Jars or Jazz?

 

"I need to see him" I shouted as I attempted to make my voice heard despite the loud crowd. Arms shaking, chest pulsating, and heart dashing I yelled more "I need to see him".

Who? they asked, the man you're going to kill I answered angrily.

My heart hustled the more as everybody was attempting to mind their business. I started to contemplate internally.

I can't help thinking about why life is like this, beneficial things escape great individuals and terrible individuals pull off some unacceptable things they do. This blameless man is about to be killed for a wrongdoing he didn't perpetrate. I find it strange that he doesn't appear to be annoyed from what I have heard.

Well, he's been giving some power vibes recently. Perhaps, quite possibly he plans to escape. What if he doesn't? I need to rapidly give him this.

He ought to have been killed today but there is a festival. Or, I simply wish he can get away. How would we bear the aggravation and misery? How would we watch a blameless man being killed? I expressed "Ewww" as the imagination of a knife slicing his throat streaked to me. Do you think it's the knife? someone interrupted as if she's been in my thoughts. 

I used my hand to wipe my face but before I could say "Jack Robison" I hit my little toe on the ground. Uh oh, I was already in front of the house. Goodness!

I hurried in, and everybody attempted to avoid me going in yet I persevered, my feet taking me to the extent that they could until I got to where the man was sitting.

 He appears to be so loose for somebody going to be killed, most terrible he's eating at a table.

I immediately took my consciousness back to what I came here for as I attempted to bring out the annual salary gift I had brought. This gift cost me a lot but I'll drop it at my master's feet.

Again? I said as I saw the weird faces individuals gave. I would do well to be quick I said as I hurried towards him and broke my ointment on his lap. "I'm heartbroken about your ointment breaking" a darker-looking man addressed me. I gave him a look as to imply "don't be sorry I did that deliberately.

I took the oil, tenderly pouring it on the master's head. For what reason are these individuals behaving as Gen Zs? What is making you irate? as I could hear shouts out of control.

That I broke a costly ointment or that it isn't you? Then some murmured saying " why would you squander this ointment? for it might have been sold for more than 300 pence and given to poor people.

Without wasting time the man answered " why are you irritating her? There I smiled as to yell "goals", this is the sort of man Gen Z calls  "goals".

Yet, how could individuals be so severe? This man you are taking to be killed hasn't even committed an offense.

What are you willing to lay at your Lord's feet? What are you holding on to so much that you can't let go?