Long ago...

"Sometimes all it takes is a little perspective." 

~Andy Andrews, the Noticer

 Prologue... 

It was hard to see in the dark room. The man squinted, and brought his oil lamp closer to the parchment. Taking up his quill once more, he continued to write where he had left off.

At the opposite end of the room, a heavy door turned upon it's hinges, and a young man stuck his head inside. “my preparations for departure are almost complete, sir.”

“But a few moments, and I will be finished.”  replied the man at the desk, glancing over his shoulder and giving a quick smile.

With a returning nod and a 'as you wish sir', the  youth retreated, and the door closed once more.

The man smiled oddly. “Sir? A title I have not heard in years.”

He laid down his quill, and rubbed his aching neck... and then paused. Even now, he was still startled when  his ink-stained fingers touched the deep scars that ran down his spine into the rough cloth of his garment.

So long ago, but still he remembered vividly every whip lash on his bloody back, every raucous jeer as the spectators roared mockery at his pain, every evil leer as the guard pulled back his arm and delivered another taste of his religious order's 'justice'.

Starting out of his daydream and glancing down, the man noticed that the parchments yellowed surface was  spattered with ink.

He had been a rebel, going against the established order of religion in his country. In the minds of the religious leaders, he knew they felt they were just executing righteous judgment against an insurrectionist.

He understood.

He had also felt that way once.

Not so long ago, he had been fighting for the cause on their side.

Hatred towards those who rebelled against worshiping the One True God flowed through his hot veins. Such an blatant defiance was an act of sacrilege. At one time he had even approached the leaders of his sect, requesting permission to strike out against these rebels...especially a new cult that had just recently surfaced. Though it preached peace and actually claimed to worship the One True God, they introduced the heretical teaching that He had a Son...the man was convinced it would undermine the very foundation of thousands of years of established religious tradition... and perhaps the very basis of his faith.

His leaders were impressed with his passion, and drew up the necessary documents to allow him every liberty. Once he had power the man went on a rampage of ruthless purging, breaking into homes and ordering his appointed guards to drag the members of this cult away for questioning.

At that time, he had ignored the screams from the children and the wives of many men... but later they had echoed down the halls of his mind with haunting clarity.

Once, he had even given his consent for open murder. 

The man bowed his head, silently mourning the path of darkness he had chosen... How could anyone hope to atone for the crimes he had committed?

But then his head rose, and a gleam of hope flashed into his eyes...


To be continued...