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And He set the Captive Free

Writing Rambles #13

Another prompt! This one came to mind particularly fast. I wanted it to be dramatic and the prompt just made me think of someone waiting their whole life just to be free. If only we could all realize sooner, it’s only a choice away.

As always, if you want to join the fun, write your own story off of the promt before you read mine and post it in the fireside room! I’d love to read it!

Prompt: He had waited years to hear…

And He set the Captive Free written august 19, 2019

He had waited years to hear those three words and he didn’t even know it, spoken softy and gently, and yet with just as much power and might as he could have ever hoped for. Simple in their own right, but together, those words meant more to him than anything the greatest kings of the world could have ever given him.

The young man, covered in dirt from where he had just fallen, wept into his hands. He could never escape the chains that bound him, chains that, in some ways, he had wrought with his own hands. Chains that had driven him to this desert of isolation, where he cried and pleaded for someone, anyone to listen.

But then came striding out of the wasteland a man in humble brown. He smiled with a hope in his kind eyes, a hope that believed the young man in the dirt could one day run on mountain tops.

The man did not ask why he cried, he knew that all too well already, and had tears wetting his own face over the very same thing. He only grabbed him under the arms and helped him to his feet, holding him steady until he could stand on his own. And when he drew back, both his palms were striated with ancient scars.

The young man covered in dirt would not raise his head, so the man with the strange, scarred hands did it for him. With a gentle fist under his sagging chin he made him meet his steady gaze.

The tears streamed like a steady storm from the young man’s eyes now, for when he looked into that face, he looked into the face of love. It was a face he knew so well, and yet had never seen once in his life. A face of a king, but what king was lowly enough to pick a wretch like himself up out of the dirt?

Then, only after he was certain the young man truly saw him and stopped looking past him into the wasteland, the man with the scared palms finally spoke those three precious, profound, priceless, powerful, words.

“You are free.”

Thanks for reading!

Your Captain,



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