Continued research for my next historical novel: Peter and Paul.
Ready or not, a time comes to start writing. Not that I have all the answers, but I think I exposed most of the questions; at least enough of them to start the story.
I will continue with research; I usually do while I write. Below a short sample how the story could (but not necessarily will) start.
Chapter ONE (draft)
“I miss fishing,” he said out loud to no one in particular, his mind drifting back, far, far back to a different life, a different reality. His eyes wandered aimlessly, reaching beyond today, beyond the immediate, a wistful smile barely widening his mouth.
“I miss fishing,” he repeated, seemingly to himself.
They were all gathered, still together, in Bethany, were the Master had left them. Only one week ago. He didn’t say goodbye. No, not goodbye, just so long. In fact He’d said that He’d never leave them. Never.
It didn’t feel like it.
"I miss fishing,” Shimon said, once again, his tone filled with longing. It was beginning to sound like a far-eastern mantra the Master once told him about.
Then he sighed deeply. He always sighed when he thought of the Mount of Olives. That is where he escaped into memories of way-back-when. When he’d first met the Yeshûa. Then he relaxed and allowed his mind to retreat even further back. Back to when he’d cast nets in the Lake Gennesareth. The Lake of his childhood.
“I’ll make you fisher of men,” He’d said.
Only He didn’t. And now, He’d left. And I am still here. Alone. Quite alone. Why do they look up to me? I am nobody. I’m ignorant. I know nothing. I am a fisherman. A fisherman of fish, in my lake.
His eyes reached far from shore, fishing for memories.
(to be continued)