Blue
Magistrate
The Seventeen Moments of He and She
Moment Sixteen – The Moment
“Bacon, I smell bacon... and coffee - breakfast!” It all seemed so real, sitting down at the small table together, her white satin robe still securely closed but open at the bottom, allowing her white panties to be exposed in just the right places... They were both smiling, a sense of relief showed on both their...
“Ahhhhhh.... Ahhhhhh....”
The familiar moan she made during a cramp yanked him from his daydream back to reality. It was nearly dark; he could barely see. He rushed to her, but the moaning stopped almost as quickly as it had started. He turned on the small lantern they agreed on using if she survived into the night and began walking back to his previous spot.
“Stay.”
He stopped in his tracks, frozen by what he thought he heard.
“Please…, stay.”
He turned around, looked at her, and couldn’t believe what he saw: she was looking at him!
“I don’t want.... you... to leave... me... anymore...” She strained her arms and legs, rising to get a breath. Her eyes were bulging as her body rose, then quickly buckled, collapsing from the expenditure of energy required to take two rapid breaths.
After emitting several pained moans, she added, almost comically: “And please... sit... you are making... me... nervous...”
A faint smile came to his mouth. “So, she had noticed my small gesture to her suffering after all...” He wondered what else she noticed.
Moments passed, yet time seemed to stand still. For the first time since her crucifixion they looked each other in the eyes without malice.
She broke the silence: “Why... why... why? Why did you... do... that... horrible... that horrible... thing you did... to me... when... I was so.... vulnerable?”
“I’m so sorry... so very, very sorry...” His voice was cloaked in shame.
“I... know..., I know... but... why...?”
His mind raced for a sufficient answer, something that would justify his action to make him feel less guilty. Instead, he decided on the truth: “I was mad, so fucking mad…, you chose this; THIS…!!! over me...” There it was, out in the open.
Silence.
Her reply was simple but full of emotion: “I’m sorry...” she bowed her head. “Water... please...”
Over the next six hours he gave her water on ten separate occasions: not a word was said on any one of them.
It was now 4:00 am. He knew from his research that she had entered the danger zone of crucifixion: death could come quickly, and without much warning. She knew she had entered this zone based on the unending agony and suffering she had endured for the last twenty-plus hours.
He had already set up a second lantern, keeping it near him as he sat about six feet in front of her. This way, she didn’t have to rotate her head to see him, expending precious, precious energy: energy she was losing with each passing minute.
He made no attempt to hide the despondent look on his face. He was watching his lover suffer and die in a most cruel and frightening manner. Despair and desperation stewed in his gut, roiling the emotional sea of sadness that currently inundated his soul.
Finally, he could no longer endure the sight of her suffering, the guilt that he put her there, the fact that he forced himself upon her... he knelt before her with arms outstretched crying out hysterically: “WHY? WHY? WHY…?”
The cross was breaking him just as surely as it was killing her.
“WHY ARE WE LETTING THIS HAPPEN? WHAT ARE WE DOING...? I CAN STILL GET YOU DOWN – YOU’LL SURVIVE… WE CAN BE TOGETHER!!! WHY, WHY, WHYYYYYY…...?????”
She had been asking herself the same question for the last few hours... her faith was being tested in a way she could not have anticipated. The pain in her ruined wrists, her shattered feet... what was it all for? She felt God had abandoned her years ago, she hoped sacrificing her life would grant her His Grace but instead she felt only pain, suffering and humiliation. Was sacrificing her life not enough? What else could she give while she’s already giving her life in such a terrible and horrifying way? How much pain must she endure to satisfy this god? What kind of god exacts such a price for atonement? She had given everything to this god, yet it seemed it wasn’t going to be enough… what if… dear lord in heaven… there was no acceptance of her penance? Her death, her life… wasted on a fairy tale…
She looked at him kneeling before her, his hands covering his face as he openly cried. He was dying just as surely as she, emotionally… She felt his pain, his overwhelming sorrow, how hard this must be for him, yet how steadfast he was comforting her... she rose her head and looked directly at him, heart full of pity for HIS struggles.
“I... forgive... you...” He didn’t hear her whisper of a voice, so she repeated it: “I... forgive... you...” still no response.
Marshaling all her strength she said it as sincerely, as lovingly, as clearly as it could be said: “I. FORGIVE. YOU!!!”
