It wasn’t a good idea to run down that wooden slope, when he slipped, it felt it took hours for him to hit the wooden ground, it seemed strange and unfamiliar that movement of time. He had time to think of it, to think of how his accident will change the night’s path.
He imagined it, falling and smashing the wooden ground, breaking his back, neck or shoulder depending how his body reacts and uncontrollably jerks to choose the least important and safest part to break. He would gash a scream that shakes the building and drives people’s head upward, jerking from side to side, trying to find the flying monster that will soon end their life,
the life they loved.
But he would release a loud moan, loud enough for the people to know its source.
“Over there! Down the alleyway leading to the toilet!” One man would say with relief.
“Thank goodness it is not my day to die…” He would think, running towards the now constant moaning of the wounded man.
The one man will find him lying down, unmoving, on the wooden slope. His friends start to gather, worried about his health and his forlorn hope.
He wouldn’t move, “he looks like he fainted.” She would say, hoping that the worse is not real “Call the ambulance!” His friend would respond, trying to be the hero that saves his friend from the near death, but not actually calling the ambulance himself, too busy attending the wounded friend.
“Don’t move him!” She would yell at the wounded man’s friend, “He might have a broken bone! Just wait for the ambulance to arrive!” Everyone by now is crowded around him, in the small alleyway leading to the toilet, wanting to see the fate of the wounded man, waiting for the climax to hit the top and reveal the secrets they never knew, but always pursued.
He imagined the ambulance coming and clearing the small alleyway leading to the toilet, pushing mindless corpses away and throwing them behind, trying to save the wounded man, and only the wounded man.
His imagination breaks when he hits the wooden ground, it was finally the time for his long fall to end, to end his life, and for his imagination to become true.
He probably only spent a second lying down on the wooden slope, there was no time for him to release the wounded shout, there was no time for him to think, his body jerked upward intuitively, his imagination was false, his reality was nothing he perceived, his reality was the total opposite, his reality was challenged.
He didn’t understand his perfect stability and reaction at first, he was amazed, he was mesmerized, by his body and the ability to survive that fall with no harm. His mind was floating around the empty space, trying to grasp anything that can make sense of his situation. He stood there frozen, shocked, and unaware of his surroundings.
Suddenly, his eyes started to get bright, his smile started to appear and grow every second, grow so big it covered half of his face, he didn’t just grasp anything in the space that was once empty, but he also saw everything.
He saw everything around him and everything in life that his eyes glowed so bright, his eyes glowed with an intense chroma of yellow light, like a shinning sun in a clear sky, like the sun itself looking downwards on all living on Earth.
The night was no more, the light he had made it clear, even clearer than a burning room, he could see every detail of the physical world around him, all the small cracks on the wooden slope, withered by the changing seasons
over the years.
“Such weak thing you are.” He said solemnly to the wooden slope, “Unable to hurt me, unable to hold yourself.” He thought about the years he withered and pained, to reach a dream he couldn’t gain, but he always stood back up, he covered the cracks and gained resistance for his surface shall not be scared again.
He probably only spent a second lying down on the wooden slope, there was no time for him to release the wounded shout, there was no time for him to think, his body jerked upward intuitively, his imagination was false, his reality was nothing he perceived, his reality was the total opposite, his reality was challenged.
He didn’t understand his perfect stability and reaction at first, he was amazed, he was mesmerized, by his body and the ability to survive that fall with no harm. His mind was floating around the empty space, trying to grasp anything that can make sense of his situation. He stood there frozen, shocked, and unaware of his surroundings.
Suddenly, his eyes started to get bright, his smile started to appear and grow every second, grow so big it covered half of his face, he didn’t just grasp anything in the space that was once empty, but he also saw everything.
He saw everything around him and everything in life that his eyes glowed so bright, his eyes glowed with an intense chroma of yellow light, like a shinning sun in a clear sky, like the sun itself looking downwards on all living on Earth.
The night was no more, the light he had made it clear, even clearer than a burning room, he could see every detail of the physical world around him, all the small cracks on the wooden slope, withered by the changing seasons
over the years.
“Such weak thing you are.” He said solemnly to the wooden slope, “Unable to hurt me, unable to hold yourself.” He thought about the years he withered and pained, to reach a dream he couldn’t gain, but he always stood back up, he covered the cracks and gained resistance for his surface shall not be scared again.
