Author's Note: I was cleaning out my room and boxes full of old school stuff when I came upon this scrappy bit of paper that I had written probably during study class - year 11 or year 12, and it touched me. So I decided to write it out, clean it up and post it. Enjoy =)
He runs, the wind pitching, howling, screaming in his ears, pounding blood and ragged breathing tearing through his body. He doesn't know why his feet have led him here or why there are tears still wet on his cheeks. Rational thinking disappears from sight as all thoughts meld down to one.
Must get away.
The words whisper in his ear, cruel, taunting...
and he screws his face against the merciless assault, as his actions, his blackness, his weakness is repeated, displayed over and over again.
He opens his eyes, seeing the looming darkness stretch above him, around him; a pitch black canvas. His bare feet touch gravel rock, the wind sifts through his hair. On top of the escarpment he is like an ant on a mountain, insignificant against the malevolent sky. Before him is a railing; grey, metal,
Separating him from the chasm below, dropping to the city of tiny lights and moving things. The only thing separating him from his freedom.
"Jump." The cynical voice whispers in his ears.
Hands trembling, quiet tears on his face, he grips the rail with two hands. One jump... that's all it'll take... one adrenalin-filled vault over the rail. He steadies his trembling legs, tightens his grip...
Fear is now an insignificant blot against the pain and ugliness that courses through him. He longs to break free...
But an instant,
a breath in time...
a whispered word,
He stops, heart pounding furiously. "Who's there?"
The voice calls again, more commanding this time, but calm... soothing...
He can't see anything, but the air around him seems to have changed.
The most incredible, soft, warm feeling of protection,
Could it be?
Could anyone possibly love him?
No one's ever loved him before.
He willingly surrenders as gentle wings enfold him, surround him, encompass him, breathe life into his frail body.
You're mine, the voice whispers.
I have a plan for you.
You are beautiful.
On and on, the words whisper life into his soul.
He's placed on solid ground, and crying, not tears of pain but tears of joy, of gratitude for the One who sees him and knows him... better than he knows himself...
And he bows his head in surrender before the God who loves him...