The Once Captive...

...an excersize in creative writing and self expression born of swift inspiration.

The stage is set, a life not yet lived is held captive, stranded, within the enemies stronghold. It is my life, I am the captive. Night and day are but sides of the same black coin to me, flipping and rolling in the shadows of this confine I have called home. My captor is none other than despair though it is known by many names and has assumed many forms in an effort to oppress this race of imperfect cogs and gears. We have called it despair and loss though many of my people have been in it long and have now come to call it power or even hope. I weep for these sons and daughters of my land in this cell I am shackled to.

At night, or perhaps during the day, I hear their cry's echoing. Scream and wail, but within the moans and tears a language of another kind emerges. We have come to know it well here in this dark world. With tears they love each other and with frightened yelping they reach out for each other in support, unable to leave their rooms and provide other assistance. Yet this goodness, that seems to be intrinsic to our people however poorly upheld, it bears an insignia. We all know it and we, those who have refused the darkness, long for it's promise.

It is now my tenth birthday, or is it my fortieth, and I have known no joy nor held worthy memory. My life wastes away within this prison.

Wait, what was that noise, like nothing I have ever heard? More to the point what is this I feel in the dark? Are the shadows trembling as they seem? My insignia, the brand of my lover glows hot as black tendrils of hopelessness recoil and hiss. I must steady myself and understand this but the cry's of my people, who call out day and night, sound different. It is not my people who call out, but the darkness. It is withering and failing its fight, but what terrible thing moves forward in this place that my nightmare should flee in its wake? I tremble.

My cell door shakes and the locks within groan. As the door swings open on it's rusted hinges a form stands before me. A man, but no man as well. My heart stops and I hold a shallow breath of this disgusting dungeon air. The shadows fear this man and rightly so as He holds some potent authority over us all. Yet He is here for me.

He steps to my corner, my own private abyss, and bends down to my ear whispering a Word I have never known and I hear my shackles crack and drop over the sound of the shadows serpent-like hiss. I am stunned to the core by His Word. I cannot speak it, I cannot write it, but somehow it translated just as smooth as those once rusted hinges did turn for Him. It echoes in my heart still, it says "You are Mine, You are Free, You can come with Me, You are loved."

My tears, once falling for a lost hope, now fall with a vision of revival. My maker has come and my brand is burning like a hot coal. It hurts me, but as the moments pass I find joy in that pain. I crack a smile.

He steps back and new presence invades the room. The shadows retreat completely from this new opposition. It is hard to make out in the dim light, but it's tendrils surround me and caress my emaciated form. It is strong and it is gentile as it searches me. My new master nods and begins to turn from my sight, but I am unable to move and unable to speak for Him. This new presence holds me firm on the cold harsh floor. Am I to be left un-attended? Am I to know only this one peace in my days I wonder, but the new presence assures me as it sinks deep within me that I am never going to be alone again. I shudder from its potency.

My original rescuer is gone already and the shadows are testing their limits again, seeking a way to oppress me once more. Yet, my form is no longer fragile and my insignia is aflame. It glows outward and burns the shadows that seek to destroy it. I stand with my new counsel, my new partner within, and we move out through the door that held me so very long. It seems paper thin as I walk by and I pause to wonder how it ever held me.

A surge of heat hits me from down the hall and I look its direction. It is my rescuer in all His glory standing in front of a door much like mine. He looks at me with urgency and then points with a steady hand and a graceful finger to the door across from mine. It is still shut and though it may be as thin as mine it looks solid and heavy, the locks thick and old. My rescuer says another Word down the hall and my new constant Counsel echoes it back up to me. "Begin." With a deep breath and a fear of failure I reach for the door that contains untold souls like mine, locked within this dark dungeon of despair and strife.