Doors

Darkness.  

Inky, dense, scorching blackness.  Silence at first.  Then, a frantic clamoring.  Doors slam closed, creak open, slam again.

Chaos.  Unending chaos.  And fear so substantial you could hold it in your hands if they were untied.

Where is your breath?  Have you been able to catch it even once since you were captured?
Dragged?
Unwittingly deceived and drawn from that distant dream known as Safety?

Can’t swallow.  Can’t scream.  Can’t get the bitter taste to leave.

That darkness again.  Is that the remnant of your soul?  Slipping steadily, steadily away.  Yanked, yanked away by cold, grasping daggers of danger, defeat, despair.

Give up.  Just give in.  Why fight any longer?

Worthless.

Hopeless.

You.

Without warning, your door opens.  He stands there, with his scalpel-y switchblades of talons glinting in the sickening red fire of his eyes.

Reaching.  Reaching.
          Creeping.  Menacing.

Cowering, bound and unable to save yourself.  Destined to perish here.

In another realm, Light quells darkness.  Valor arises and vanquishes evil.  A father fights for his daughter.

He is on his way.
Battle after battle.
He cannot be deterred.
Wars fought, won.

Coming.
          He is coming.

Precious—yes, he is searching for that one thing he would die for today.
Die for any day.

And when he reaches her, she will know this:
There is no darkness too intense,
          no pain too strong,
                    no cunning too crafty
to hold them asunder any longer.

Daughter, he is coming for you!

Breathe.  Be alert!  Get ready.

Prepare to adjust your vision to the holy, white brightness of the Hope that rides on a swift horse.

Hoofbeats draw nearer
and nearer
and nearer
and…

Can you sense it?  Hairs on the back of your neck carry the boding.

He is here.  Almost.  Here.

Chaos!  Shouting!  Chaos!  Raging!

Slam, slam, slam. Creak, slam.
Crack!  Creak!  Crash!  Slam!

Doors that once stood on hinges lie splintered on the floor.

One more door.  One left.

A captor that once terrorized now lies defeated on the floor.

Last door.

Locked.
          Barred.
                    Chained.

No matter.  This door collapses beneath the determined, boot-clad foot of Father.

This is the door.  This room holds the girl.  His girl.
His treasure.

Breathe.  Breathe now.
It is finished, done.
I have come to take you back.
To take you home.

Confusion.  Why, why, why would he come for you?
What here is worth returning to safety?
What here is worth redeeming?

What here is worth loving?

He reads your eyes, he who created you.  He knows you.  He always understood this would be your reaction.

Gently, and with bloodied hands, he loosens your restraints, brushes your hair from your eyes and gazes into your soul.

Hope seeps into your emptiness.  Light trickles into the blackness that has choked your being.

His love equals freedom, and he kneels beside you with the vast expanse of this love in his eyes.

Kneels and whispers.

Yes, it is for you, my used, broken, frightened girl.  All for you.  I could not stop until I reached you, freed you, carried you home.

Rest, just rest.  It is safe.  I can protect you if you will allow me.  You will be restored.

The door of our home is always, always open to you.  Always open.

Will you allow me to restore you safely, securely there?