The moment she said it out loud to him, she also heard it (or, perhaps, only felt it) in a voice not only her own but accompanied by another; the other voice enveloping her from all directions. Both voices combined brought her a warmth that felt like a thousand suns cleansing her body, her spirit, her soul. The combined voices resonated deeply within her, as if she was forgiving herself as much as she was forgiving him. She listened intently to both voices as if every word, every syllable, every letter was a moment unto itself.
Immediately, the veil of darkness that had surrounded her life was lifted from her, she felt lighter, even as she was dying on the cross.
As soon as he heard it from her lips his crying stopped, his heart lifted, he felt a little bit more alive. She looked down at him, he looked up at her; they exchanged smiles as both of them became aware of a presence, a fleeting presence they could never, ever even begin to describe. A transcendent presence, gone as quickly as it came but changing them, in this moment.
For however long they had left there would be no more anger, no more guilt, no more regret. They were completely committed to the moment, each moment in succession, moments stacked upon moments stacked upon moments until there were no moments left: that moment was coming soon enough... ... Right now was about a celebration of living, of life that still breathed, thought, and felt.
Moments turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours as time passed, hurtling her inexorably towards a horrific end. Though they were now comfortable with each other not much was said between them, mostly due to her ever-declining condition. He continued offering her water, gently rubbing her thigh or shoulder in a non-sexual, comforting way and telling her she was loved.
He offered her the option of coming down and getting medical attention. She stared at him intently, while trying to process the suggestion. After all, she had learned how to forgive him for violating her as well as forgive herself for her sin committed in the past, shouldn’t that be enough?
But what of God’s forgiveness of her? Was it unconditional? Was it predicated on her continuing her ordeal on the cross to its exacting, and final, justice? She looked at her ruined wrists, her fingers frozen in a ghastly claw… She looked at her pierced feet: the trickle of blood that continuously oozed from around the nail, the horrific pain she felt all the time, and the atrocious pain she endured when rising were all indications of the permanent damage done. To continue living after going through this experience was, perhaps, far more difficult than letting herself die crucified. Unsure of God’s conditional or unconditional forgiveness she, once again, chose death over life.
This time, he understood.
Moment Sixteen – The Moment
“Bacon, I smell bacon... and coffee - breakfast!” It all seemed so real, sitting down at the small table together, her white satin robe still securely closed but open at the bottom, allowing her white panties to be exposed in just the right places... They were both smiling, a sense of relief showed on both their...
“Ahhhhhh.... Ahhhhhh....”
The familiar moan she made during a cramp yanked him from his daydream back to reality. It was nearly dark; he could barely see. He rushed to her, but the moaning stopped almost as quickly as it had started. He turned on the small lantern they agreed on using if she survived into the night and began walking back to his previous spot.
“Stay.”
He stopped in his tracks, frozen by what he thought he heard.
“Please…, stay.”
He turned around, looked at her, and couldn’t believe what he saw: she was looking at him!
“I don’t want.... you... to leave... me... anymore...” She strained her arms and legs, rising to get a breath. Her eyes were bulging as her body rose, then quickly buckled, collapsing from the expenditure of energy required to take two rapid breaths.
After emitting several pained moans, she added, almost comically: “And please... sit... you are making... me... nervous...”
A faint smile came to his mouth. “So, she had noticed my small gesture to her suffering after all...” He wondered what else she noticed.
Moments passed, yet time seemed to stand still. For the first time since her crucifixion they looked each other in the eyes without malice.
She broke the silence: “Why... why... why? Why did you... do... that... horrible... that horrible... thing you did... to me... when... I was so.... vulnerable?”
“I’m so sorry... so very, very sorry...” His voice was cloaked in shame.
“I... know..., I know... but... why...?”
His mind raced for a sufficient answer, something that would justify his action to make him feel less guilty. Instead, he decided on the truth: “I was mad, so fucking mad…, you chose this; THIS…!!! over me...” There it was, out in the open.
Silence.
Her reply was simple but full of emotion: “I’m sorry...” she bowed her head. “Water... please...”
Over the next six hours he gave her water on ten separate occasions: not a word was said on any one of them.
It was now 4:00 am. He knew from his research that she had entered the danger zone of crucifixion: death could come quickly, and without much warning. She knew she had entered this zone based on the unending agony and suffering she had endured for the last twenty-plus hours.
