It was me

on

The whip descended with a swish, cutting through the air that was thick with horror, pain and anguish. It landed with a thwack on the mangled back of the prisoner that looked like it had been passed through a grill. The bones appeared whitish, where the muscles have been completely removed. All around the arena were splatters of blood.

The man barely moved as the whips descended repeatedly, his brain was already deadened from the overwhelming sensations of pain that was presented to it. His breathing was shallow and fast, his lips dry. He was dehydrated from the loss of blood and struggled to get oxygen into starving lungs.

The officer was relentless. His hands never faltered in the delivery of the blows. He seemed to be relishing the task at hand. His face and garment was dotted with blood.

There was something familiar about him as I looked at him from where I stood among the crowd. I had seen him somewhere. His every movements triggered some vague recollections in my mind. Try as I did, I couldn’t figure it out.

Finally, he stopped and threw the whip away. He spat at the prisoner that was now lying face down and amidst gasps kicked him in the side. The prisoner grunted.

I heard a cry from my right side and turned to see a woman struggling to rush towards the condemned. She was being held by two men who were finding it hard to hold her. I presumed she must be the prisoner’s mother. Her grief was palpable and my heart constricted in my chest.

What had this man done to deserve such brutality? I wondered. There was a general murmur among the crowd as two soldiers came forward and lifted the prisoner up and dressed him in royal robes and placed a crown made from roses that were still on their stem. The thorns pierced his brow and more blood gushed out. The soldiers gathered round and bowed before the man in mock respect. The one that had whipped the man earlier struck him on the head with a spear and thrust the thorny crown further on his head. The only sign of pain was the opening of his mouth, he was too weak to cry out.

The sight made me tremble and my knees were knocking against each other. How cruel could people get? I looked away but quickly turned back. The gesture the soldier did caught my eye. It was familiar.

I looked closely at him, he appeared to be the leader of the group of soldiers as the other seemed to defer to him. He wore a ring on his right middle finger that glittered as it caught the sun. It bore the insignia of Caesar.

He looked at the crowd and I saw his face fully for the first time.

I gasped.

It was me.

I was staring into a face that was unmistakably mine, with my dark brown eyes and the cleft in the chin and down to the scar on my forehead. I smiled, rather he smiled and I burst into tears. I recognize that smile and it belonged to me. I closed my eyes in pain.

When I opened them, I blinked. It took a while to realize where I was. The images before me was moving in rapid succession. I had dozed off on the sofa while watching the ‘’passion of the Christ’’.

I was shaking and my eyes were wet. It was a dream but the message could not be clearer.

It was me.

I did this to Him and He bore it all out of His love for me. It was me and that knowledge filled me with so much guilt and shame.

The movie forgotten, I knelt by the sofa and said that prayer I had heard long ago but refused to pray. For the first time in years, I opened my heart to Him who has patiently stood at the door of my heart and knocked.

That night, I became a changed man.

image courtesy: www.google.com

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Happy new month, dear readers! Happy Sunday!

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6 Comments Add yours

  1. Yemie says:

    This is a very inspirationally touching piece and very creatively written. My high point was when the supposed protagonist, who was all so empathetic towards the plight of the condemned, realized all so perplexedly; that he it was, meting and dishing out the brutally deadly blows to the innocent Man, thus doubling albeit strangely, as the antagonist. Gosh Topazo, that part just blew me away! That was dynamite and so well thought-out. Plenty kudos brotherly, you did soooo exceptionally well. I’m just speechless!

    As long as we refuse to accept Jesus Christ as our personal Lord and Saviour, then we’re really no different from the actual ones who crucified Him. Infact, we’re worse off as we’d be crucifying Him all over again. Let none be deceived, Christ did not die in vain and for as many as has refused to accept Him; the Kingdom of God, Heaven; will remain a mirage. God no dey take Him Pikin joke sam sam. May God help us all.

    1. topazo says:

      Amen o my dear sister. May God help us to always remember His death and always live worthy.

      Thanks for your comments

  2. janyshol says:

    May God help us, we often tend to crucify Christ any tym we commit sin, may God open our inner eyes more to see and retrace our steps and li e a righteous life everyday. God bless u for sharing

  3. Nur'ayn says:

    Beautiful narrative man, enjoyed it.

    1. topazo says:

      Thanks a bunch

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