Gather round children.
Let me tell you a tale of a boy.
Who started off as a no one.
An empty entity not worthy of note.
But watch as he walks on in life,
through all the trials and tribulations
on a mission to find himself
and redeem his past failings...


Picture a boy, lost in a world of hatred and pain.

He wanders around not knowing how he got there when only a few minutes before, he was in a world of love and joy.

It all came apart in one smooth move and here he is, wandering in a desolate place devoid of any colours nor happiness.

As he wanders, he hears whispers in the dark.
Telling him that it is too late for him.
That this is the end.

But he is not to be hindered by tell-tale ghost whisperings.
He wanders on till he came across a large broken glass mirror, whose broken fragments lies in a million pieces on the floor, glittering.

Without thinking, without knowing why, the boy picked up a piece and placed it back. Somehow, in his heart (or what remains of it) he knows that he have to do this to get out of this place.
He picked another and placed it back.

With every piece that he picks, the glass cuts into his skin but he went on, undettered by the pain.


The whisperings became louder as he went.
Louder and more vulgar, telling him to stop, telling him to give it up and somehow, intensifying the pain of the glass cutting.
But he persevered on, not giving up despite the horrendous pain in his hands as every piece of glass takes away some of his blood.

When he had put back almost half of the mirror, he made a fatal mistake.
A mistake that caused all of the pieces to break apart yet again.

The pieces fell upon him as he fell.
Cutting his body, his limbs.
The boy lied on the ground upon his own blood.

Bruised.

Battered.

Broken .



Lying on the ground amidst the broken fragments, wondering what he did wrong, and what he did to deserve it.

And that time, at that place, he almost gave up.


He almost submit to the whisperings.
It berrated him of his idiocy for trying to fix the mirror when it will just break again.
The boy's defences are down.

He did not saw this coming and it hit him..hard.
His thoughts, his feelings turn cold, as cold as the whisperings themselves.

But the whisperings could not touch one part of him.

His HEART.

For it is in there where his FAITH lies.
The flame that of his faith fought back the cold, keeping his heart as it is.


His faith relighted the HOPE in him and with hope

came LOVE.

The boy stood back up, and with great resolve, defy the whisperings yet again.
The whisperings became louder, more vulgar yet again and the pain sharpens.
But this time, the boy was prepared for it.
He anticipated is coming.

For Pain is like a shark.
Once it senses the blood of its prey, there is nothing stopping it from devouring its prey.


He faced the pain, but this time, not to fight it...

but to embrace it.


Pain and Love, one cannot exist without the other.
And to embrace one, one has to embrace the other.

Pain looms over him, threatening to devour him whole.
But the boy is not to be moved.
He looks Pain in the eyes

and he cast his move.

But it wasn't to fight it. Oh no.
He embraced pain. And took it upon himself.

ACCEPTANCE.

For that is when the boy understood that the key to continue this is acceptance.
It is not to continue fighting pain. But to accept it.
Accept it as a part of him.
A part of the essence life itself.

He embraced the pain, accepting it as a part of himself and continued working, ignoring the furore around him.

The whisperings intensify, trying to put him off his stride and intensify the pain, but the boy feels no pain, for to him, pain is only a distraction, and also a fuel to give him more resolve to finish the task before him.

Soon, he was left with only a few pieces, and the whisperings are at its loudest.


But the boy will not be broken.


He refused to be broken...


For a moment,

He stopped and looked towards the darkness.


He stood his ground.
Like a sentinel of light against the dark
Like a whole phalanx of Spartans against a battalion

His body poised against the oncoming onslaught.
Watching...waiting for the right time to come.

His eyes, cold and intense.
Pierced the darkness, alert.

His face, scarred and weathered by his ordeal.
Crease-lines lined his face, telling stories no book could.

He looked to the side and was confronted with a familiar-looking man looking at him.
A man with features very much the same as his.
The burning determination in his eyes
The scarred and weathered face

For a moment, he had thought that an older man was looking back at him.

It was then that he realised that that man was him.

His hands, hard and rough.
Scars crisscrossed them, some healed, some still bleeding.

He clenched his culloused hands into fists and looked downwards.

He had known that this moment will be coming soon.

He looked back up to the darkness.

His eyes now burning with defiance.
And beyond it.

With hope.

The light in his eyes betrayed his COMPASSION hiding before it as it plays back his memories back in his mind.

Of joy, sadness and anger
Of hatred, love and emptiness

He watched it all. And acknowledged them as the focal points in which has lead him to where he stands right now.

As the memories fade to the back of his mind, he look towards the darkness again.
Ready for what is in store for him

Like a burning torch held up against the darkness.
He stands waiting.

But from behind him

A voice says softly




Salvation


is at hand...