Short Story: I Am Free
I have done terrible deeds. I have done horrifying sins against others. I have no love. I have made innocent people go through torture. I have gone through suffering. Then he took it away, and they set me free. I may have been abandoned, but I was not trapped anymore. I am free.
My name is Barabbas.
It all started that morning. I thought it was the last day of my life. Well, truthfully, I knew my last day was coming, but I never thought it would be that day. I hadn’t thought about my execution; all I knew was my damp, musty, grimy, smelly jail cell. You see, I killed a man, and then resisted the authority. I feel no guilt, he deserved his fatal death: he stole my wife. My love left me. I was thrown into jail. Even though I was released, killing became my hobby, my life, my addiction. Seeing the fear in a person’s eyes right before their last breath gave me joy, satisfaction… the feeling of power. I have been thrown into jail many times now(I have lost count). I have gotten used to the hard, cold ground and the snarling, rude guards that gave me my stale bread and dirty water. This dreadful place, the jail cell, became my home.
It was a sunny morning, two days before the Jew’s precious Sabbath. I had just scratched another line on my jail cell wall. 106 days have passed by without a word of my release or my death sentence. I sighed and looked up through the barred window, yellow light found its way into the dark cell. I was surprised when the guards gave me a cell with a window. I assumed I would be thrown into a small cell with no windows or light. I lucked out this time. My window over looked Pilot’s courtyard; daily I could listen to the crowd's shouts of protest and the proud voice of Pilot. My cell was a bit too far away to hear what Pilot said, so I assumed the case through the crowds shouts.
Through my cell window I saw a massive crowd enter Pilot’s courtyard. The men and women screamed protests. Pilot walked out to the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The shouts of protest became louder at the sight of him. This should be good. The crowd is extremely unsettled, I thought with a smug smile. I attempted to get comfortable to watch the show.
The crowd became silent as Pilot raised his hand. I heard the voice of Pilot, but I couldn’t hear a word he said. There were too many people stuffed into the courtyard. The murmuring of the crowd stifled Pilot’s shouts. Pilot turned and talked to a bloody man held by two guards. His body was stripped of his clothing except for a small, dirty undergarment. Pilot turned back to the rowdy crowd and asked them something I couldn’t hear. I waited for their response, hoping it would clear up the mystery for me. They all shouted the last thing I expected, “BARABBAS!” I stumbled backwards, confusion flowing into my head. What do they want with me? I thought. Then through my window I heard the worst statement ever, “CRUCIFY HIM!” the crowd shouted with emotion. Terror mixed with agony raised within my body. Today?! No, it CAN’T be today! I must be dreaming. The guards haven't even said a word to me about this! I thought, denial masking my thoughts. “CRUCIFY HIM!” the crowd shouted even louder. I collapsed, not knowing what to do. Think, think! I tried to conjure a plan to escape, but the sound of guard’s feet sounding through the empty hallways distracted my already jumbled thoughts. Questions raced through my head: Why me? Why now? Why were they so mad? What have I done? Why me? The door clicked as the guard unlocked my cell. I did not want to leave. Sweat dripped down my dirt smeared face. The guard threw a discussed look and mumbled something. I could not hear what he said. I fought to stay in my now comforting jail cell. “No! Not today!” I screeched, pulling against the guard’s firm grip. My underfed body protested with pains in my tired legs and arms. “What is wrong with you?” the soldier growled with frustration. “You are being set free.” He yelled at me. I instantly stopped resisting the pull and stared at the irked guard. “What? Is this some kind of joke? I heard the crowd shout my name, and then shout, ‘Crucify him!” I said, short of breath, trying to grasp reality. The guard chuckled and said, “You lowlife, Jewish swine, the crowd chose to crucify the man called Jesus. They chose to set you free instead of this Jesus man.” He shook his head and jerked me out of my cell. I clumsily followed, dazed from the excellent news. “What did this Jesus do that made the crowd want me over him?” I asked, wondering how much lower a man could get. “He claims he is the son of the Jew’s God.” The guard said with a bored voice, hinting that he didn’t want to talk to me. We walked out of the prison and into the open. I blinked at the bright light of Pilot’s courtyard. The crowd had left and was heading to a distant hill. The guard shoved me out of the courtyard and stalked away. I looked around. I am free! I am free! I thought. I looked back at the angry crowd. I wondered about this Jesus man the guard was talking about. I looked at the empty road in the other direction, and then back at the road the crowd was on. Curiosity filled me so I walked toward the angry mob. As I reached the mob, I stood on my tiptoes trying to see what was going on. I walked closer and pushed past a few people. In the center of soldiers was a man carrying a wooden cross. This must be that Jesus the guard was talking about. I thought as I pushed closer. The man carrying the cross looked up and I our eyes met. His eyes, instead of hatred and emptiness, gave off a sparkle of hope. Warmth filled my body with a feeling unexplainable. I stopped, frozen, and the crowd passed me. Confusion filled my head, yet again. I ran back into the crowd, but I couldn’t see Jesus. He had fallen, the cross on top of him. That could have been me today, I thought. I turn away from Jesus, being beaten by soldiers. I ran the opposite direction. The crushing thought hit me again, but this time with more force and meaning:
I have done terrible deeds. I have done horrifying sins against others. I have no love. I have made innocent people go through torture. I have gone through suffering. Then he took it away, and they set me free. I may have been abandoned, but I was not trapped anymore. I am free.
