– Why is this happening to me? – An old man cried out, a wounded, hurt cry that only those who suffered understand. The alley was dark and damp, and had no way out; their footsteps closer with every new heartbeat, their fists heavier and harder with every new thought.

It was difficult for the old man to accept this faith; he was a fighter for so long. Life pushed him down many times before, but he always rose back to his feet. Not this time, he knew and yet, even now he couldn’t give up. He run to the end of the alley, faced the wall and touched it, thinking it might not be real, hoping it might dissolve once touched, as if all this was just a test, one last test of his determination and faith. But, unlike so many times before, this really was the end of the road for him.

The wall was black, or rather, completely devoid of colour; completely smooth and featureless on touch. It was a perfect symbol of how the old man felt at this moment.
– Why is this happening? – he cried out one more time, still unwilling to let go; still wanting to believe that someone will hear him, help him out one more time, if only to prologue his fight. As long as he could fight, there was hope, as long as there was hope there is a meaning, a purpose, a reason why.

But here, at the foot of this dark, menacing wall, there was no hope.

First blow caught him completely off guard. He gasped desperately for air and fell on the ground, covering his head instinctively. But nothing happened. He lye there for a long, long time, waiting, fearing another blow, feeling more pain coming. But nothing happened.
Minutes, hours later, he got up. He was completely surrounded by dark, starless night as tick as honey. He barely got up, aching and hopeless. He stretched his arm and touched the wall. Cold, dead, careless. He heard no sound, but he knew he wasn’t alone. He made a step away from the wall and hit something solid. He touched and realized it was the wall.

His through clenched in despair. He was trapped, surrounded, and he felt the wall closing in on him until he couldn’t move at all. He tried to climb up, he desperately tried to bury his nails into blackness’s smooth surface. He felt his blood dripping on his face, flowing down his fingers, damping his clothes, but he couldn’t stop. Even now, he couldn’t stop. The walls moved in a bit closer, pressing hard on his chest. He screamed out, tried to break free, but there was nowhere to go. He will be crushed like this, in complete darkness, alone and faithless.

– Why? – He cried out again – Why like this?
He didn’t know if there was a higher meaning to this pain. He didn’t know if there was justice and order. He only knew he was scared beyond anything he thought possible. He only knew it hurt. He only felt the pain, an unbearable pressure crushing him down. He only felt his bones breaking under the pressure.

Finally, he gave up and stopped fighting the pain and just gave in to the feeling of unbearable emptiness. He felt betrayed by his own faith, abandoned by his own beliefs. He was nothing but an old man now, stripped of everything he valued and everything that carried him forward through his life.

Suddenly, he fell to the ground. He reached, unable to see, but felt nothing but the air around him. The wall was gone.
An old man crawled in the dark.

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