Blood and Chains

Darkness. Everywhere. No one remembers what light is or looks like, all they know is sound. But nothing extraordinary or pleasant, like the sound of music and laughter. Only groans, weeping, and screaming at times. But the most prominent is the sound of the chains. They rattle and clang continuously with no end in sight. Their cold sting biting into the hands of everyone they bind together, secured in such a way that no one is capable of touching their neighbor. Just as they only know darkness and dull sounds, they only know cold. Naked and starving, they feel little of their own body heat, and the chains prevent them from huddling to stay warm. Even the rough stone they stand on is ice cold. Sometimes unseen creatures pass by and stab each of them in the chest, spewing their blood all over them. This provides momentary warmth, but it quickly subsides, and they are left just as cold as before. Again, no one dies, and no one escapes. The chains always remain as tight as ever, digging into their skin so deep they scrape bone.

Many have convinced themselves that this is normal, and that there is nothing more than this. But others still cling to the distant memories of the time before, when there was light everywhere, warm sunshine, and plentiful food. They remember when the world was good, and there were no chains on their wrists. When they could freely embrace each other, laugh with each other, and dance with each other. But the embraces have now been replaced by chains, laughter by screams, and dancing by constant, aimless wandering. The hope from those memories is a foreigner here.

But the darkness begins to soften, turning grey. Red and blue light streams forth from a single, narrow point. They all jerk their heads in the direction of the light and are blinded by the its strength. A shape emerges from it, appearing to rise from a grave, and raises its arms out to the chained prisoners. Blood gushes from its palms and lands on their chains, soaking the little space between the chains and their wrists. The chains become lose and the figure in the light beckons them to it. Some quickly begin to struggle with the chains, slipping their hands through until they are free. Others have no idea what to do until they look around and do as the free prisoners do. But the majority of the prisoners refuse to open their eyes, afraid of the light around them. The only life they know is darkness, and the light frightens them. A few are helped to not be afraid, but still many more do not budge.

The freed prisoners walk into the light and enter a place even greater than what they remember. And forever they remember how the blood freed them from the chains. They remember how, through the blood, they ate their fill. How the blood warmed them without end and showed them again laughter, dancing, and warm embrace. They remembered forever how they followed the one who bled for them, and they were comforted and made content.

The End