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Fate and Prosperity

By @Samuelius

1

(This chapter is a work in progress)

The emerging sunlight embraces the darkness of the earth every morning. It does so, not because of some inner self, it does so because of the laws of nature. These universal laws are unwritten, unreadable and unfindable. Despite this, every living soul on our planet knows them, and applies them to their everyday being. It is within the nature of conscious creatures to seek and apply these laws on themselves. By definition, humans too possess this wonderful trait.

As the sun emerged and lit up the mornings sky on the second of October 2016, a man rose from his bedsheets in a small town, near Saint Paul, Minnesota. He woke up because his biological clock rang, and his brain shot an seemingly invisible amount of adrenaline through his body, activating his very being. While the black and white bedsheets were being traded in for a far more conventional piece of clothing, the sun kept creeping up, forever trying to reach its climax, before falling down beneath the bellows of the earth once more, only to repeat this shallow and perpetual motion the very next day. No longer was the man bare-skinned, only covered off from the ever watching world by his bedding, he was now dressed in a turquoise suite with a white shirt underneath. The day had once more commenced. The man went on to have breakfast, a carved-in-stone-ritual performed by billions of **** sapiens around the globe for century’s. As the nutrition’s, which were once found in the porridge laced with honey, were being taken into the dynamic system which we have named “man”, the grand clock of the belltower rang proudly, announcing the noble time of nine A.M. This marked the time for our trusted companion to find his stallion, and ride into the vast space we call the outside world.

Once he arrived at the market square, and had parked his Audi at the underground parking, the man decided to get some nourishment. His eye fell on the terrace of the small one-man business by the name of “Café Perfecto”, he drank coffee there every Saturday for the last eight months. He sat down at the far left wing of the terrace, at a table which was bathed in sunlight, but included surrounding chairs which took refuge in the comfortable shadow. The waiter arrived and inquired the man’s being there. “One cappuccino, black. Please don’t add sugar too it this time.” The waiter marked his request sand, driven by the power of capitalism, this white-collar servant went on to instruct the barista, located at the rear of the building, right next to the emergency exit. Several thoughtful minutes later the waiter returned with one cappuccino. The man drank it, payed for the provided services and went on with his day.      

 

The clock sounded once more, this time announcing to the world it’s superficial message of 8 P.M. Dinner was over, the news was done, work was completed. Only one thing rested. He sat down at his working table, took his black parker pen and jotted down a small draft concerning the day as he had experienced it so far. Half an hour had elapsed, so had three pages in his diary. He closed the book in which he had been writing so avidly for the last four months or so, and opened the drawer situated next to his right leg. Inside, he found his diary’s, a 5 volume saga sporadically containing each and every important moment of his life. He now added the final diary, adding on to the 5 books to form a 6 part epic. He closed the drawer. The man glanced around his quarters and decided that it was good. what happened next had haunted his mind for years, and would continue to haunt him for years to come. The man took the strong rope which he had find by the side of the road and tied one end into a strong and tenacious knot. The knot, and by extension the rope, was then attached to the neck of the man, who showed no remorse. He continued to tie the other side of the rope to the beam connecting both sides of his mansion. 9:27 p.m. Each person is destined to die once, and after that comes judgement. The man used his leg muscles for one last time, contracting them in order to fell the chair on which he stood. The chair, representing the bridge between the mortal, and the immortal. This bridge collapsed at the hand of the man’s leg muscles, taking their owners life in one fell swoop.    

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