Judas sat in the garden outside, leaning up against a wall. His head pounding and his eyes sore from the tears that had fallen like the autumn rain. His heart felt heavy as he looked around. The other disciples were wandering around the garden, preparing for the evening's meal. Tonight was to be a special meal they had been told. Every so often one of the disciples would look over to the brooding figure in the shadows, their eyes full of many things ~ concern, confusion and even anger. Judas knew why. He had never really been one of them, although his loyalty to their leader was no less he wasn't one of them. They feared him, he could see it in the glances they exchanged with each other.

Judas reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a small leather bound book. Its cover was faded and worn. Like his jacket. He sighed as he held the book tightly in his hands. The book had been with him for as long as he could remember. Within its pages lay his most private thoughts, his dreams and desires, Even the things he was afraid of. As he opened the covers and thumbed to the next clear page he noticed that there were only a couple of pages left. A chill descended over him. He had always wondered if and when there would be no more pages to write on. The book had been a gift when he was a younger. He remembered it clearly even though the years had gone by. It had been a gift from his father.

Judas closed his eyes as he pictured the scene from years before. His father had never been that close to anyone, least of all Judas and his mother but one day his father had surprised them both. Judas had never understood why at the time but his father had called him and given him the book. Telling him that he wanted Judas to use the gifts he had. His father had taught Judas to read and write when he discovered that Judas seemed to have a way with words. As he remembered it was the only time his father had any time for him, his father was proud of his clever son and Judas was only too happy to try and please him more. So Judas had started writing.

In the beginning he had fancied himself as a kind of poet but as cynicism had started to take over his life his writing had become darker. A reflection of himself. His father had told him that the pages would run out when he had nothing more to say. Judas had always thought that his father had made this up in a failed attempt to inspire him but now his words seemed to be a frightening kind of prophecy. Judas had a very strong feeling, soon he would have nothing more to write.

Judas reopened his eyes and looked up at the evening sky. The sun was setting and the sky was gradually turning from its day time blue through shades of purple to the navy blue of night time. He glanced over at the others, still busying themselves with preparations for dinner. He opened the book once more, took a deep breath and started to write.

" Deep inside I can feel something dying. I know my own end is near but this is something more, something more than me. To make it worse I know the reason why. The reason is me. My own actions are killing me.and the man I adore.

I know I haven't always seen eye to eye with him but that doesn't stop my caring about him. I knew it would end this way. I've tried to warn him time and again of the result of his behaviour and what people think of him. But he never wants to listen, sometimes I think he's known all along. Then other times his beautifully clear blue eyes behold a kind of fear that I thought only existed in the worst of nightmares or the eyes of the dying. A fear of the unknown. Now that is what I fear, the uncertainty of what is to follow and the knowledge that whatever I do I can not save him. Save either of us.

I wish I hadn't done it, oh God I wish I hadn't done it. The Priests even paid me, they paid me to betray him. To betray my closest and dearest friend. His blood will be on my hands and there is nothing I can do to stop it now. They'll find him, with or without me. He knows too. I'm sure he knows. He can tell anything about anyone ~ why shouldn't he be able to know this too? Why hasn't he accused me.or tried to run away from them? Oh God what have I done?

I know that there is something inside him, something that this world has never seen before and that will probably never be seen again. A gift that does seem to come from somewhere else and part of me wonders.is that where he's going back to? The other thing I wonder is.will I be able to go with him? I hate the thought of life without him but I know that that is the way it must be. I will miss him more than anything I've ever known.more than life itself."

Judas' breath caught in his throat as he tore his eyes away from the page. He glanced back down to see that there were no pages left. His father had been right, he had nothing more to say. He had confessed all and now his future was no longer in his hands. He knew he had sealed his own fate. Judas closed the book and blinked away the tears that had started to form in his eyes. He reached down by his side and picked up the bottle that stood there. He took a large mouthful and glanced around. He'd been so absorbed in his writing he hadn't noticed the others move inside for dinner. He stood up and placed the now full book back inside his jacket pocket. He stooped to pick up the bottle and started towards the doorway. He rubbed at his tearful eyes once more and took another mouthful from the bottle.

" Judas.come inside! It's time." Jesus' calm voice called out into the garden. Judas could tell that the calmness was an act and he sighed.

" I'm coming.J-J-J." he choked on the last word as a cold feeling of dread filled his soul. Judas shrugged the feeling off, took another swig from the bottle and he walked through the door.