I opened my eyes today. Low light flooded in through the high window, for it was early evening before the sun fell. The pain was still there. The pain, ever-present since my brush with eternity, a thorn in my sanity, tormented me with its resilience. My mind, set ablaze by sin, slowly fired electrical impulses to coax my hurting body into movement.
The clouds moved to cover the sun.
Why did these people help me? Me, with all my guilt and damnation. They hardly know me. Almost two weeks after my fall, they’ve kept me in this shelter from the Hell outside for an eternity. They told me we’re one, family, all because we believe in the same god. That’s why they help. I don’t know what I believe anymore, except for one thing.
I believe that I’m going to go outside.
Stepping out of the mosque, the light dimmed across the street ahead. Behind me, the imam’s advice reverberates into the mud. With each shift of the muck, he breathes into my ear. It’s deafening now, as the sludge flows off of the road I’m approaching. I must continue my trek. To rid myself of the pain, the voice, and the shame, I’ll embark on an odyssey.
My trial is upon me.
Forcing my feet ahead of my discomfort, I started towards the stand. The courtroom around me seemed already decided: The defendant buildings lay empty and lawyer-less to my left. The tower’s accusing gaze bored into my right side, never letting up the assault. The jury of the impoverished judged me from their shantytown, gathering on the sidewalks to observe. The spectator cars honked as the squeezed by me.
I’m going east.
The voice in my ear buzzes incessantly, but now I do not question it. Lightning cracked as the first stop on my journey drew nearer. With no watch and an ever-wandering mind suddenly all-too-focused, I’d lost track of time. But time was of no importance. It was still a day, and the selfish spin of the world still occurs every hour of every day.
It’s getting ready to stop, just for me.
A once-beautiful girl stumbled in the street, briefly blocking my advance. Stricken with hunger and confusion, her almost-empty gaze reminded me how far an angel could fall. I stopped to help her up. Without a word she moved off of my path. My eyes rose to fall again on that nearby bus stop, which I sought. A freshly posted sign told me the bus had broken down.
Mistrial. Because of this, the pain is gone now.
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