Meeting Judas Iscariot

I awoke in the forest. It was evening, the sun had long set. The smell of the woods surrounded me, almost suffocating me with the musk. I gazed before me as I stood, no lights, no way to see the path. I was lost, the thick trees blocking any light that might guide me. I began to walk slowly, watching each step carefully. The silence pressed against my ears, it was deafening. My eyes began to adjust to the pressing darkness with each step, and I noticed I was in a large clearing. Fear gripped me, how I gotten here or, why, I did not know.

“Scared?” A voice behind me asked, I let out a piercing shriek, clutching my heart.

“W-who are you?” I managed to ask, turning to face the speaker. The man was tall with dark hair, the color indistinguishable in the dark. He wore long sweeping robes; he couldn’t have been older than thirty. He smiled; I felt a chill run up my spine, his eyes roamed my figure, judging me as if he was pondering if he should answer.

“Judas Iscariot,” He simply replied after a moment.

I stared at him dumbfounded. “Wait…The Judas? Jesus’ Judas?”

He chuckled, sighed then glancing me over once again. “Yes,”

I evaluated the situation before me; a man that has been dead for well over two thousand years was talking to me. A man, who had been dubbed one of the worst traitors in history, was talking to me. I came to the conclusion that I was either dead, asleep, or insane, all which seemed reasonable. “You’re none. You’re perfectly alive, awake, and sane.” He said, smiling. I stared.

“Did you just-?”

“No, I read your face. Now are you going to ask why I am here? Or better yet, why are you here?” His smile, dispassionate as he finished.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, “Why am I here? And why are you here?” M...

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...was theirs taken away.” Among the group I saw familiar faces I had seen on the news, and in history books. Many politicians stood, glaring at each other. I saw Bernie Madoff, convicted for telling investors to give him their money and he would invest it with a guarantee of high returns, then instead of legitimately investing their money he would take more from someone else as an investment and then give the original investor part of that money back,

I awoke, light beating down on my face. Shaking my head, I sat up. Was it all a dream? I wondered. I was back in my bedroom, same as I was before my trip through Hell. I was ready to accept my encounter as a vivid dream, until I noticed that, wrapped around my left wrist, was the same scarf that Judas has given me as a farewell gift. Was it a coincidence? The burns on the end of the scarf proved otherwise.