He had already set up a second lantern, keeping it near him as he sat about six feet in front of her. This way, she didn’t have to rotate her head to see him, expending precious, precious energy: energy she was losing with each passing minute.
He made no attempt to hide the despondent look on his face. He was watching his lover suffer and die in a most cruel and frightening manner. Despair and desperation stewed in his gut, roiling the emotional sea of sadness that currently inundated his soul.
Finally, he could no longer endure the sight of her suffering, the guilt that he put her there, the fact that he forced himself upon her... he knelt before her with arms outstretched crying out hysterically: “WHY? WHY? WHY…?”
The cross was breaking him just as surely as it was killing her.
“WHY ARE WE LETTING THIS HAPPEN? WHAT ARE WE DOING...? I CAN STILL GET YOU DOWN – YOU’LL SURVIVE… WE CAN BE TOGETHER!!! WHY, WHY, WHYYYYYY…...?????”
She had been asking herself the same question for the last few hours... her faith was being tested in a way she could not have anticipated. The pain in her ruined wrists, her shattered feet... what was it all for? She felt God had abandoned her years ago, she hoped sacrificing her life would grant her His Grace but instead she felt only pain, suffering and humiliation. Was sacrificing her life not enough? What else could she give while she’s already giving her life in such a terrible and horrifying way? How much pain must she endure to satisfy this god? What kind of god exacts such a price for atonement? She had given everything to this god, yet it seemed it wasn’t going to be enough… what if… dear lord in heaven… there was no acceptance of her penance? Her death, her life… wasted on a fairy tale…
She looked at him kneeling before her, his hands covering his face as he openly cried. He was dying just as surely as she, emotionally… She felt his pain, his overwhelming sorrow, how hard this must be for him, yet how steadfast he was comforting her... she rose her head and looked directly at him, heart full of pity for HIS struggles.
“I... forgive... you...” He didn’t hear her whisper of a voice, so she repeated it: “I... forgive... you...” still no response.
Marshaling all her strength she said it as sincerely, as lovingly, as clearly as it could be said: “I. FORGIVE. YOU!!!”
The moment she said it out loud to him, she also heard it (or, perhaps, only felt it) in a voice not only her own but accompanied by another; the other voice enveloping her from all directions. Both voices combined brought her a warmth that felt like a thousand suns cleansing her body, her spirit, her soul. The combined voices resonated deeply within her, as if she was forgiving herself as much as she was forgiving him. She listened intently to both voices as if every word, every syllable, every letter was a moment unto itself.
Immediately, the veil of darkness that had surrounded her life was lifted from her, she felt lighter, even as she was dying on the cross.
As soon as he heard it from her lips his crying stopped, his heart lifted, he felt a little bit more alive. She looked down at him, he looked up at her; they exchanged smiles as both of them became aware of a presence, a fleeting presence they could never, ever even begin to describe. A transcendent presence, gone as quickly as it came but changing them, in this moment.
For however long they had left there would be no more anger, no more guilt, no more regret. They were completely committed to the moment, each moment in succession, moments stacked upon moments stacked upon moments until there were no moments left: that moment was coming soon enough... ... Right now was about a celebration of living, of life that still breathed, thought, and felt.
Moments turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours as time passed, hurtling her inexorably towards a horrific end. Though they were now comfortable with each other not much was said between them, mostly due to her ever-declining condition. He continued offering her water, gently rubbing her thigh or shoulder in a non-sexual, comforting way and telling her she was loved.
He offered her the option of coming down and getting medical attention. She stared at him intently, while trying to process the suggestion. After all, she had learned how to forgive him for violating her as well as forgive herself for her sin committed in the past, shouldn’t that be enough?
But what of God’s forgiveness of her? Was it unconditional? Was it predicated on her continuing her ordeal on the cross to its exacting, and final, justice? She looked at her ruined wrists, her fingers frozen in a ghastly claw… She looked at her pierced feet: the trickle of blood that continuously oozed from around the nail, the horrific pain she felt all the time, and the atrocious pain she endured when rising were all indications of the permanent damage done. To continue living after going through this experience was, perhaps, far more difficult than letting herself die crucified. Unsure of God’s conditional or unconditional forgiveness she, once again, chose death over life.
This time, he understood.
) ... Terrific stuff ...
