She Was Only Ten Years Old

a poem i wrote several years ago... by the end i was bawling, unable to face the faith of the little girl. as an author you must put yourself in the shoes of your main character, going through everything they go through in your writing. you should be exhausted in the end..and i was. though this particular poem is fiction i have read of similar accounts in Foxe Book of Martyrs, which i highly recommend as a must for everyone. as you read, please try putting yourself in this yound girl's place and praise the Lord for such testimony which grounded our precious faith in the highest price there is: one's own blood. ..only because of the cross.

She Was Only Ten Years Old

The footsteps come nearer, echoing off the cold bare stones.

The faces grow still, a small flicker of fear jumps to her eyes.

A warm hand steadily grips her cold one.

“He has not given us a spirit of fear.”

The soft words seem to calm her, the shivering stops.

A man appears at the door, his thin lips stretched into a mocking smirk.

Blood glistens at the end of his spear, not his own.

He smiles at them.

“Hear the crowds? They’re waiting for you.”

The shivering begins again; the ache in her chest sharpens until her breath catches.

Suddenly, his eyes meet hers. “My dear, you are yet so young. Does your God really demand your death? Nero would be happy to have you serving in his palace, your pretty face will surely please him. Come now, my child, don’t be foolish. Bow just once to our great emperor and I will give you life.”

Fear burns steadily in her blue eyes.

Her hand trembles slightly in the steady grip.

“For whoever is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, Of him will the Son of man also be ashamed
When he comes in the glory of the Father with the holy angels.”

The shivering stops and she squeezes the warm hand as her eyes steadily meet the guard’s.

He shrugs and wipes the blood again with a thin smirk.

“We’ll see how you’ll run when the lions take the first bite.”

His eyes glitter with something ugly as he laughs, a coarse and ugly sound.

“Get up, you stupid lunatics, the people await.”

As if to affirm his words, the crowds roar impatiently.

They stand together, the shivering begins again except now the steady hand is gone.

One by one, in total silence, they file through the door.

She tries to rush through but the cold iron of the guard’s spear pierces her skin.

The only answer to her quiet gasp is a chuckle.

Again the iron pierces her skin, except this time fresh blood glistens on the tip.

Her blue eyes fill with tears as she tries to escape the next prod.

“Be faithful unto death and I will give you the crown of life”

Again the quiet words steady her and she raises her chin toward the light.

Blood seeps through the once gray cloak her mother knit for her many months ago.

Finally they reach the light.

“Good-bye my little one.”

The whispered words are accompanied by the final hard prod, the cold iron is thrust into her side.

She stumbles but before her knees buckle, the guard pushes her through with a sneer.

“Your audience awaits you, my dear.”

The sudden light blinds her, she raises her sticky hand to her eyes and stumbles through the iron gates.

“But take heart, I have overcome the world.”

The steady hand helps her to her feet, and she continues to stumble across the sand.

The cheers of the crowd roar in her ears, she doesn’t understand.

Why must they take so much pleasure in her pain?

A small stone flung from somewhere above cuts her cheek, instantly her eyes ignite with anger.

What for?

The injustice of it all boils inside of her.

Why must they scream so loud?

Why were they so eager to see her blood?

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

The hot fury subsides as she grips her wounded back.

Suddenly, another roar joins the crowd.

She jerks as her eyes follow the young tigress running through the gates.

Her eyes glitter and she seemed to smile at her as another lion joins her.

Fear floods her chest, her heart begins to hammer loudly in her chest.

Her blood roars in her ears, drowning out all other sounds.

The tigress approached her, her eyes on the blood gushing through her
cloak.

She stumbles backward, her hand gripped steadily.

Suddenly the tigress’s golden eyes leave her and fasten onto the one who still held her hand.

The steady grip loosened.

“NO!”

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, Neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.”

The final quiet words were stolen by the cold wind.

Her frozen blue eyes widen in horror as she watches the tigress devour her daddy.

Time seems to freeze as the golden eyes latch onto her.

Cold panic pours through her, she stumbles backwards.

An involuntary scream rips from her throat as she trips over the small stone flung at her only moments ago.

“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubles, neither let them be afraid.”

Familiar words, yet from whom?

Her daddy is dead, pieces of his body strewn on the once golden sand.

His lips can no longer whisper the comforting words.

“Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.”

Her heart slows, a warm light filling her eyes.

Her heavenly Father was there, His quiet whisper was resounding in her
small soul.

His promises melting the bitterness into a pool of love for those who still cried out for her blood.

The roar of the crowd increased as another tear splashed onto the crimson sand.

A calm smile spread across her face as she saw the claws rip through her leg.

Pain and heat exploded before her eyes, the scarlet blood spreading fast over the sand.

Lights flashed her eyes, pain racking through her small frame at the first bite.

The screams of the crowd deafened her, she smiled.

One tear glistened in her shining eyes.

“Forgive them, Father,” her lips whisper as everything slowly faded away.

“Forgive them, my Lord. They don’t know I’m only ten years old.”