[1]We followed Jesi down the river until it opened into the sea. By mid-afternoon, our ship reached a small coastal village where we found the lead boats docked. Jesi stood among the villagers, speaking to them at the pier. As I tied our boat to the dock, I overheard his familiar demand. They must bow and worship him, the god Jesi. Unlike our starving town, these people seemed well-fed, so Jesi offered them something different. He promised to heal their sick and crippled.
A blind man, assisted by a young woman, stepped forward and cried out, “Please, Jesi! I will gladly bow and pray at your feet for a chance to see again!” The woman, his daughter, helped him to his knees, pleading, “Please, Lord Jesi! My father cannot provide for our family. I am forced to beg for alms to keep us fed. If he could see, he could work again. Please, heal him!”
Jesi raised his hands dramatically and declared that he had heard the man’s prayer. He turned to a nearby table where a strange black chest rested in the sunlight. It was smooth, with sharp edges and a pair of intricate locks on its front. I watched as he snapped open the locks, and the chest opened in two halves, like a clamshell revealing its treasure within.
From my spot at the dock, I saw him open the lid, revealing a dazzling light that reflected off its contents. The villagers gasped, awestruck by the brilliance, believing it was divine. But I could see what they could not. Inside the chest were tools.
They were unlike any I had ever seen, but tools nonetheless.
Jesi reached into the chest and pulled out a thick, rigid glove, which he slipped onto his hand. He waved it over the blind man’s face and, with his other hand, touched a strange glowing tablet that shimmered before him. He manipulated the symbols on the tablet, then spoke loudly, ensuring all could hear.
“Lift your face toward me, and open your eyes as wide as you can.”
The man did as he was told, and Jesi hovered his gloved fingers over the man’s eyes. I thought I heard a faint humming sound, but I wasn’t sure. Then Jesi proclaimed, “You came to me blind and wretched, but now you shall see. Let your eyes be opened!”
The man gasped. “I can see! I can see!” He turned to his daughter. “Tilly, my sweet, when did you get that blemish on your face? Never mind! I don’t care. I can see you again!”
The man fell at Jesi’s feet, kissing the ground in gratitude. “Thank you! Thank you, my Lord! I am yours forever.”
Jesi smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Villagers rushed to bring their loved ones who were afflicted by disease and injury, eager to witness more miracles. As the second blind man was healed, I sat at the bow of the ship, watching the frenzy with a heavy heart. These people did not understand what I saw. Jesi’s “miracles” were no work of divine power but a trick performed with strange tools.
Jesi healed another blind man before announcing that he would take a break for afternoon tea. He pointed to a man missing a leg and ordered him to kneel and pray silently for healing while he sipped his tea. With great difficulty, the man obeyed, his face contorted in pain as he knelt before Jesi.
[1] Diary of Miracles (Jesi Saga)
This story is part of a collection of narrative entries, eyewitness records, and sacred illustrations documenting the rise and fall of the false god known as Jesi. This account spans many pages and includes artistic depictions and individual miracle stories recorded by a witness whose voice grows ever more strained under the weight of truth.
This story is part of one continuous chronicle. Treat each section as a chapter within the same diary. Each page is part of a fragmented gospel of a false messiah, exposed through the steady hand of one who dared to witness.
As you read, keep in mind that this is not a story of salvation. It is a cautionary record, and like all cautionary tales, its lesson may arrive only after it’s too late.
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