I lay here in this Inn recovering from the biggest beating I have ever had. Being the youngest out of the five brothers, I thought I knew what it meant to be beat up. I always thought I could handle myself in a fight: even, I mean, I was able to give my brothers a good run for their money. But apparently I was more wrong than you could ever imagine. I guess I should actually tell you what happened and why I am laying here in the first place. I’m going to warn you though it’s a long story and if you don’t care for violence then I wouldn’t stick around to listen to it.
It all happened about three weeks ago: I was up at the temple preparing myself for a really big festival that we have every year. I am a priest so I was forced to be there that day. Every day I get up and go to the temple to pray and worship my God. This particular morning I got up and realized that I was running a little late and I had to rush out of my house and after spending the proper time with God I had to get all the way back down to Jericho for this festival. As a priest I was dressed up in an array of festive traditional attire that we were required to wear. I had to get there in a hurry and I knew if I took the normal road I would be late and It wasn’t good the priest to be late for this festival. I had to make a major decision I could take the normal route and be late for the festival, or I could take the path that cut right between the mountains. This road was Robidoux-2
known as the “Way of Blood” and was and would be at risk to be mugged and even possibly be murdered. As I weighed my options, I decided it would be better just to go down the valley of death.
Now I know you’re thinking it wasn’t a very wise choice to go down this road and I would most likely regretting it. You’re right. The moment I entered the tunnel, I knew that I would regret it and I was entirely right. The first man jumped out in front of me and blocked me from going any further, the second came behind me and...
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