Conviction

A small amount of light was let in through the small window that illuminated my shackles, but not the hands that came with it. A gust of wind swept through the cell, and I embraced its soft beckoning. It was quiet, at least in my mind, except for the quiet rustle of rat feet on the stone floor. There were no birds, no midnight hoots from an owl, or calls of the tide. Only silence, just for so long; soon the soldiers will come, and I will remember this silence as calm before daybreak.

“It’s such a beautiful night to be my last,” I said as the gentle wind brushed against my shackles, while the cool gaze of the full moon rested upon my face.

The moon was cast over the ocean as a dancer sways with her keeper. The city below had been set ablaze, and all that remained was ash and cries of those lost to its vicious fire. The place I had grown up in had succumbed to ruin and rampage, all from a ruler who desired destruction. An unjust emperor sat on the throne; he determined to make his subjects convert or die. I sit in a prison that has held many convicts. Many had lied, cheated, murdered… or worse. Yet they held me and my people. All because we refused to bow to him and conform.

The cell walls were bare and charred from the fire of a torch, and the cobblestones nip at my bare feet. The chains on my hands and feet are heavy, but do not weigh on my heart. Though they give some leeway, they do not reach far, but if I pull at them, I can walk far enough to see through the small window on the wall. The window allowed only the moonlight; as I peered through it, I saw the city below and the waves crashing against the prison, as if they wanted desperately to come inside. The moonlight danced on the surface of the sea and had a merry waltz along the shore. Beyond that lies the city, my city. A place I once called my home, but that time is past. Perhaps this was the cruelest part of all, more than the chains or the rats that wish to feed on my living flesh. But the window. Being able to see what is lost, and what will never come again.

“What do you see, friend?”

I was startled; I did not know I shared the cell with another. The voice came from a corner where light did not yet reach. Darkness hid his body, although I knew he was there because I could hear his chains rattle when he shifted. Although it sounded like a man’s words, the sound was not quite right. It was distorted somehow, and made me feel nervous and on edge.

I said nothing, for I do not wish to converse at such a time. I have nothing to say to a man who would rather hide from me than come into the light and make himself known.

He spoke again, this time with a clearer voice.

“What do you see, friend? Not thinking of escaping, I trust?”

I heard the rattling of chains once more, and I turned to face where his voice was coming from. After a moment, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I could see a faint outline of a man shrouded in a dark cloak. Although I could see the outline of his limbs and the chains that held him, I was unable to see his face.

He asked a third time.

“What do you see, friend?”

I did not think to deny him a third time. Perhaps he is in a similar predicament I am in; maybe we face the same destiny. I could find comfort in that thought. I turned away from the man and looked back at the window.

“I see the moon, and the tide it pulls with it. I imagine myself on a boat, sailing far away from here.”

“On your father’s boat, I assume?” the man said.

I swiftly turned to the man once more in bewilderment. How would he know of my father’s boat?

I hesitated for a moment before replying, in hopes of reclaiming my thoughts and emotions.

“Yes, in my father’s boat,” I said abruptly as I turned from the window and returned to where my chains led in the corner adjacent to the man. I left my thoughts of my imaginary life of sailing into the night, for it is foolish to imagine a life that could never happen.

I sat down facing the man, and felt the cobblestone beneath me still be warm. At least the cobblestone will remember that I was here. Even if the world doesn’t.

Out of the silence, the man spoke again, this time with a scratchy voice, almost as if he hadn’t had water in days.

“It’s not hopeless, you know,” he said.

“What’s not?” This time I did not hesitate to reply, for I was intrigued by his words.

“This place. Your future. You could leave here, you know.”

Even if I did, the world I once knew is not as it was. My home lies in ruin. A false ruler sits upon the throne. And he cuts down those who oppose him.

I looked in the corner where he was chained, hoping to see the man I was conversing with. But the darkness covered him well, as if he were radiating the shadows around him.

“I can help with that, if you let me. For a… small price.” Although I could not see his face, it sounded as if he was smirking when he said it.

“I wish to be free,” I said, finally finding strength in my words.

“You wish to be free? There is no freedom. Not in this world. Everyone belongs to someone.”

His words cut me, and I felt my brow furrow. Who was this man? And why was he talking in riddles? I didn’t have long to think before he spoke again.

