SHORT STORIES
“Moreover the law entered that the offense
might abound. But where sin abounded, grace abounded much more.” (Romans 5:20)
The execution was tomorrow
morning. I sat in my prison cell looking out the window wondering, daydreaming,
and filling my mind with good thoughts to draw my mind away from the looming
darkness that lay ahead.
But I couldn’t. Tomorrow was too
near to not think about. No one had come forward. In our time, it was allowed
for people, especially close family members to take up the place for their
loved ones in times of execution…but no one had come forward. Even though I
knew no one would, I still hoped.
I laughed. In the 13 years I had
been on this earth, no one loved the other person so much they’d die for them.
Mothers hid. Fathers got busy pretending to harvest unripe corn. Siblings
feigned illness, spouses and supposed loved ones disappeared from the face of
the earth.
But the tradition went on.
Thirteen days before execution to allow for anyone to come forward. This was my
13th day; my last day on this miserable earth. Even if anyone came
forth, no one was bold enough to go through to the final stage.
In spite of my struggle, tears
rolled down my face. I knew what I had done. Was it justifiable? In my little
head it was. To the world? I was the devil’s first born…
They deserved to die. Both of
them. Both father and son. Both of them I had called Father and Brother. They
had taken away the one thing that gave me any pride. My virginity.
Ever since I was 8, I had nursed
the idea of presenting them to their creator on a platter of gold. By the time
of my 13th birthday, I was ready. I made sure my face was the last
thing they saw. They were already weak from the poisoned fresh water I served
to them that morning.
Then slowly but surely I drove the
dagger I had purchased from the pawn shop a year ago into their hearts. Hearts
that were made from nothing less than dirt. They deserved this. Killing them
was nothing compared to what they had done to me. They were maggots.
Yes, I was found out, but not
after my “purpose” was fulfilled…
I let myself fall into a dreamless
quiet sleep. Morning came and my heart beat so fast. Yes, I was scared. I
didn’t want to die. Not yet. I could hear the footsteps of the guards opening
the jail doors of those booked for execution. I squeezed myself tighter into my
corner but they still found me and dragged me out. I tried to struggle but it
was useless. One of them scoffed. There was no use.
They tied me to that formidable
cross and pierced the parts of my body that needed piercing. Then from a
distance, they would shoot my little heart out to make sure the job was done.
I began to cry so loudly I didn’t
notice the man who stepped out of the crowd. But I heard His voice, loud and
clear, “I will die for her.” What did He mean by he will die for me? The
thirteen days had passed. I was already on this cross. Was this man stupid? To
die in a person’s place never did make sense to me…but I hoped.
Then He said again, this time even
louder, “I will die for all of them.” There were eighteen of us in number.
Silence. So deafening that when a
woman’s wrapper fell we all heard the sound. I can’t tell what happened next,
and I don’t know how the jailers agreed to one man for all, but I remember
weeping and looking sorrowfully at the Man who saved my life. My Redeemer.
To follow the tradition which gave
volunteers the opportunity to change their minds, the jail guards had beat Him
mercilessly. His face was so contorted; it was pain to dare look at Him. He
bled from every side. As far as I knew, no one allowed themselves to go further
than the beatings. But this Man did. This Man meant business.
In a few minutes, He bowed His
head and died and for me. For all of us. My whole world crumbled. It was an ultimate
sacrifice I couldn’t fathom. One I could never explain. It wasn’t one done out
of recognition or heroism. It was one of an immense and indescribable love. For
me. For all of us. An ultimate sacrifice given even for me.
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