[ WP ] And in that moment he out-shined even the sun

It was the dawn of a more politically correct sense of morality, derived from philosophy rather than spirit; and so a terrible thing was now allowed to fester. Rebuking a fool will earn you a fistful of malice... A wise man on the other hand would rather be rebuked than receive a portion of the kings choicest silver; even if he was under pressure from tax collectors or other taxers who empower themselves in usury; his heart always seeks correction, for he has seen with his own eyes the peaks of Godly refuge. 
 
 But this is n't a story about a time, it's a story about a person. His name was *Jebidiah*, for he was beloved of the lord. This is not the same Jebidiah that Nathan the prophet of Israel named, he is not the son of David and Bethsheeba, he is not the king Solomon. Jebidiah was his own person, his name was probably a coincidence, although he would never know for certain. 
 
 Jebidiah was 21 years old, but he still lived at Saint Mary's orphanage; he has no earlier memories than the ones in that place. He never was considered for adoption, but he did n't mind, most were n't; the rare occurrences when one of his brothers of sisters were taken had always a time of great despair. Jebidiah lived in a very uncertain world. 
 
 He was 18 so he could leave if he wanted, but what was the point? Jebidiah was not a man of worth, he was a lost thing in a lost world. Jebidiah had no skills, and so he stayed at the orphanage, more of a staff member than a resident. He cooked all the meals and did all the cleaning, he did all of the yard work and did all of the shopping ( on a strict budget, mind you ); Jebidiah was a very busy person. 
 
 Jebidiah liked being busy, it was easier not to think about himself that way. He liked keeping his mind focused outwards toward the world, it was n't a happy world, but it was happier than the other side of things. So he kept himself busy, always trying to keep his wheels on the track, trying to find some cadence in the distortion. 
 
 Then one day something that would probably never happen again happened. It was late one winter night, after Jebidiah had been awoken by the crisp bite of a drafty night. He was shivering, he only had one blanket and the bedside window that had one excited him so now acted as a weak point in his rooms insulation. He sat up and hugged himself and rubbed his arms; sometimes he would stay up for hours and keep himself warm like this, he hoped it would n't resort to that tonight. He looked out the window to a sky full of stars, and suddenly he felt something very heavy and empty inside of him, and he became very sorrowful. He had never felt this sadness before, it seemed familiar to him, but it had never washed over him like this. A silver tear rolled down his cheek and down his chin, and then another. He made a whimper and then stopped himself, he did n't want to wake the children. 
 
 He looked away from the window and bowed his head, *Lord, you hear my prayer, * the thought was his own and yet foreign, he was n't even fully aware that he believed in God, *Lord, the winds move by your hand, the Sun is drawn forth by your will, and I will love you with all my heart all of my days, I will cleanse my heart further with each breath and then present it as an offering each night. Please give my strength so I can be a light for the Children of this orphanage and of this world; Yes, it is not for myself that I seek your guidance, let my suffering be the proof of this And so I implore you, find my soul worthy of your holy chastening, test the will of my spirit through a fiery baptism. My spirit will remain steadfast in perseverance until the mystic awakens. * 
 
 Jebidiah felt an invisible hand raising his chin, he opened his eyes and gazed out the window; a ball of fire pierced the night's sky, illuminating the world in a red blaze, and then it was gone. Jebidiah was starting to remember who he was, and in that moment he out-shined even the sun.