And on that he exploded into laughter, a laughter that shock the world around him, a laugh that made everything tremble from the power he possessed, the power he already had and just discovered. A laugh that trampled every object around him from the fear that they carried; that fear of being unable to reach the power he had, the fear of staying a weakling
all their life.
He laughed because he realised how pathetic his imagination was, how he expected people to run for his help when he already knew he was dead, he laughed at how he was dependent on people to save him from an inevitable death, how he thought people would truly help him, when all they were trying to do is comfort themselves; comfort of the idea that there was no flying monster that is going to take away their precious life, with their precious clothing, their precious hat, their precious breath; their beautiful face, their beautiful hair, their beautiful soul.
He laughed because he realised they all had that power he possessed, they all knew how great they were, but they never grasped it, they always questioned themselves, questioned their true self.
He laughed so hard and so loud, so whole-heartedly, his eyes turned to amber, still filled with brightness, but it is a different brightness to the sun’s, a brightness of wisdom and the soul, the brightness of mindfulness that is foretold, the brightness of knowing the truth.
He looked up the alleyway, there was no one looking down, no one that dared to get up from their seat of comfort and their drink of relief, no one that dared to see the power the laughing man possessed, no one that dared to see such power exist.
The evening’s darkness came back, a silence he never heard before arose, a silence of fear and anticipation, a silence of all existence that heard the powerful laugh. His smirk never left his mouth; he walked up the wooden slope, with a grip that crushed the wood’s spirit, a grip that vanished the color it bred, a grip that no physical power can move or slip.
He reached the opening, where no one has moved at all, no one has changed their seat; no one has drunk their drink. It’s like he just entered the alleyway leading to the toilet for a split second and returned.
But this time all eyes were turned to his, all eyes uncontrolled by their owners, all eyes filled with fear, anticipation, shock, and they were fixed; fixed on the power that shock their belief, fixed on the energy that changed chatter to silence, fixed on the very eyes that glowed like a pure amber in a dark cave. He scanned around, looking at those fixed eyes, that wanted to close and cry, that wanted to turn and look away at a cruel world, but they couldn’t, they had no control any more, the power the laughing man possessed was mesmerising, the power the laughing man discovered was like a magnet that couldn’t help but be pulled by its opposite.
He scanned around with his smirk, that grew with every eye he met; every time he pulls them closer, he thought his smirk couldn’t get any bigger, but it did, it grew bigger and bigger until eventually it broke into a wild laugh, a laugh that seemed possessed by a demon from their perspective, their cowardly weak perspective. But he knew the laugh; he knew the power he possessed, the power that didn’t possess him, the power he controlled. He laughed upon their wrong perspective, their cowardly frightened perspective.
all their life.
He laughed because he realised how pathetic his imagination was, how he expected people to run for his help when he already knew he was dead, he laughed at how he was dependent on people to save him from an inevitable death, how he thought people would truly help him, when all they were trying to do is comfort themselves; comfort of the idea that there was no flying monster that is going to take away their precious life, with their precious clothing, their precious hat, their precious breath; their beautiful face, their beautiful hair, their beautiful soul.
He laughed because he realised they all had that power he possessed, they all knew how great they were, but they never grasped it, they always questioned themselves, questioned their true self.
He laughed so hard and so loud, so whole-heartedly, his eyes turned to amber, still filled with brightness, but it is a different brightness to the sun’s, a brightness of wisdom and the soul, the brightness of mindfulness that is foretold, the brightness of knowing the truth.
He looked up the alleyway, there was no one looking down, no one that dared to get up from their seat of comfort and their drink of relief, no one that dared to see the power the laughing man possessed, no one that dared to see such power exist.
The evening’s darkness came back, a silence he never heard before arose, a silence of fear and anticipation, a silence of all existence that heard the powerful laugh. His smirk never left his mouth; he walked up the wooden slope, with a grip that crushed the wood’s spirit, a grip that vanished the color it bred, a grip that no physical power can move or slip.
He reached the opening, where no one has moved at all, no one has changed their seat; no one has drunk their drink. It’s like he just entered the alleyway leading to the toilet for a split second and returned.
