Gospel According to Zachariah

Jay Joseph

Description

Zachariah's world turns upside down from the day he realises that his family does not exist anymore. He's forced to run away from his hometown, looking for a place of peace and quiet, but comes across unimaginable situations on his run which he has no clue about where or when would end. Is he able to fend off the cruelty and ferocity on his way? Can he survive the terrible, unpredictable circumstances he runs into? Does he reach a place and the peace he is looking for? Set in an environment of chaos and fear, brilliantly narrating the nature and creations in it, The Gospel According to Zachariah depicts the story of a 15-year-old boy running away for his survival, the struggles he makes and the aftermath of that life-turning run.

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 30 août 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528959278
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

The Gospel According to Zachariah
Jay Joseph
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-08-30
The Gospel According to Zachariah About the Author About the Book Dedication Copyright Information Acknowledgement Memories Chapter 1 Zach for Zachariah Chapter 2 Destruction Chapter 3 The Run Chapter 4 Lust and Tears Chapter 5 Mountains and Valleys Chapter 6 Men at Night Chapter 7 Living Without Dreams Chapter 8 Walking Souls Chapter 9 Mother and Baby Chapter 10 Burial Chapter 11 The Girl Chapter 12 Rosa Chapter 13 The Fence Chapter 14 First Touch Chapter 15 The Divine State Chapter 16 Alone Again Chapter 17 Mona, Optical Illusion and Lunatic Musa Chapter 18 You’re Not Alone Chapter 19 Malaika Chapter 20 Two Teachers Chapter 21 Souls Under Water Chapter 22 Kos Chapter 23 Money Chapter 24 Dora’s Street Chapter 25 White Town Chapter 26 Almanya Chapter 27 Reappearance Chapter 28 Calais Chapter 29 Claire and Michael Chapter 30 Running Back
About the Author

