Short Story: The Illusion

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“What am I doing here?”, I whispered desperately.

I realized my weakness while trying to open my eyes. I rolled his gaze up beneath my closed lids and let go the bitten apple I was holding in my hand.

An endless space of alternating sleepiness, awakening, drifting, silence and darkness were wrapping me few moments ago. “What is happening to me?”, I wondered silently while shocked by my suddenly tilting universe. I tried to react with any movement just to give a signal of life, a scream for help but I simply couldn’t.

Something new and awkward was happening to me taking all my attention. Nevertheless, I tried hard to comfort myself by forcing in a simple sense that it will be all right. But, I couldn’t resist the undeniable feeling of my universe squeezing too much. A feeling that went for so long that I couldn’t remember what came before. A dreadful feeling that was continuously fed with an alarming wish to escape consuming my resistance and leaving me completely exhausted. I didn’t want to surrender, in a final attempt I kicked my legs out straight but nothing happened. I tried to stretch out, to escape to make the suffering stop and merge again with the universe I used to know.“Please stop!”, I closed my eyes firmly yet no sound came out. My mouth was firmly glued by thick layers of mud.… I had no choice but finally relenting.

Suddenly, an oily breeze blew in a faint rumbling sound. Slowly, the roars that started dim and faint grew louder and more gigantic. I slumped down staring to the skies helplessly trying to cling to the mud with a weak grasp. The wind swiftly howled ferociously. I felt the sound coming from my eyes.Responsively, I tilted my head to the side away from the wind. My face pinched in anguish feeling the p...

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...s lips in a horrible tone while waving with his bleeding knife in front of his companion’s eyes.

The sitting man slowly moved his hand towards the blade and held it. The tall man smiled and calmly said “And if you end up by killing him, you won’t be anything but being a tool in the hand of fate”

He just threw his advise and vanished as if he was an illusion leaving behind one single evidence of his subsistence - the dried goat’s blood over my face. The short man stayed there longer canvassing the blade in his hand by his eyes covered with alternating glimpse of hesitation and clouds of tenaciousness. I stayed on obnubilating in my shelter until he commenced moving away. Subconsciously, I found me propelling myself up and over with the world around me turning upside down. I felt so weak but my enthusiasm kept me persuading this deep wish of following him.

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