A Moment of Despair

By the time we arrived at our destination, it was past midnight. The sky had a pale red hue, as the blood moon was partially obscured by heavy clouds. The night was long and tiring. We had been walking for three consecutive days, surviving on dates and dried meat. My legs were sore, covered in blisters filled with pus.

The soles of my feet were shredded, resembling the leftovers of lasagna. My entire consciousness was consumed by thirst, which had dried my throat like a desert. After much trial and error, I can conclude that in this society, thinking of the self is a crime. Individuality does not exist, and one must not like oneself. Thinking of the self is an abomination, a forbidden pleasure that one must never indulge in. It's like the last puff of a cigarette, something a dying cancer patient craves.

If you asked me why we couldn't just use a donkey, a camel, or an elephant to get where we are, I would tell you that intelligence is a trait inherited at birth and reasoning is a privilege that they stubbornly do not want to accommodate. All I cared about was arriving safe and sound, but fate had other plans.

The journey was filled with miseries, misfortunes, and filth. It was as if someone was intentionally making our journey a living hell as if this demonic villain knew exactly how everything would end. Hiding in the shadows, they set treacherous traps covered with gold and rubies, only to lure us deeper into the belly of hell. I still can't understand what kind of squirrel would chase a group of grown men with no fear or remorse!

My soul is still troubled by the experience of those insidious, bullying, and creepy monkeys. Their teeth hung out like a crown of death, openly telling us, "Hey, buddy, your life isn't yours anymore." They walked beside us as if they were guarding their captives, intentionally harassing us as if we owed them everything, and as if they weren't there to collect the interest on our debt, but to see the progress of their investment.

They sniffed every part of us intensely as if they had found a specific type of scent that would be "The Next Big Thing." The malevolent look they gave us was accompanied by squawky screaming that overwhelmed us with feelings of misery, spreading internally like wildfire and colonizing our entire being with fear and anxiety as we bathed in sweat, urine, mucus, and tears. I swear to God that these guys are the true originators of the "Evil Eye." At that moment, I could have written a novel titled, "Those Who Kill with a Stare: 'Malitentious'."

Not knowing what they would do and certainly not wanting to know what lurked in their instinctual minds exhausted our spirits. Who would want to imagine being devoured by a swarm of monkeys? The experience itself left us feeling like living carcasses. And then there were those maliferous bees! In my entire life, I've never seen bees that persistently seek to avenge with a burning rage of grudge, diving several meters deep into the river to specifically handpick their targets and sting them to death. They cover up their mess by lifting the bodies high onto a cliff and mummifying them with their excretion of wax.

I am always in a scenario where the goat doesn't rhyme with my themes, ending up hugging the wind. "It could have been easier for me to call it off, but because of my stubbornness and my persistent nature, look where it got me.

A man of my age, you would think I could be wiser, but my whole life has been a trail of disappointment and betrayal. Always running and hiding behind humor just to exist in this thing called life. What can't a desperate man do? Become a superhero? This doesn't seem like a kidnapping scheme, but it has the smell of malicious intent toward my very own existence. It smells worse than death.

Those who have crossed over always talk about the light at the end of the tunnel and all the wonderful experiences they encounter beyond the tunnel. But what they never tell you are the expenses that come after those experiences.

After what felt like an eternity, we finally arrived at our destination. But it was too late. We had lost everything - all our possessions, our dignity, and our humanity. It was as if the journey had consumed us, leaving us nothing but empty shells of our former selves. All that remained was a sense of humbleness, humility, and modesty. Greed, pride, and arrogance had been stripped away, grazed out like wool from a sheep.

As we stood there in that moment of despair, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for us. Would we ever find redemption, or would we be doomed to suffer forever?

I gazed into the sky, emotionally corroded with doubts and anxiety, my mind overpowered with the sense of the unknown, as I tried to make sense of everything that had happened. My friends glared at the horizon, their faces twisted with anger and frustration as they tried to come to terms with our loss. We all stood there, lost in our own thoughts, grappling with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Would we find the answers we were seeking, or would we be left with more questions and doubts?

As I was thinking this, one of the tour guides shouted, "We are here!" Suspiciously, I put down my backpack. There was nothing there, just some trees, rocks, and bushes. I could also see some hills from afar, but that was it. Suddenly, I saw a group of people joining us, emerging from the bushes. They started talking in their language, but it sounded different. They were looking at me suspiciously, with the same malevolent look as those monkeys.

Suddenly, I was engulfed by fear, and my emotions overwhelmed me, making me feel like prey in the claws of a predator. I am not going to die today. I've worked so hard to get here. I'm not leaving my daughter with a junky like Tracy. It was as if I was alive again! My heart was pumping in my chest, thrusting blood through my veins. I ran as fast as I could, not knowing where to run. Screaming, "Help! They are going to..." I tripped and fell to the ground.

Ha-ha! They all laughed at me. Then the tour guide shouted, "Rudy, why would anyone want to kill you?"

Just when we thought we had reached the end of our rope, a figure appeared from the shadows. At first, we couldn't make out who it was. The moonlight partially illuminated his silhouette, casting a long and shadowy figure against the hills.

As the old man approached us, it was clear that he was a mysterious figure. His ancient appearance, with his long white beard and piercing blue eyes, seemed to suggest a lifetime of wisdom and experience. But there was also something unsettling about him, something that made us feel like he could see right through us.

His voice was low and gravelly, adding to his mysterious and ominous presence. When he spoke, it was as if he knew exactly what we had endured getting to this point, and he seemed to be well aware of the challenges that lay ahead. Despite our fatigue and broken spirits, we were drawn to him, compelled by his words and the sense of purpose he seemed to embody.

We looked at each other, unsure of what to say. We were exhausted and defeated, but there was something about this old man that made us feel like we could go on. So, we nodded in agreement, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

The old man nodded, a hint of a sinister smile crossing his face. It was as if he knew something that we didn't as if he had hidden motives that he was not yet ready to reveal. But we were willing to follow him, ready to take whatever risks were necessary in order to find the answers we were seeking. And with that, we set out into the unknown, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.