A Fictional First-Person Account of the Passion, Through the Eyes of an Unlikely Disciple:

My breath caught in my chest as I watched him pass. I stayed in the shadows as I turned my eyes back toward the west, expecting guards or a mob to follow, but no one else approached. The dust from the ground floated into the air like a fine mist in the moonlight as I watched the man fall to his knees. His shoulders shook violently as he wept aloud, wailing with a bitterness unlike anything I’d ever heard before.