The Arrow

His face is trained upon the horizon, his form tense under the pressure of the bowstring behind him. He feels the wind in his fletching, the nimble yet purposeful fingers delicately directing his direction. He is brave. He knows not of the aim of his Archer, nor where his journey will end, yet he trusts the Archer, rightfully so. The Archer is one of great strength and accuracy, not an arrow released from his frame has flown without his knowing of its path and terminus. Moreover, the Archer is good. So the Arrow rests his spirit within the archer’s palm, seemingly pausing time during the fleeting moments before his release. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and then feels it. That feeling which he was so delicately designed for, the feeling of which all the arrows before him have confronted, it was life.

As he rises, his body continues to mount the air in front of him, going about an invisible grade that the Archer had set for him. His speed decreases, and he begins his descent into the valley below, a horror which rips the breath from his lungless frame. It was dark, shrouded with the numbing scent of something he would soon know ever so intimately as sin. As he falls, he remembers that his dearest Archer never makes a mistake, and that his path will land in this valley with a purpose. He closes in upon the ground below, beginning to see countless lives affected by the darkness in the valley. It was killing them. His heart breaks. It is a heart that this valley had never seen before, one that was pure, gentle, and lowly. It was a heart directly intertwined with the Archer himself. Still, he refocuses his point on the valley, setting his face like flint. He knows his purpose in this valley, his Archer sent him to redeem it. Seconds within impact, he finds that his path will be one of destruction. Swiftly, he pierces the head of a serpent, bringing the once sickly writhing body to stillness. The serpent’s name is death. As the Arrow fulfills his purpose however, he snaps.

For three days, stillness and despair plagued the land. Those living in it had heard of this Arrow, the Arrow that would bring justice and life to the valley, and before their eyes that same Arrow was now shattered. On the third day however, the sun rose once again, yet now shining light on a new valley, a new Arrow. The Arrow once broken for the valley, was now whole again. Not only was he whole, but he was crowned with the glory of the archer. His being endowed the surrounding valley with blinding grace. He still held the scars of where he had been broken, but they were now marks of victory. He not only reflected the light around, but he himself was the light. In one flashing heartbeat, he finds himself flying upwards, racing towards the beautiful clouds above the valley where he knew he would find his beloved archer. As he pierces the clouds, he is filled with sweet victory, hearing the familiar voice of his Archer crying, “well done, my good and faithful Servant.”

---