That afternoon when I died…

What does it feel to have a 20 cm spike stuck in your wrist?  It hurts!  My arms were pulled out as far as they could go, then they nailed my wrists to the blood stained rotten wood.  Six solders was enough to do the task I guess.  Their leader drove his knee into my chest and spit in my face.  They bent my legs and drove a third spike through my feet.

What does it feel like to be nailed to a cross, lifted up, and jolted into a shallow hole?  It hurts!  I killed a man, I stuck my knife in his throat.  He made a gulping, choking sound.  Was he drinking his own blood?  It sprayed in my eyes, and on my face.  He looked surprised and scared, then his face froze, and he fell to the ground.  When they finally caught me, I was in jail three days, then sentenced to death.  These Romans don’t mess around.

What does it feel like to be dying in front of an angry crowd, next to a religious fanatic?  It hurts!  Someone thew a hard rotten vegetable into my stomach, it stole the little breath I had left.  The third guy being executed was yelling at the silent guy in the middle who looked like a horse trampled him.  His face was unrecognizable, where was his nose?  His face looked like it hurt?

The crowd is yelling for him to get down?  Is he some sort of conjurer?  I don’t understand, but desperate, me and the other fellow join in.  “Save us! If you can get us out of this!  What are you waiting for?”  What does it feel like to yell with your fingers numb, and your wrists twisting a bloody hole around a rusted metal spike?  It hurts!

What does it feel like to feel your life being slowly cut out of your body?  It is scary.  The guy in the middle, he is talking to someone, he is calm, I hear his voice whispering under the pile of pulp face he has.  I look at the bits of flesh caked with blood in his beard.  What does it feel like to realize you deserve to die, for killing someone?  It hurts!

Realizing my fate, getting scared, I never believed in anything but myself.  Is there a world beyond this one.  I am scared of dying.  I ask the guy in the middle, “Will you remember me when you return to your kingdom?”  I almost don’t believe I am saying it, I feel something moving inside of me, pushing me toward the truth.  The other guy is still yelling.  “Shut up!  Shut up!  I shout, we deserve to die!  This man doesn’t!  Leave him alone.”   What does it feel like to die shouting? It’s a blur.

4 thoughts on “That afternoon when I died…

  1. The man in this piece did not do anything to deserve this. He was innocent! But he chose to do it in order to preserve the posterity. No angel was ready for the crucial death, the death of the cross, the deadliest death ever. But he did it because of me, you and the unborn ones! Is it not worthy to reciprocate this love to him. He is the man from Bethlehem of Judea in person of Jesus Christ. My savior!

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