My name is Barabbas.
It all started that morning. I thought it was the last day of my life. Well, truthfully, I knew my last day was coming, but I never thought it would be that day. I hadn’t thought about my execution; all I knew was my damp, musty, grimy, smelly jail cell. You see, I killed a man, and then resisted the authority. I feel no guilt, he deserved his fatal death: he stole my wife. My love left me. I was thrown into jail. Even though I was released, killing became my hobby, my life, my addiction. Seeing the fear in a person’s eyes right before their last breath gave me joy, satisfaction… the feeling of power. I have been thrown into jail many times now(I have lost count). I have gotten used to the hard, cold ground and the snarling, rude guards that gave me my stale bread and dirty water. This dreadful place, the jail cell, became my home.
It was a sunny morning, two days before the Jew’s precious Sabbath. I had just scratched another line on my jail cell wall. 106 days have passed by without a word of my release or my death sentence. I sighed and looked up through the barred window, yellow light found its way into the dark cell. I was surprised when the guards gave me a cell with a window. I assumed I would be thrown into a small cell with no windows or light. I lucked out this time. My window over looked Pilot’s courtyard; daily I could listen to the crowd's shouts of protest and the proud voice of Pilot. My cell was a bit too far away to hear what Pilot said, so I assumed the case through the crowds shouts.
Through my cell window I saw a massive crowd enter Pilot’s courtyard. The men and women screamed protests. Pilot walked out to the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The shouts of protest became louder at the sight of him. This should be good. The crowd is extremely unsettled, I thought with a smug smile. I attempted to get comfortable to watch the show.
The crowd became silent as Pilot raised his hand. I heard the voice of Pilot, but I couldn’t hear a word he said. There were too many people stuffed into the courtyard. The murmuring of the crowd stifled Pilot’s shouts. Pilot turned and talked to a bloody man held by two guards. His body was stripped of his clothing except for a small, dirty undergarment. Pilot turned back to the rowdy crowd and asked them something I couldn’t hear. I waited for their response, hoping it would clear up the mystery for me. They all shouted the last thing I expected, “BARABBAS!” I stumbled backwards, confusion flowing into my head. What do they want with me? I thought. Then through my window I heard the worst statement ever, “CRUCIFY HIM!” the crowd shouted with emotion. Terror mixed with agony raised within my body. Today?! No, it CAN’T be today! I must be dreaming. The guards haven't even said a word to me about this! I thought, denial masking my thoughts. “CRUCIFY HIM!” the crowd shouted even louder. I collapsed, not knowing what to do. Think, think! I tried to conjure a plan to escape, but the sound of guard’s feet sounding through the empty hallways distracted my already jumbled thoughts. Questions raced through my head: Why me? Why now? Why were they so mad? What have I done? Why me? The door clicked as the guard unlocked my cell. I did not want to leave. Sweat dripped down my dirt smeared face. The guard threw a discussed look and mumbled something. I could not hear what he said. I fought to stay in my now comforting jail cell. “No! Not today!” I screeched, pulling against the guard’s firm grip. My underfed body protested with pains in my tired legs and arms. “What is wrong with you?” the soldier growled with frustration. “You are being set free.” He yelled at me. I instantly stopped resisting the pull and stared at the irked guard. “What? Is this some kind of joke? I heard the crowd shout my name, and then shout, ‘Crucify him!” I said, short of breath, trying to grasp reality. The guard chuckled and said, “You lowlife, Jewish swine, the crowd chose to crucify the man called Jesus. They chose to set you free instead of this Jesus man.” He shook his head and jerked me out of my cell. I clumsily followed, dazed from the excellent news. “What did this Jesus do that made the crowd want me over him?” I asked, wondering how much lower a man could get. “He claims he is the son of the Jew’s God.” The guard said with a bored voice, hinting that he didn’t want to talk to me. We walked out of the prison and into the open. I blinked at the bright light of Pilot’s courtyard. The crowd had left and was heading to a distant hill. The guard shoved me out of the courtyard and stalked away. I looked around. I am free! I am free! I thought. I looked back at the angry crowd. I wondered about this Jesus man the guard was talking about. I looked at the empty road in the other direction, and then back at the road the crowd was on. Curiosity filled me so I walked toward the angry mob. As I reached the mob, I stood on my tiptoes trying to see what was going on. I walked closer and pushed past a few people. In the center of soldiers was a man carrying a wooden cross. This must be that Jesus the guard was talking about. I thought as I pushed closer. The man carrying the cross looked up and I our eyes met. His eyes, instead of hatred and emptiness, gave off a sparkle of hope. Warmth filled my body with a feeling unexplainable. I stopped, frozen, and the crowd passed me. Confusion filled my head, yet again. I ran back into the crowd, but I couldn’t see Jesus. He had fallen, the cross on top of him. That could have been me today, I thought. I turn away from Jesus, being beaten by soldiers. I ran the opposite direction. The crushing thought hit me again, but this time with more force and meaning:
I am free.
By: Jamie Bauer
I really really like this!
ReplyDeleteBut i kinda wish you would've used your skill to write something that hasn't been written before.