Beyond the veil of fear

Image description

Categories: Short Story,

I am afraid.

It wasn’t the cold breeze that brushed against my skin that made me afraid. Neither was it the croaking of the toads that made the hair on my skin stand and sent cold shivers down my spine. It was the fear of nothing, yet everything.

I could see the end of the tunnel just up ahead; it felt like staring into the abyss. The end that everyone called a beginning, a beginning to something else. 

The place I would find something valuable and priceless. Something I won’t have to pay for but in return would give all that I could possibly need.

But what if they were wrong and this journey didn’t do what they claimed it would? What if at the end of the tunnel there was nothing? What if I no sort of gift could make me any better? A million other what ifs ran through my head, simply fueling my steps.

A string of words echoed in my mind as though I had recited it more times than I could count. 

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest……..”

My strides became longer, there was an end and I had finally gotten to it.

I had seen museums, I had seen artworks, I had seen beauty and maybe even splendor. But none of the words I knew were worthy enough to describe who was staring at me.

For he was beyond beauty and splendor. All magnificent things must have been named after him, yet, it did his figure no justice. 

He wasn’t at my side, he stood away. Deep down, I could tell that he wasn’t deserving of being in the tunnel with me, for he was the way out. What they had all spoken about, the gift they said I would find.

But I didn’t find him, he found me. And by stretching out his arms, he was volunteering to give me everything and take nothing. More than a gift, more than a treasure.

What I had carried for so long was no longer mine to bear. He had taken it from me. 

I could feel my fears disappearing, my heart unaching, my grief unburdening. 

So, maybe it isn’t the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, or even the rescued treasure chest from the capsized pirate’s ship. Maybe, it’s just the outstretched hands at the other side of the tunnel. 

Not maybe. Most certainly!

That’s the treasure.


by Osigbosin Deborah Published

Osigbosin Deborah

Bio: I am a 17 year old biblophile who writes interactive and prose-like romance stories. Literature means everything to me and of course, I am one of God's babies who is on a journey to sanctification.


  1. I love this so much❤️.

  2. Beautiful and poetic piece.


Please log in first