My name’s Jason and I’m 22. This is the story of when I stumbled into the wrong alley way…
I looked around me and could only see darkness. Even the light of the full moon was blurred. Then I heard something, someone. Men chuckling. Though I was drunk I knew that I was in the wrong place. “Hey! Gimme all your money!” I looked around. What was going on? I managed to make out the outline of a man and could see a glint of metal – probably a knife. Then I realised what was happening. I tried to make a run for it but two men held me back, and pushed me head first roughly into the floor, so I smashed my skull into the ground. I was getting mugged!
The next thing I remember happening was getting up in the same alley way, and feeling a searing pain all over my body. Among ripped clothes and empty pockets I saw cuts bruises and as I put my hand to my head, I knew I had cracked it. I slowly stood up but felt instantly light headed. My knees wobbled and so I fell back down. I needed help – quick. My head was still bleeding so I ripped off some cloth from my jeans, and tied it tightly around it like a bandana. It must have been early morning for the sun was out. I tried several times to get up, but my body was too weak. Plus my cracked skull was still gushing. If someone didn’t come and help me soon I could pass out.
After hours of just lying on the ground, people finally started to wake up. The first person to walk past the entrance of the alley (where I had managed to crawl to) was a police man in uniform. “Help!” I called, my voice sounding like a fire crackling. He just looked at me with disgust and sped up to get away. I waited another hour. Next was a family. A family of four: one mum, one dad, one daughter and one son. I smiled at the boy and so he tugged at his mum’s sleeve and pointed. ” Help him!” He pleaded but his mum just dragged him away. All hope was lost. If everybody acted like this then…
I passed out with exhaustion and lack of blood. Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital lying on a bed with new clothes on and a not so beaten up body. I had lots of leads and wires connected to me and I smiled because I was still alive. I could hear voices outside; I listened in. A man said, “I will pay for him to stay for two months to heal up.” he said, presumably talking about me, “Though, I will return to pay again if he is not ready to leave by that time. I must go now.” The nurse (I assumed) said goodbye and walked off back to work. I must’ve been in a private hospital, for the man was paying for me to stay there were marble floors and a TV in my room. Instead of leaving like he said he would the mysterious man poked half his body around the open door. He wore a very expensive-looking suit and was holding a very posh suitcase. He must have been very rich. “Thank you -” I only just managed to get in before he left the room.
And so, after two months of healing, I never saw the good man again.
This is dedicated to Maureen Weston, who gave the idea of modernising some of Jesus’ parables. Hopefully, you can guess which one this is!
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