“You are a fisherman, yes?”

“I am—was. Was a fisherman.”

“Oh? What changed?” he asked in a steady voice.

“I expect, after tonight, my days of fishing are over.”

“Don’t be so sure. You could leave this place. Start over in a new world, where no one knows your name.”

I fell silent for a moment, as if I believed what he said. As I thought about it, I realized I could make it easier on myself and give up my way of life, do what the man said, and start anew. But to deny this life I have chosen would be to deny my very soul. To deny myself. My maker. I could not; I will not, no matter what he offers.

A silence followed, for he must have known I would think about what he said. But out of the silence, he spoke again. This time, his voice sounded distorted again, similar to the first time he spoke.

“You are a fool,” he said harshly.

“Am I?” I said as a small smile crossed my face.

“Yes, you are a fool to think you belong to him while living in a lie.”

I was taken aback, for how could he know if I was living a lie? I turned towards his corner again, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face.

“A lie? Why do you think that?” I replied in a questioning tone.

“You know of what I speak.”

For a moment he was quiet, and I waited in anticipation.

Though the darkness still shrouded his appearance, he turned his head slightly toward me. I let my eyes adjust as I squinted to see the man I was sharing the cell with, only to barely see the bottom of his face.

“Your brother,” he whispered, sneering as he smiled broadly.

My face flushed, and suddenly, I had lost my words, as if they had been stolen from my mouth.

I studied the man’s face, or what I could see of it. And although I could only see half, the part I could see felt darker than the shadow he hid in.

His mouth looked dry, and his teeth were as yellow as gold. His skin was beyond pale; it seemed almost grey, as if he was devoid of any blood and life had been drained from him.

I’m not sure what frightened me more, his eerie smile, or the fact that he knows of my brother. But maybe he doesn’t know what I’ve done; I can only hope as much.

“I know what you did,” he said. The smile did not leave his face.

I said nothing, hoping that I misheard him.

But he said it again.

“I know what you did.”

This time I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, he repeated himself.

“I know what you did.”

This smile stayed on his face, never moving. I looked away from his face; I feared if I looked any longer, I would never be able to reply.

Before I could reply, I was interrupted again by a sound in the distance. It sounded like the creak of a metal door, maybe two cells down from mine. I could hear the metal clanking of the soldier’s shoes and the cobblestone beneath him. Though I could not hear what was said, only a moment after the door was opened, a splintering scream echoed throughout the chamber. A man was being taken from his cell to where I don’t know; I only hope that I am not next, that I could be spared, that they will find reason. I turned away from the passageway, hoping to shield my ears from the deafening shriek as it carried off into the distance.

“What do you know of my brother?” I answered finally.

“Oh. Your brother.” He started, as if he meant to get more information out of me.

“He was a good man, a hard worker, a strong leader. You were none of those things, yet you were older. You envied him. You envied his spirit, his position with your father. You feared he would be left your father’s belongings after he passed, even though he was younger.”

“Stop. You don’t know what you’re saying,” I said, with anger rising in my chest.

Yet he continued.

“So you led him away from the house. From the safety and comfort it offered. You said there was something you wanted to show him. A surprise.”

“Stop! I will hear no more of this!”

My voice shifted from anger to begging.

“There was a river that you played in when you were boys. But it turned angry and rigid, and was no longer suitable for play. So you pushed him in.”

“Enough!”

Though I begged him to stop, my voice fell on deaf ears. He was unrelenting.

“And let the water swallow him whole. They found his body days later, washed ashore. His death was devastating to your parents, especially your mother. Isn’t that right? It killed her, didn’t it? The pain of losing her favorite son.”

“Enough!” I said. My voice now weakened, as my pleas slowly turned into a muffled sob. I turned my face towards him to see him facing me. At last, I saw his face. His eyes were red like a flame in the night; his lips were parched and cracked, and his skin was grey and sagged. Yet his smile remained still, eerie and disturbing, as if he felt joy from my sorrow.

