a gun pointed at my heart.
“She’s dead. Someone killed her….” I said.
“Or did they? Anytime now Elizabeth!” He screamed.
That’s when she came in, my sister. The one who I was sure I knew so well but had never met. She had a different air around her. She was more sinister than the sweet and charming one who I had known. I guess the Elizabeth I knew had really died.
“Elizabeth?” I moved towards her with open arms. But the man pushed himself between us and struck me. Pain exploded along my jaw and all I could see were stars. I toppled to the floor.
“You want to know why? Huh? Is that what you were going to ask? How did your sweet little sister get mixed up in all this and especially with him? Well, after hearing, ‘Kaiun this and Kaiun that’ for my entire life I was sick of it. When you went running off into the desert Mom and Dad could not shut up about all of your accomplishments. So you know what? I told them you were in a cave-in. Then I sent them on a vacation to help them mourn you. When you called, you talked to me and him.” She motioned to the man across the room. “Oh and let me guess, you want to know about him. Well, I found out about this little religious gathering called the ‘Seventh Trumpet’. We believe that Jesus will come to us because we pray to him and ask him for his forgiveness. All those not in our church will die when he comes back. And you’re trying to ruin it for me. While you’re preaching love from Jesus you’re not realizing you need to be saved!”
I pulled myself to my knees. “Elizabeth, listen. I forgive you. It’s okay. We can just work past this. I respect your life-.”
“It’s not that easy,” She interrupted. By now she had taken the man’s gun and was now pointing it at me head. I stared down the barrel and felt hot tears prick up into my eyes. “You can’t just put me back together like you always do!” Elizabeth went on to say. “I am Elizabeth Stanford, not Kaiun’s little sister!” I saw there were tears swirling in her eyes too. But she still went on. “You’ve ruined my life. Now I’ll ruin yours.”
I heard a loud clangor and everything seemed to freeze. All I could think about were Elijah’s last words, ‘You are blessed.’ Then all fell dark and silent.

I came to with a painful pounding in my head. Suddenly, there were two distinct knockings. I was unsure as to whether they were both in my head or if one was at my door.
I staggered to my feet and attempted to make my way to the door. “My head…” I moaned. I brought my hand up to my forehead and felt it. Strangely, there was no hole. So, I wasn’t dead.
“I wish I was dead…This hurts.” I muttered. Between the headache and the vertigo walking to the door was nearly impossible. I fumbled with the lock. Even though everything was hazy and nebulous (unit 9) I managed to open the door.
Standing there was a man. He looked like a traveler, even though he was not dressed from our times. His outfit looked like a toga. I must have been hallucinating.
I blinked hard and looked again. This time all I saw was his face. He had a round face, with long brown hair and a beard. Two deep brown eyes watched my every move. I shut my eyes again and the world began to move beneath me.
I looked to him and said, “I know you but who are you?”
He took my hand. “Kaiun, it’s me…”