We were told barbarians might be coming to plunder us some day. We were told they always struck in the fall. But we did not believe them, nor did we prepare ourselves accordingly.
We foolishly assumed they would not find us. We believed we were too small to bother with. But we were wrong.
They struck our small village when our men were off fighting in the King’s wars. We were not expecting their raid. Thus, we were virtually defenseless.
They swooped in, killing and plundering. They took our grain, our livestock, our mead; all of our provisions. Anyone who resisted them was mercilessly cut down.
Those they did not kill, they took away to sell as slaves. As their captive, I resigned myself to becoming some man’s mistress or sex slave. But they had a far worse fate in store for me.
They stripped me down before nailing me to a wooden cross. Then they put me upright within the shadow of the assembly hall. The only thing that protected me from total humiliation was a sheer wrap they put around my waist, not that it covered all that much.
It was an agony unlike anything I had ever experienced before. There was intense pain in my hands and feet. Worse, I had to endure that pain just to lift myself up enough to breathe. It was a cruel fate to be exposed virtually naked like that, struggling just to try to breathe.
I did not understand why they were leaving me in agony. One of them must have thought I needed explanation. As I suffered, it was told to me how they always crucified a young maiden if we were not ready with our tribute for them. It was to serve as a warning to all the other villages.
Lycia and Magdala broke away and came running over to me. But they could not figure out how to get me down. That’s when I saw the archers.
I tried to warn them, but it was too late. Arrows flew, cutting down my dear friends. They lay before me, dying upon the dirt outside the assembly hall.
Strangely, I was not afraid during the raid. I was not even afraid at the sounds of the carnage all around me. But I became greatly alarmed after they left, as an eerie silence settled in all around me.
Lycia and Magdala writhed and groaned as they lay upon the ground. But in my agony, there was nothing I could do for them. They had sacrificed themselves for me in vain. My punishment was to watch them until they stopped moving and lay silent.
I hung there all through the afternoon, praying for deliverance. I hoped someone would come along and find a way to get me down. But as day was replaced with night, I experienced a despairing chill from the night air.
I could not sleep. I had to keep lifting myself up enough to get another breath. This only added to the pain in my hands and feet.
Morning dawned, and a renewed hope swelled within me. But staring at Lycia and Magdala’s pierced, naked bodies brought me back down to despair. There was no sound, not even that of a bird flying nearby.
The sun enveloped me at noon, and I felt the full force of its rays. I was hungry, but I thirsted even more. I prayed for the return of those barbarians, if only they would somehow give me something to drink.
The hours dragged by without any respite. I began hallucinating. Lycia and Magdala would get up and leave me to suffer in silence. But when I blinked my eyes, they were back in their positions of death.
The pain in my hands and feet never went away, especially when I tried to lift myself up enough to get a decent breath. I could feel it starting to extend up my legs and along my arms. It was getting harder to lift myself up to get breath after breath.
Evening came, and with it came the cool night air. I was chilled, and I often shivered. The pain became so intense that I started crying out.
Was anyone out there? Could anyone hear my cries? I allowed my agony to make me vocal in my suffering on the chance it might attract salvation.
I do not know how many times I tried to sleep. Each time, I was awakened as I tried to rise up on my feet for another breath. That’s when I realized that hunger, thirst, and spreading pain in my arms and legs were taking their toll.
The sky began to lighten. But this time, it did not bring any hope with it. I hurt all over.
I finally reached the point where I tried to let myself die. But my body would not allow it. Instinctively, I pushed up on my feet and pulled with my arms, wanting that next breath. The pain was incredible.
I had long since cried myself out at the sight of Lycia and Magdala. They had suffered, but not nearly as long as I was suffering. I began envying them.
The sun rose higher, mercilessly beating down upon me. Thirst, hunger and agony were finally taking their toll on me. It was getting harder to lift myself up for a breath.
I could not keep my head lifted upward. I bowed forward, praying for deliverance. But I believed in no deity, and this was ultimately to be my punishment for my disbelief.
I cursed Lycia and Magdala, wishing I had died with them. Then I begged their forgiveness. In my delirium, I saw them rise up, only to be arrowed and collapse all over again.
The sun rose higher, baking me. I suffered from hunger, thirst, and an agony I wished would come to an end. But my body would not give me mercy. It always wanted one more breath… always one more breath.
And then it got harder. Each breath got more difficult. There was too much pain; I was too weakened.
I rested, the pain not quite as intense as when I tried to rise up to breathe. Each rest felt wonderful. How could moments of temporary peace be immediately accompanied by such periods of agony?
I tried to lift myself up yet again. But this time, the pain and my weakness would not let me. It was all the way down my arms into my chest; all the way up my legs into my stomach.
I needed to breathe; my body wanted to breathe. I wanted to taste the late morning air. But I could not rise up!
I tried to cry out, but I had no breath. Fear enveloped me. I fought to lift myself up despite the incredible pain in my arms and legs. But this time, it was not happening.
I tried to lift my head. But it was too heavy. Instinctively, I tried to fight, to wriggle, to move. But nothing would respond to my commands.
My chest began to heave in protest. It was a new agony, a frightening agony that told me the end was near. I should have embraced it, but my body wanted to live. But it no longer had the strength.
I went into painful spasms, my hands flexing as my toes curled. My stomach rippled as my chest heaved. But there was no breath forthcoming.
I experienced it all over again in my last few seconds: the pain of the nails, the arrowing of Lycia and Magdala, each breath I had to fight for during the long hours of agony. My heart slowed as my chest heaved and heaved. Then it finally stopped, and my suffering was at an end.
6-24-24 Inspired by Mike Hunt’s render and his story idea.