In the distance, I heard a familiar noise. The soldier’s clanking boots on the floor; this time he passed by my cell, but opened the door next to mine. The man went with him. He looked far older than me; his back was arched, and his hair was patchy. I could almost see his bones through his skin; it looked as though he hadn’t eaten in days. He saw me as he walked with the soldier; his chains sagged to his feet. But before he left my view, our eyes met. They looked like a void where light couldn’t escape; I now knew the meaning of empty, and it lay with that man. Damned to a post for his faith. The cell had broken him. His eyes looked as if his soul had left, or if he had been defeated and all hope was lost.

Was it?

Out of the silence, the man spoke again, this time in a harsh and accusatory tone.

“His fate will be yours. Unlike him, you deserve to die.”

“I do deserve to die. But you forget, I was paid for.”

I failed to turn the man again, and his smile finally faded, but into a dark and daring grimacing scowl.

“You think you will be forgiven?!” the man said as his voice rose from questioning to anger.

“Do not confuse yourself for a pure and innocent man! You will never be clean; your shadow will always carry your evil and sinful deeds.”

He steadied himself as he slowed his words.

“You cannot escape your past. If you could not inherit your father’s boat, why do you believe you will inherit the carpenter’s kingdom?” he said in a low voice.

“What do you think awaits you past this cell? You know your sentence; you will be burned at the stake. I give you another chance… To leave this way of life, and come with me. I will give you all that you ask for and more. You said an evil man is on the throne. I could give you his title, his wealth, and you could rule this land. You wish to live, don’t you?”

He hid his face from me again and looked towards the cell door. Though I could not see his face, I knew he was smirking.

“I suppose I don’t want to die,” I said with a sigh.

“But I’d rather rot on a post than live by you. I may be consumed in flames in this lifetime, but I will inherit my Father’s kingdom and be crowned in honor.”

“I know who you are, and why you’ve come here. But more importantly than that, I know who I am. I am known and loved. Though my name will be buried in the earth, it is written in the eternal book.”

“Do you honestly think he’ll forgive you? After all you’ve done, after the atrocities you’ve committed.”

“He already has,” I said as I left my spot on the cold stone floor.

His face emerged again from the darkness, and I could see it again. His hideous face. Uglier than death itself. I looked at him and felt no fear. I felt no sadness. In fact, I felt nothing at all.

My final words to him were these:

“I no longer belong to you. I have a new master. A new reason to live and to die.”

He stood to meet my gaze, and his smile faded into a hollow stare.

“We shall see.”

Those were his final words to me.

A dove landed on the perch in front of the window. He sat proudly, as if he were sent to deliver a message, although he had nothing strapped to his foot. He looked at me, and for a moment, I didn’t feel afraid; I didn’t feel overwhelmed; I didn’t… feel.

I felt nothing.

And for the first time, perhaps in my life.

The dove let out a faint sound as it spread its magnificent wings and flew away. As he soared, I felt a sudden warmth on my face, and the sun peeked over the ocean’s crest, and it began to rise.

I have seen the sun again at its birth. I felt its warmth. I am not afraid.

When I looked to the corner where the man had sat, he had vanished.

A faint clanking noise began to ring through the hall. It got louder and louder until I could make out that it was the metal footsteps of the guard. He grabbed the key chained to his belt and lifted it to the metal bar door.

But I knew he hadn’t come to set me free, but to lead me to my final descent.

My time had come.

The guard said nothing, except, “Come with me.” He said it almost as if he regretted it, as if he was truly sullen that I would not be coming back.

I followed him gladly into the town square, where the executions occurred.

I looked above to my left, where I saw the King and his subjects, who made no interjection on my behalf. To my right, I saw soldiers piling the bodies of those who came before me.

I was to be laid among them.

Back to the Earth from which I came.

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”

I began to recite a limerick my mother had always repeated before she went to bed, perhaps to bring me comfort, perhaps to think of happier things. If they were to be my last, I would like to think of the good.

The soldier tied me to the post and tied the ropes tightly behind my back. I stood on a pile of wood that was bloody and had charred fragments of I’m not sure what. The stench was overwhelming; it smelled like charred flesh and burned my eyes.

A soldier with a torch walked over to me and held the flame to the straw and wood beneath my feet.

Within seconds, it caught fire.

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” I said again.

I looked towards the sky and saw the dove above, as if it had been waiting for me.

I took a breath of relief and closed my eyes, for what I have seen will not compare to what’s ahead.