A short story of man who might just face his punishment for the things he thought right. |
Bright, burning hell of unknown name; cooking his skin for the depths of the many sand pits that craved his skin. He knew that if he gave them just one chance they would take everything from him. Even, if everything meant a life of pain and guilt. He kept his head down as the sun was blinding with its pure white light. The sand shone under his bare feet, almost like diamonds. If he had been able to, he would have laughed. Diamonds, they were worthless stones that could save no one from this hell. Others would have thought this was a beautiful sight. To him, it was a torture. He knew there was something here, something rarely seen, yet he couldn’t see it. The sun and endless days of walking had taken away from him something, if there had been anything left in this man that was now just a shell. Once he had been a virtuous carpenter, now just a man that could only place one leg after another without a real path to follow. Just don’t fall into the pits. Don’t think about the past. It was too late. He had reached that door. It opened the memories and wounds that tormented him in his moments of weakness such as then. He had his hands on the handle and stood there with eyes wide open. Not able to look away. He was such a monster. The earth shook almost making him fall into the pits of sand. He scrambled with all his strength. He didn’t know he had that much left. He cursed drily at the lifeless desert. What are you doing wasting your few last words on a pile of sand? Still, the fall didn’t distract him from what emerged before him. A gate stood before him. It had come out of the sand like a child came out of its mother, you never guessed it had been there before, at least not after she had two or three more. It stood tilted back a little. He didn’t bother to look to see if there was something behind it. The door itself was something to admire. It was pure, stainless steel. The type only the rich type had and there were almost none left of those. But the carvings, oh the carvings! He had been a craftsman, and knew well they were top notch. A sun, a prairie, lambs and their shepherds leading them through a life full of expectations. Beyond it, mountains that threaten to puncture the sky; they were far away, something the sheep or the shepherd would never see. The other half of the gate had a lovely moon that threatened to smother the sea with its white and round figure. Still, it covered the calm waters with its stolen light. Far, he could barely see, a lonely ship sailed to unknown places. Maybe seeking the mountains the sheep saw every day. Hell” he had to convince himself. It had to be hell. He couldn’t deserve something so beautiful after what he had done. Also, he had pictured a door, though not as beautiful as this one, in his mind so many times. There was no mistake. He had fallen into one of the sand pits. Now, he would face all that he had done. He could hear the cry of a child. But he didn’t have another choice! The kid would have dried like a prune under the sun. Neither he nor she would have been able to stay sane if that happened. Their little town was already dry as their hopes of survival. He was the only one who could have done it. He did it while she locked herself in the kitchen acting as if she didn’t know what he was doing. There was nothing to do in the kitchen, not a glass of water, any less a dinner for two and a half. Curse you, curse you…you weak woman! She had taken a knife from the kitchen and ended herself. He didn’t grieve for her and he never would! She betrayed him. She was with their child, and he was left alone to wonder. He had to leave town before anyone found out what happened. His hand wrapped around the handle. It was warm and a little too comfortable for his liking. He should be burning. It shouldn’t feel like the hand of his boy when he wanted to go for a walk around town. He lost his boy… God he lost his boy! “Nothing can be worse than then…” he said to himself with a wretched smiled. He knew hell already, and it didn’t have some demons dancing around. It was you and only you with the thoughts of what you had done, of what you lost. He pulled the doors open… |