But this time all eyes were turned to his, all eyes uncontrolled by their owners, all eyes filled with fear, anticipation, shock, and they were fixed; fixed on the power that shock their belief, fixed on the energy that changed chatter to silence, fixed on the very eyes that glowed like a pure amber in a dark cave. He scanned around, looking at those fixed eyes, that wanted to close and cry, that wanted to turn and look away at a cruel world, but they couldn’t, they had no control any more, the power the laughing man possessed was mesmerising, the power the laughing man discovered was like a magnet that couldn’t help but be pulled by its opposite.
He scanned around with his smirk, that grew with every eye he met; every time he pulls them closer, he thought his smirk couldn’t get any bigger, but it did, it grew bigger and bigger until eventually it broke into a wild laugh, a laugh that seemed possessed by a demon from their perspective, their cowardly weak perspective. But he knew the laugh; he knew the power he possessed, the power that didn’t possess him, the power he controlled. He laughed upon their wrong perspective, their cowardly frightened perspective.
He laughed because he saw the truth in their eyes, he laughed because he dug through their superficial layers, he laughed because he saw who they truly are.
He knew the question that dug deep into their head, he knew the question they wanted to ask so badly, but couldn’t have the courage to ask, he knew they just wanted to shout “What is so funny?!” He knew they just wanted to cry out “How can you laugh in this horrid world?!”
He knew the question that dug deep into their head, he knew the question they wanted to ask so badly, but couldn’t have the courage to ask, he knew they just wanted to shout “What is so funny?!” He knew they just wanted to cry out “How can you laugh in this horrid world?!”
And he knew they would never ask, he saw their ego telling them that this is just a stage he is at, that at some point his smile and laughter will vanish, that he will realise the reality of their world, the reality that will sink him back into himself, the horrible reality that will bring sadness and unrest.
But he knew better than that, he possessed the power that possesses them; he overcame the superficiality that enslaved their hearts, he overcame the slime that covered their mind, and at last he told the question that stirred so deep in their soul, afraid and
unable to emerge.
“Why do I laugh?” His voice echoed like they all asked it with their eyes, and he paused for a second, for them to realise that he knew them more than
they knew themselves.
It seemed like hours have passed, trying to grasp something in their empty space, until he finally answered, they held their place.
“Because,
You all are beautiful people, but you reject it.
You all are unique and special, but you resent it.
You all are loving and peaceful, but you cover it.
You all seek conflict and survival, but run away from it.
You all have the power, but you’re possessed by it.”
His words swirled in the air, but he didn’t see any reaction, he didn’t feel that he answered their questions; he didn’t feel that he fulfilled their anticipation.
His laugh’s echo faded, his smile started to mutate, his eyes lost its brightness, and his body lost its grip and floated in the air.
It wasn’t because he was sad, it wasn’t because he lost his mind; because he understood it at last, he understood his imagination, he understood their selfishness and fear, he understood they are humans, they are earthlings, they are living beings.
He looked back into the alleyway leading to the toilet and said to the wooden slope “You are not weak, you are filled with wisdom, the wisdom of death.”
The wisdom that cannot be understood by the living,
the living that he is not.
He walked back down the alleyway, back to his spot.
But he knew better than that, he possessed the power that possesses them; he overcame the superficiality that enslaved their hearts, he overcame the slime that covered their mind, and at last he told the question that stirred so deep in their soul, afraid and
unable to emerge.
“Why do I laugh?” His voice echoed like they all asked it with their eyes, and he paused for a second, for them to realise that he knew them more than
they knew themselves.
It seemed like hours have passed, trying to grasp something in their empty space, until he finally answered, they held their place.
“Because,
You all are beautiful people, but you reject it.
You all are unique and special, but you resent it.
You all are loving and peaceful, but you cover it.
You all seek conflict and survival, but run away from it.
You all have the power, but you’re possessed by it.”
His words swirled in the air, but he didn’t see any reaction, he didn’t feel that he answered their questions; he didn’t feel that he fulfilled their anticipation.
His laugh’s echo faded, his smile started to mutate, his eyes lost its brightness, and his body lost its grip and floated in the air.
It wasn’t because he was sad, it wasn’t because he lost his mind; because he understood it at last, he understood his imagination, he understood their selfishness and fear, he understood they are humans, they are earthlings, they are living beings.
He looked back into the alleyway leading to the toilet and said to the wooden slope “You are not weak, you are filled with wisdom, the wisdom of death.”
The wisdom that cannot be understood by the living,
the living that he is not.
He walked back down the alleyway, back to his spot.
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