Months seemed to roll by in a blink. Eiran was gone, and the weight upon both Aquilus and Flavia grew heavier with every moment of unparted lips. Their silence led to their persecution, and through their persecution they stood silent.
Morning came and the day went as normal. Aquilus woke, praying that what his wife had told him was just a nightmare, but even now he knew it was truth.
He sighed. God, I don’t understand why. Please tell me why. I need a reason why. Flavia fears I don’t love her anymore, because the child is dead. As if she is at fault.

Every time he returned, the household threw an immense party. The majority of the slaves were Jews, so they had their own celebration going on as a feast took place in the primary courtyard. While his father, sloshed with his Palestinian wine, would recite stories from his youth as an officer, Aquilus would then join his friend in the dances and the songs in the lesser courtyard. It was a seamless transition then, back to his father after he recovered from his drunkenness.
His wife, Flavia, had the most fun in sneaking out of the feasting.

60 AD

In Echoing Halls
What is this room, replete with crucifixions,
Nativities, a dozen "Madonna-and-Child"'s?
The Renaissance. Who else shows Roman soldiers
In full knight's armor, Mary in Italian gown?
But note that sparkling reflection -
The gilded Bethlehem Star
Echoed in gilt embroidered dresses
And haloes framing faces, eyes cast down,
Or else lifted with hands towards heaven's heights.

Byron settled into his seat in the cafeteria. The cheerful hum of conversation filled the room, spreading a joy through Byron as he looked around at his teammates.

"Thanks, fellas. I really-" he smacked his forehead. "Oh, shucks, I can't believe that! I'll catch y'all later."

"What's up?"

"Dude! You haven't even touched your food."

"Already, Fitch?"

"Guys! It just occurred to me that I know that girl. I gotta find her."

"What girl?"

"You crazy? C'mon, man!"

"I'll explain it to y'all later. Save me two seats tomorrow, Breck?"

There was a brink
I had reached
with startling clarity

the nerves built up
thick, on my tongue
coating the lining of my throat

a ghost
came out of me
a fantasy
a jagged daydream that placed the words
in my mouth
and whittled them out
from between sharpened teeth

Captain Aurelius Cassian held his breath. He prayed to Juno for a son for months after he was told of the pregnancy, and he sent incense to Jupiter for a princely fellow, Venus and Cupid for a boy of comely appearance, and Mars for a suitable warrior of Rome. He begged the gods for an heir.
Now, he waited for the result of his prayers.

According to most scientists today, before you answer a question about the past, you need to start with an assumption. That assumption is naturalism.

Naturalism – a philosophy that believes that everything in the universe is determined by natural processes we can observe with the scientific method. Physical matter and energy is all that there is, and all that controls the universe.

Their hands met, reaching for the same book.

"Oh, sorry. Wait, were you just reaching for A Little White Horse?"

"Uh, yes. Were you?"

"Mhmm. I thought I was the only person in this town who read that book, much less even knew it existed."

"Key word 'was'; I just moved here last month."

"Cool!"

She held out her hand. "I'm Kris, and I've lived here my whole life."

He shook her hand, grinning. "I'm Byron, and I look forward to seeing this town as home."

"The library was definitely the best place to start."

When days are dead and skies are grey
When roads with dust are trodden down
When soil is hard as sunbaked clay
And once green grass is stiff and brown

When home is not but ash and dust
When children can no longer cry
When kindly friend has broken trust
And heart is now too tired to try

When mountain mist is turned to smoke
When clouds forever shade the earth
When dust that rises makes us choke
And child born is dead from birth