What better to judge the lives of the guilty, than something who only knows the malice of man. A man's guilt is worth a fortune. Though a man’s sorrow is worth nothing but a fellow tear.
A man packs his confidence into his chest and exits his home, hoping for a cure to his sorrows. Searching for his flock suffering from the same aspirations.
As the man sets off on his journey, his heart is heavy with the burdens he carries. He yearns for salvation, for something that will release him from the shackles of his past, the mistakes and regrets that haunt his every step.
With each passing day he searches for solace in unfamiliar places. But no matter where he goes, he finds others just like him, fellow seekers in a world filled with turmoil and uncertainty. The flock he encounters, suffering from the same agonies, is a testament to the universality of human struggles, although none could relate to what he's committed.
Their faces are etched with lines of worry, their eyes filled with desperation. Each person has their own story, their own scars, and their own longing for something beyond their current reality. They, too, have left their homes, their comfort zones, believing that salvation lies just around the corner.
As they gather together, a community forms from these collective hopes and dreams. They share their fears, their doubts, and their vulnerabilities, finding solace in the understanding that they are not alone. They lean on one another, they are united by their shared pursuit of salvation.
Though one fortunate day the determined man who had finally found a semblance of hope in his peers from the group therapy, didn't wake up. Trapped in a chair, tied down, his bones ached. Stuck in a room of mirrors, only able to see himself. He begs the question “where am i?”. Snarkily a voice enters the room of mirrors, “How do you fare?” The voice exceeds an aura of curiosity. The man in a confused panic exclaims his fear, “Who the hell are you! Where the fuck am i!” The man decided to rudely yell at the voice who seemingly kept him hostage.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The voice gives an exasperated sigh as the man tires him out with just a sentence. The voice responds in kind informing the man of his situation, “I deplore people who garner their attention using a higher tone. Please see to it that you lower your voice. Who I am however… is a much more complicated question, for now you could think of me as your judge. Your life is in my hands, make sure my respect is handed upfront. You could refer to me as Mr. Fortunata, the honorifics included.”
His thoughts swirl and tangle, the weight of the new information pressing down upon him. It feels as though his brain is suffocating, struggling to process and make sense of the influx of information. As he tries to unravel the complexities of what he has just learned, he finds himself lost in a sea of thoughts. Each thought leads to another, creating a never-ending loop of confusion and frustration.
His mind feels sluggish, unable to keep up with the demands of the present. But for now, all he can do is wait, hoping that his brain will eventually catch up and make sense of the jumbled mess of thoughts. However Mr. Fortunata does not allow him said privilege, he begins to branch off from the previous train of thought “From now on till a certain quota has been met, you will be undergoing challenges created by your own mind. There will be certain aspects that are unexpected and whatnot, please try not to die too early. Subjects like you all are rarely found, usually a millenia passes by before I get to have this much fun. Make sure you have some fun as well, Solas.”
The man doesn't respond and just sits in his own thoughts making sure Mr. Fortunata can see the clear glare from his foul brown eyes. This doesn't bother Mr. Fortunata as his figure slowly approaches from the cracks within one of the many mirrors, the figure could be seen adorning a black suit, however nothing else could be observed. Mr. Fortunata’s face was covered in a shadow like darkness. The man in the black suit raises his index finger to his lips, as he blows onto his finger a breeze fills the room as a black gaseous substance is visible and suffocates the man until he succumbs to the unconscious state he was fighting.