The 13th Disciple

Nobody asks about me.

Nobody remembers me. Except the scholars.

How easy you descendants of Mary Magdalene forget! In spite of the gospel I spread to the heart of Ethiopia.

How easy ye men of earth forget…

I was a solemn man once upon a time.  Skirting the compound of my father’s land in Jerusalem, ogling unmarried and married women’s tits, when I heard of the Messiah. There were a lot of prophets in my time, but none with a buzz as thickset as the one they called Jesus. So when they requested for my presence the night afore, I hesitated not.

We had been waiting in the lower room moments after the cock cried thrice. Justus and I.

I was not completely certain why we had been called but I suspected it had to do with Iscariot hanging himself with his neighbour’s daughter’s underwear two weeks ago. We sat ten finger-steps away like we were little infants waiting for our sweet teeth to be attended. I had dozed off twice, and Justus had dozed off several times, even though each time I prodded him he would clasp his palms together firmly like he was in deep fellowship with our Lord. When the sun set we were summoned upstairs.

The upper room was a hollow spacious room built with dark wood. There were several men in the room.  All eleven of them were in the front, fervently praying; together with the Master’s mother and siblings.  The Master’s little sister stood piously beside her mother, Mary. She looked just like a mini version of her mother. With beautiful innocent eyes and full lips moving slowly in prayer to the one High above.

 I felt a tingling in my balls.

And vowed to pursue her if the day did not go in my favour. I knew in my heart that the Master would agree. I was a young upright man, righteous in my deeds and repentant of my sins. And had a pleasing face to wake up to in the deep embers of the night.

Peter called us before the men gathered and asked us to go on our knees. They held hands in one accord and prayed asking the Lord who knew the hearts of all men, to show which one of us he had chosen to take Judas’ place in the ministry and apostleship.

Now I Matthias, I wasn’t painted like a Pharisee – pretentious and upstart. I was good righteous man, but I was a sinner too. I had laid with Old man Bartholomew’s 3rd wife 7 times. But I had repented, and I was prepared to confess all my sins.

The joy on my face when the disciples chose me none can compare.  And I made my calling worth the while.

But nobody knows the 2nd 12th disciple.

In spite of preaching on one leg and begging Iskinder of Adis Ababa, leader of the barbarians, to desist from eating the inner thighs of 18 year old virgins on the Sabbath day and surrendering his life, and that of his men to Our Lord.

Inspite of being crucified naked in the open market of Sebastopolis.

Nobody knows my name. Except Google..



7 responses to “The 13th Disciple

  1. I like the last line but people will scream blasphemy because of the fact you have stated that he slept with someone’s wife 7 times. As usual your story telling abilities amaze me. This in my opinion though interesting is not as great as some of the others you’ve written ist however different and that’s what I think makes it stand out

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