Chapter 10

Kurutio awoke to the crackling of flames, his head swirling with the fragments of lost memories. Feeling drained and disheartened, he skeptically surveyed the room about him, with a jaded mind, empty heart, and vacant eyes.

He could no longer take anything seriously; after all that had happened to him, all that he had been through– it just wasn’t in him anymore. Despite having just recently been reborn, he was already good as dead– little more than a zombie.

Why was he still alive? What god-forsaken purpose was he cursed to carry out? Kurutio had the distinct feeling that he was being mind-fucked– no! He was sure of it.

You must finish the story if you are to be free!

That dark voice again. A shadow wrapping around him, feasting on his every fear– yet somehow, a part of him.

He really wanted to give up, to just lay there as if dead, and fall into a dreamless sleep forever. But deep inside, the hope that someday he might find happiness– it ate away at him, and he knew what he needed to do.

As Kurutio began to study the room, around him, it was clear that this was no ordinary room.

Light shined through stained-glass windows, shimmering with the magnificence of a thousand diamonds. The room seemed to go on forever, with brilliant red carpets stretching out in all directions before being swallowed by a profound darkness.

But the most mysterious part of this room– the facet that stood out the most– was the fireplace.

The fireplace was located in the center of the room, and flames towered from all sides, licking away at the fuel in a spiralic motion. Looking skyward now, it occurred to Kurutio that there was no smoke, and there was no fuel. The fire just was.

As he intently gazed upon the fire, he saw voices whispering among each other, as if returning the curiosity that he shared of them. The fire, or more specifically– the flames, were alive.

He beckoned to them in his heart to come out, and the flames began to dance, as if trying to send a message to him: a mystical charades. And at the same time, they wavered in and out, as if their very existence was being repelled by some ethereal force. Kurutio could not understand their movements, but was touched by their warmth. He was content with just looking at the flames, and being immersed in their hypnotic movements.

But suddenly, he was brought out of this trance by a harsh chilling cold. Pangs of ice engulfed him, and drops of cold sweat ran down his forehead. He felt as though all of his blood had been drained from his body, and that he was now drowning in it.

He instinctively turned again to the flame, and watched in horror as they flickered in an wind that he could not see, smell, or touch. As the fire smoldered desperately, he felt himself slowly dying.

The fire was his life.

Laying there helpless and resigned, Kurutio stared absentmindedly at the ceiling, waiting for his life to end. There was no Heaven, no Hell for him– only an etheric wasteland…

a world with nothing in it, and no one in it.

Despair

It was a bittersweet compromise, but a fate that it seemed he was destined to fulfill.

Time was now irrelevant, as Kurutio lay down in a dazed sort of suspended animation. He wondered if perhaps this is what death is like. He asked himself the questions that anyone might ask when knocking at death’s door.

But soon, it was clear that such questions were meaningless and futile– that they were asked too late…

It was too late for anything now.

But who was that woman?

He laughed half-heartedly at the irony that was his life. What had he lived for? Was there ever any real purpose to begin with?

Now melting in a sea of sadomasochistic self-pity, an exaggerated manic frustration intensified, he abruptly stood up, bracing himself to meet his maker. And as he opened his mouth to curse the heavens, the flames that were his life shot up to the sky, exploding in a raging display of fiery hail, raining down upon him.

He called out to them in a wild desperation, now presently seeing his last hopes being literally dashed to bits. These pieces of his soul now looked upon him intently, as if waiting for a response. Kurutio cried out to them once more, but to no avail.

His feelings has not reached them

As he stood there mouth still gaping open, awaiting his doom, there was a marked resemblance to that of one facing impending disaster. He was one who had seen death’s face, and embraced it– embraced the inevitability.

In this delirium of forced-fatalism, he began to sing.

It seemed that when the end was near, singing appeared to be a profoundly beautiful idea. At times like these, the sweet and melodic sound of music seemed to be the only thing that made sense– the only thing that could make sense of this wretched fate thrust upon him. Music brought him peace. So as the hail drew near, he raised his voice all the more, channeling all of his feelings into a bittersweet symphony.

There is a saying that when a person meets there end, how they decide to spend their last few moments will tell you what kind of person they are, and what kind of person they were.

Perhaps the flames knew this to be true; in recognition of his radiant inner-light, they joined in with the symphony, forming one of the most fantastic displays of fireworks ever seen, or should I say, not seen.

The hail had accelerated, but Kurutio’s voice grew all the louder, with an immeasurable intensity. His soul might be destroyed in fire and brimstone, but his heart would go on.

Then a miracle occurred…

The hail, having now touched his lips, proceeded to run down his throat, and into his body. It was as if they were forced into his body magnetically.

As the torrent of flames entered his being, Kurutio felt a sudden rush of excitement, a beautiful and mysterious ecstasy.

A true Second Wind.

Warm and tingling sensations filled him, and it felt as though his soul was made of milk and honey. His Soul– his Life Force were once again a part of him.

A Second Chance

It’s at times like this that we truly experience and appreciate the beauty and wonder that is Life.

An unfortunate side-effect of being human is that we often get so caught up in our own thoughts and activities that we tend to take life for granted. In our busy lifestyles, we tend to lose sight of the things that truly matter, and sacrifice a true appreciation of life to fulfill a primitive and childish need for security.

But Kurutio, having gone to Hell and back again, gained the love for life that we have so sorely missed…if only for a moment.

Having now consummated a new-found passion for living, he collapsed onto the floor by the fireplace.

But rather than displacing the brilliant red carpet so prevalent in this room, he instead fell into a soft, warm bosom. In surprise, he looked up to see who this lap belonged to– in a room where he thought himself to be alone.

What his eyes met: A silver-haired woman, looking intently back at him.