To Go Free -by Jeremiah B. Clancy (1st place winner at RSC ’12) Alone. Shackled, and locked in. Within the deepest belly of this Roman prison, sits a man thinking…waiting for his time to come. There’s just no way I am ever going to escape, thought the man. This has to be the worst prison I’ve ever been in . No, not just a prison, a dungeon. Pondering within himself at just what to do, this murderer wonders just when the Roman centurions will come for him and drag him away to his crucifixion. Me, and the two thieves, thought the man. Sigh…There’s just no getting out of this one. I just wish they’d behead me and get it over with quickly. I’ve seen what they do to criminals like me. And, just for the gruesome fun of it, they might pull out the cat-o-nine tails. The man lets out a gloomy moan as he slumps down on his ‘cot.’ As he surveys his cell one last time, he spots a small mouse that just crawled out into the open. The man tries to rise for a closer look, but the rattle of his chains echoes off the stone floor and walls, scaring the little mouse away. “No, don’t run! Well, at least you can.” Now already up, he staggers over to peer out the only light source besides a lone torch: a small hole. The man can’t see much, but what he does see makes him sick to his stomach. “Oh-no.” groans the man. They are building a cross, for me! And…and… “Oh!” Still groaning from the sight he just saw, the man slumps down to his knees, wanting to weep so badly. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to shut out the thoughts of his ever so close future, only to drift into a light slumber, filled with nightmares. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. The man is awakened by this repetitive banging. Still groggy, he tilts his head in thought, wondering what the noise is. More banging, like a mallet on wood. Then some muffled talking outside. He quickly gets as close as he can to the small hole in the wall, pushing his face against the cold rock. Why would they be nailing a new title piece over mine? It couldn’t be that hard to spell ‘Barabbas.’ And out of all the people on this earth, Pilate the governor is writing it! Maybe he wants to personally watch me die. Or just… CLANG! Just then, breaking his thoughts, the sound of the thick, prison door swinging open, echoes down the hall. Golden sunlight pours into the darkness, bathing the entrance with dust. Two enormous centurions march down the hall to Barabbas’ cell. “Alright, come on you filthy rag of a human,” gruffed the already angry-looking centurion. “It’s time.” Barabbas, knowing what is coming, stands as tall and true as he can, almost as a soldier would. One of the guards unchains him from the wall while the other grabs a strong grip on Barabbas’ arm. But as they walk down the hall toward the exit, their grip on Barabbas’ arms tightens increasingly. Ah! Something big must be bothering these guys, thought Barabbas as his fingers lost feeling. It feels like they are going to rip my arms off! As they escort him outside through the main entrance, Barabbas shields his dilated eyes from the burning sunlight. But before his eyes can adjust, he feels the most unexpected thing happen. Cla-CHINK! Off fall his shackles from his wrists, unlatched by none other than his centurion escorts! “If it so pleases the Jewish people,” scoffed one of the guards, “You will be released due to your ridiculous Passover customs. Some forgiving wimp of Nazareth has been chosen to take your place.” Barabbas, with mouth agape in disbelief and pure shock, is at a loss of words. “Is…is t-this true?” stammered Barabbas. “Yes!” shouted the guard as he shoves Barabbas in the shoulder. “Now leave this place before I kill you right here and feed you to the dogs!” Shocked, amazed, and fearful for what the centurion might do, Barabbas, a convicted man, ran towards the main gate of the prison, mind and emotions racing. I know it, they are going to spear me right in the back as soon as I walk out, I just know it. Now stopping to a halt in the street, he turns back around to see the spear that he knows is flying toward him. But no spear, only closing gates, locking him out of the Roman prison. And the only words he could muster up were these: “I must see this Man of Nazareth.” “Well, you’d better hurry then,” said a bystander who had been watching. “They say that the mob has almost arrived at Mount Golgotha, driving the Man up it. I couldn’t bring myself to go and watch them slaughter that Man.” After arriving at Golgotha, Barabbas watches as the Roman soldiers hold down this Jesus, as he has learned, and drive 6-inch nails through His hands and feet, all without crying out in pain or even uttering a single word. As he watches the mob spit, scoff, mock, and curse at this Man, raised up for all to see, Barabbas, the freed prisoner, is seen with warm tears streaming down his face, knowing what has just happened. “That should have been me.” The End.
Posted on: Mon, 21 Oct 2013 03:23:33 +0000
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