The broken land of my people was told to wait, though no one is busy and time is fleeting. My people are sick and some are dead and yet, they breathe and walk and go to work, but they are dead. The sick home of my people was told to be patient and it has been patient for hundreds of years, and though it is soaking with blood it promises to be patient until forever. The silence creeps up on mothers who hold the little ones that cannot breathe and cannot walk. Their fathers are nowhere to be seen; just like the food that once touched their lips and the comfort they felt knowing all was well. The sick land of my people has not heard of laughter and though we break and do not own much, our silence does not echo around the world.

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Alone I was to my dark thoughts. I turned back and forth in my bed trying to find comfort in sleep. I simply couldn’t. My mind and heart were wandering around in a deranged world not yet ready for rest. I felt an urge to scream, but couldn’t. I felt an urge to weep, but my eyes were dry from past sleepless nights filled with tears. I needed a distraction. I needed an escape. I needed to forget.

“Knock, Knock”, all of a sudden I heard from afar. I glanced carefully, trying to see through the darkness surrounding me.

Little did I know, the devil himself paid me a visit with a guest I had not expected. The guest came in adorned and beautified as a bride is beautified for her groom–a courtesy from the devil himself. And so the night unraveled it’s dark tale. It happened just like that:

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