He glanced at his clock. It was rapidly approaching midnight. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the hour of his suffering is close at hand. His face quickly turned pale; he rubbed his hands together to ease the bitter cold feeling. He wondered whether it was a good time to pray. He hadn’t prayed for a long time now; he wasn’t even sure to whom he was praying to. But he needed divine intervention to assist him, to hold his hand during the torment that was about to dawn. He decided to bow his head and just say a quick prayer to any greater being out there… any greater being that was willing to listen.

“Please take this cup of suffering away from me,” he whispered silently, “Yet I want Your will to be done, not mine.” He knew though that he had to take a sip and eventually drink from that cup of suffering.

People came and left his humble abode. They greeted him with smiles, patted his back, and shared laughters. But he saw straight through it. These people will soon betray him; these people will soon strip him off his clothing and shove a cactus up his backside. As they left, he saw evil smirks painted across their faces, the faces of demons.

12am. Finally the hour has arrived. It was the beginning of, what was supposed to be, a special day. A contingent was assigned to take him to a supper to celebrate this day; they were the messengers of death, carrying him to his last supper. He knew they were coming, and he stood up and bravely followed them. His neighbours tried to console him; it was a fake consolation. He knew they were wolves; wolves who couldn’t wait to turn their backs on him. He observed the tools that they carrying. Seemingly harmless, these were the tools that they would use against him. They waved these objects -ropes, poles and cactuses- to secretly taunt him and strike fear in his heart. But the fear was already there. He was terrified.

As he entered the dining hall at his last supper, he was greeted with cheers. He forced a smile, and took a look around the room, glancing at each person who was about to betray him… at each person who was about to deny him. They handed him bread to commemorate this special day, and they asked him to make a single wish.

A lone voice resounded through the room. “Don’t make a wish you know won’t come true,” it said sarcastically. He knew that was true, and decided against repeating his short prayer a few moments ago.

He then continued to break the bread to hand it to each one present… to each person who was about to torture and torment him, and to each person who was about to walk away and deny him, too scared to stop the rest. They took the bread and ate it, while glancing over at him at every opportunity they had. They wanted to make sure he didn’t walk away… at least, not in the shape he was currently in.

Shortly after everyone had finished their bread, one of the men present stepped forward and hugged him. It was a hug, but it felt like a stab in the back. It was the kiss of betrayal, and it was a sign for them to bring him down. The beasts were unleashed. He tried to resist, but soon realized it was futile. They had grabbed his body, locked him down and brought him to the ground. He bit the dust, and was finding it harder and harder to move. The stripped him off his clothing, humiliated him and tied his legs to a wooden plank. He soon found himself lying on the plank, with all his limbs securely locked down. He cursed them, but he realized that they had won.

They clipped his nipples with pegs and wrote on his body. A candle was lit, and burning wax was poured onto chest and thighs. He let out a strong scream as he felt the heat all over his body. To add insult to injury, they placed a cactus in a pot on his chest, ordered him to balance it to avoid the deadly circumstances. All this was done while his nipples were pegged and his body tormented with scalding wax. The pain forced his body into a continuous struggle, and the cactus tipped over. He screamed again as the numerous small needles pricked all over his body. He wanted it to end, he begged for forgiveness, and they finally backed off. Without looking back, they ran off into the shadows, leaving him battered and bruised.

After shaking off the daze surrounding him, he sat up, he looked up at the clock. The first hour of that special day was over. He had 23 more to fear.

This post is dedicated to my neighbour for his 24th birthday.

Happy birthday, Hok! Hope you had a blast.


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