Not Guilty
I knelt on the floor before the judge's bench, my clothes filthy and ragged. The fear and nervousness in the pit of my stomach felt as though I were trying to digest a lump of iron. I looked to the table where the prosecution sat. There was nothing but hatred in his face. Hatred and condemnation. He was well dressed and handsome, and did you meet him on the street you would think him a respectable gentleman. Here he showed his true colours. Liar, thief, war-monger, adulterer, rebel, warrior against justice, mercy, and love. The living embodiment of hatred and cruelty. There was no good left in him; not even a shred.
I looked up as the judge rose to the bench. There he stood, terrible, golden, and warm. He glanced down to the prosecutor who flashed him an arrogant grin. Aslan simply stared. Then he turned his gaze to me. Terror filled my heart as I remembered all the things I had done wrong, all the times I had failed him. Every angry word, every time I had snapped at Einan, every single sin laid bare before my mind's eye. Yet, as I looked at him, I saw no anger, but only love.
He breathed upon me, the warmth flowing over me deliciously. All the memories faded away. The prosecutor began to fidget in his chair. I looked at him and all the sins returned tenfold to haunt me. I flung myself onto the floor with a shriek, filled with the purest form of terror.
"Martin."
Slowly, oh so slowly, I raised my head to look upon the Golden One. As he spoke, his voice was deep and rich. Full of love, and love alone.
"I know you, My son. I love you. I am Love, and Love paid the price for mercy. My verdict is Not Guilty."
I rose to my feet, my rags replaced with robes of white, my skin now clean and fair. From the prosecution's table came an awful shriek as he disappeared before my eyes.
"This is all death holds for you My son. This and no more. Be at peace."
As he breathed on me, I awoke, the sun streaming in through my bedroom window.