Jay Joseph, a teacher by profession, has lived and worked in various parts of the world. The Gospel According to Zachariah is his second book of fiction. His passions, in addition to reading and writing, are people, animals and plants. He currently lives in Northeast London with his family and teaches in a local school.
About the Book
Zachariah’s world turns upside down from the day he realises that his family does not exist anymore. He’s forced to run away from his hometown, looking for a place of peace and quiet, but comes across unimaginable situations on his run which he has no clue about where or when would end.
Is he able to fend off the cruelty and ferocity on his way? Can he survive the terrible, unpredictable circumstances he runs into? Does he reach a place and the peace he is looking for?
Set in an environment of chaos and fear, brilliantly narrating the nature and creations in it, The Gospel According to Zachariah depicts the story of a 15-year-old boy running away for his survival, the struggles he makes and the aftermath of that life-turning run.
Dedication
To children who run away for whatever reasons.
Copyright Information
Copyright © Jay Joseph (2019)
The right of Jay Joseph to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528909464 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528959278 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgement
I gratefully but sadly remember the Syrian boy in Chelsea who sowed the seed of this story in me.
Memories
“The final of the most exciting event of the day…” The commentator shouted in his mike and his voice echoed all around the stadium. “…world’s fastest men are competing with each other…the moment we have all been waiting for…” The spectators had gone mad with excitement; they expressed their feelings in different ways; some cheered, some screamed, some clapped nonstop, and some called out the names of competitors.
I stood in my lane, looking at the track I was going to run along, shaking my hands and legs, and trying to focus; my eyes closed and opened a couple of times in regular intervals; my head swayed left and right, like the pendulum of a wall clock, all impulsively.
“On your marks…set…” I heard the announcement resonating in the air, overtaking the cheering by the crowd. The atmosphere was slowly quiet, spectators eventually silent; no more cheering, clapping or screaming. They all stood up from their seats, steadily; they could not contain their anxiety and excitement just by being seated.
I took my position, looking straight, taking long breaths; my mind and brain fully focused, eyes wide open but then I closed them for a second bowing my head down. In my mind, deep inside, far behind the ocean in my eyes, I saw myself then—running like lighting, past dismantled houses, deserted forests, abandoned streets, broken boat, hungry animals and guns and knives.
I was running for my life, alone, scared and desperate.
I opened my eyes, slowly; there was only my track in front of me then, a pair of yellow lines on either side. Looking ahead, far ahead, I took my breath in, held it, breathed out and held it again, and repeated the whole process, again and again, in a sequence of four-three-four-three.
Suddenly, I heard the gun shot and I ran, instantly, as if I were shot, like a rabbit running for its life; I did not look left or right, my eyes were fixed straight ahead. I ran as if I was being followed by killers who held out their guns, knives, stones, sticks and bombs. I picked up the speed of my running; I had to escape, I had to save my life, I wanted to reach my destination, alive and unhurt.
All I knew and did then was running—faster, faster and even faster. I did not know how long, how far I ran. Time and distance were insignificant then, only the destination mattered.
“It’s Zachariah…Yes, yet again…it’s Zachariah…from Great Britain…He’s broken the world record AGAIN…” I heard the commentator screaming, at some point, followed by cheers, claps, shouts and cries, louder than ever before.
I ran for a few more seconds, past the finishing line, past the many waiting, before I stopped, and they ran with me.
“Congratulations Zachariah for that super-brilliant, mind-blowing run; yet another world record. Wow! Unbelievable…Incredible…” I stood in front of the crowd of photographers, reporters and organisers, who had come running to me, and listened to the man still shouting in his mike, in exhilaration. Cameras flashed in front of me, one after another, sometimes several at one time. I stood there, a little bewildered, forgotten where I was or why.
“Zachariah…very well done. You made us all proud, not only Great Britain but the whole world. Congratulations once again. How on earth could you do that? Can you tell us how you could run like that…? Tell us your gospel…your own good story…” The only reporter who had been given special access to talk to the athletes was full of smiles; he handed the mike over to me, and stared at my face, anxiously.
What gospel? What good story? Closing my eyes, I searched in my brain for a quick, short response to his question. A sigh came out of me, a long sigh, without my knowledge, followed by a few seconds, breathless and solitary. I saw, again, in my closed eyes, destroyed houses, lonely streets, broken boat, dangerous animals, little boys and girls, guns and knives.
“I have been running…that’s my gospel…for some time now…” I muttered into the mike which shook in my hand; I sensed my voice breaking down, eyes getting tearful. “It’s my life…” I continued, “…running’s been my life…and that brought me here…it’s my desire to live that got me here,” the words came out of me, one by one, involuntarily, in a sequence, as if someone else was speaking through me, “I started my run long ago—first from people laughing at me, then I ran for my life, and now I am running FOR the country that sheltered me,” I raised my head and looked up at the crowd, then at the sky, clouds and the sun, tears filling up in my eyes, cheers and claps fading away.
I remembered my mother, brothers and sisters; I saw their lifeless bodies in the wreckage of my broken house, the deserted streets back home, armed men, fields I ran through, boys and girls being shot, the streets I ran along, the ocean, the forests, the fences and borders I jumped over, the people I met and left and…My parents, brothers and sisters were all up there, far above, I believed, looking at me, smiling at me, applauding my win.
I closed my eyes again, my head still facing upwards, and tears flew down my cheeks.
Chapter 1

Zach for Zachariah
“Guys, what’s a sequence?” Mr Walker looked left and right, hoping someone would answer his question, or at least give the meaning of the word sequence, the topic of the day’s Maths lesson. But there was no one, as usual, who was interested in his question or in the lesson ; no one wanted to say anything, right or wrong. Disappointed, Mr Walker sighed and rolled his eyes up and down like someone who was going to lose his consciousness. I knew the answer to his question but I refused to say anything. No one expected me to know the answers to questions, not just to Mr Walker’s but to any questions at all. Nothing was expected from me; I was only thought to have a beating heart and a digesting stomach, but not a functioning brain or mind. They were too foolish to assume that I was not supposed to know anything; they were too stupid to believe that I was brainless and daft.
I could easily surprise them, make them all look like really stupid by raising my hand and calling out the answer to Mr Walker’s question. A sequence is a series of items in an order . If you listened to the teacher, you would be able to understand what he was trying to tell you and you could think, and possibly find out new things which even the teacher did not want you to find out. Teachers did not expect you to be over-smart and learn things which they had not planned to teach you that day. What they planned and taught was meant for normal students. If you were smarter, more intelligent than normal, and went further ahead of others, beyond the teacher’s plans and the syllabus made by someone somewhere, you would be called a geek, a freak, a nerd, and abnormal, and I did not want to be one.
“Alright…” Mr Walker said to the fifty or so young people sitting in f