Surrender

        Joseph. He was a simple man and led a very simple life. Now, this man was not unique in any way. He wore a gray shirt and an old pair of faded jeans. The only thing that stood out about him was a pair of rusted shackles bound around his wrists. These shackles were not bound together by a chain in the middle; they were simply dead weights.
Joseph was also a troubled man. Everyday, he would wake up, walk down to a little pond, and dance in the morning sun. Dance to avoid life. Dance to release his cares. Dance to escape.
Everyday, he performed the same dance. He was never out of step, never missed a beat, and performed it flawlessly in the windless air by the stagnant pond. This dance is all he knew, and all he ever could remember doing.
On one particular day, Joseph's chains felt unusually heavy. They were tiring to lift through the air as he danced, and so, he sat down. He sat by the pond and stared upon it, his eyelids feeling heavy, and then drifted into a deep sleep.
"Joseph," a stern yet compassionate voice called out, " Is there not more to live for? Were you not called to be something more?"
Joseph turned to face the direction in which he heard the voice, and to his surprise, saw a man whom he had never seen before. He was tall and full of muscle. He wore a violet robe, and atop his head of golden hair rested a golden crown with many precious stones.
"Surrender," the voice called out again.
Surrender? What was that supposed to mean?
"Stop running away," he said in a fatherly tone. "Stop going in circles. Stop going through the motions."
     "Surrender."
     His eyes began to flutter open, and he turned around to try to find the mysterious man with whom he had spoken to moments before.
Gone.
The man had disappeared, and there was not a trace of him left. Joseph turned back towards the pond and looked across. There, on the other side, sat a perfect wooden chest.
Joseph began to run faster than he ever had before. For what reason, he had not the slightest clue. He just knew he needed to run, and fast. His chains began to weigh down upon him more and more with every step. Every step he took became slower and heavier. He began to sweat tremendously as he made his way around the pond and grew tired and weak. But then, a still, small voice uttered one single word.
Surrender.
He continued to run, and when he finally reached the wooden chest, he stumbled to his knees. He looked upon it in awe as he ran his fingers across its wooden frame. He looked down at the face of the square chest and saw a single word carved into its flawless pine wood.
Surrender.
He stared at it, for it was all he could do. Why had that single word appeared constantly? And why was he afraid of it? What was the word's significance? And why had this chest appeared so suddenly? Should he leave it? Or should he open it?
He lifted his hand to run his fingers across it once more, and when his hand made contact with the wood, that single word entered his mind again.
Surrender.
   Yes, he had made up his mind. He was going to open this box. He had not a clue what lie inside, but he was going to find out. He placed his hands on the lid and slowly began lifting it up. What laid inside surprised him.
A banner.
He slowly and carefully removed the banner from its wooden confines and held it before his eyes. Sewn into the front of the colorful flag's silky fabric was a single word.
Freedom.
A  lone tear fell from his eye as he read that one word, and he stood up. He lifted the banner high above his head so that the word could be seen, and he stood there for what felt like a lifetime. And then, his lips began to softly utter one word.
"Freedom."
At this his chains fell from his wrist, and for the first time, he felt the wind blow, its cool current drying the tears that were now falling freely from his eyes.
He looked out at the pond. Its waters were no longer murky, and in fact, it wasn't even a pond any more. It was now a river, full of life and passion.
He then turned his eyes to the shore of the opposite side of the river. What he beheld was of a beauty that he had never laid his eyes upon before. A white horse, with the wings of an angel across its back, galloped along the shore, silver hair blowing in the wind, before finally taking to the sky.