Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Joy (05/18/06)
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TITLE: Unfettered | Previous Challenge Entry
By Crystal Coyne
05/24/06 -
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She struggles against the bit of rope gnawing painfully at her bound flesh, fresh blood oozing anew from her wrists and ankles in her torrent for freedom. Exhausted, she tilts her head up while simultaneously looking down attempting to see beyond the impervious blindfold, but darkness as black as a starless night is all that greets her. She looses her frustration in a heavy guttural wail, cruelly absorbed by the rag lodged in her mouth.
“This isn’t happening,” she thinks to herself. “This can’t be happening to me. Not now, please not now. There’s so much left to do.” Her tears would be a river if the fabric cutting across her eyes didn’t soak up every last drop. “I can’t do this, please God, I can’t do this.”
But the image of a man beaten and bloodied beyond recognition blazes into her mind and she remembers a servant isn’t greater than her master.
Screaming tears into her thoughts, ripping her into reality. Dread reverberates through her body as the pungent odor of fresh blood wafts towards her. A flood of faces cloud her memory, companions captured beside her when their underground church was invaded. Bile claws at the back of her throat as realization washes over her. It is happening.
The squelch of aching hinges erupts in her ears as the heavy door to her black domain is thrust open. The unmistakable thud of a body lands next to her and the door shuts again with a piercing slam. She holds back her breath against the terror of unknown silence, heart thundering against her chest.
“Hello,” a voice whispers, colored in high-pitched panic.
Exhaling deeply, she attempts to articulate her relief but the gag only translates her words into indistinguishable grunts.
“Look, I don’t know who you are but if you want to live, you’d better forget about all that Jesus nonsense.”
She shakes her head against the words but the voice continues, seething with worldly wisdom. “Jesus will forgive us. I mean, he knows we don’t have a choice, doesn’t he? They’re gonna kill us!”
She blinks back overwhelming sorrow of a soul lost in the iron jaws of fear and realizes that it could be her, huddled in the proverbial pits of despair. “That will not be me,” she says to herself, determination crushing the walls of looming terror.
“Holy Father,” she prays, her spirit surging with revitalized strength, “I know you can free me from these bonds and this prison and I know there is nothing in this world or beyond that is out of your will or control. If my death can somehow bring you glory, take it and help me die for you as I have always tried to live. Thank you for being here with me now.”
She pauses, stunned with excitement. Today she will fall at the feet of Jesus, her death merely the gateway into eternal life, an existence she has always longed for. She turns as the voice screeches, “I hear them- they’re coming!”
She breathes one last prayer for the person next to her. “Forgive her fear as you have forgiven mine.”
Holy arms of comfort embrace her. She is ready.
Rough hands wrench her from the cell and drag her into the corridor. She is thrust on her knees with her head grinding against a block of wood, vaguely aware it’s already soaked with the accused before her. She is charged with being a Christian, of claiming the deity of Jesus and her judge and jury is the one holding the sword just feet above her head.
“Denounce your Jesus,” a man says, showering her with hot breath and strings of spittle. He presses his thumb to the sword’s blade, blood bubbling like a geyser on contact, “or this’ll be yours.” His mouth twists in sinister pleasure. Laughing, he smears the blood on her face and yanks the gag from her mouth. “What’ll it be, little girl?!”
There is no moment for thought, only the flashing knowledge that today she will be with Jesus. A peaceful smile spreads wide across her face. “Thank you for delivering me to my savior,” she says boldly, her words cascading with uncontainable joy.
A sword swings, swiftly finding its mark and her soul ascends, unfettered.
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