When they tell you that they are the enemies of the people, don’t believe them. Aim higher, reach skies and blame for what’s in there. It is astonishing to know the realisation that the self-perpetuating sense of endless want of an end, prevails in human mind. It prevails and lives on healthily. So is with Ehlon,he had always been a bit of a philosopher, and as he grew older, he spent more time pondering the big questions of life and death. He wasn’t afraid of death per se, but he was intensely curious about it. He had seen his health wane over the years, with his abdomen giving him hell and his head pounding like a drum more often than not. Not to mention the vomiting—oh, the endless vomiting. It seemed his body was in a constant state of rebellion, and he couldn’t help but think that death was knocking at his door, ready to invite him to the other side.
He felt abandoned, as if life itself had turned its back on him. His family, once a source of strength, had become distant and estranged. In a fit of frustration and longing for peace, he decided to push them all away, convinced that solitude was the answer to his unrest. He thought that by isolating himself, he could find tranquility and maybe, just maybe, come to terms with the inevitable end that awaited him.
He would plod along thin lines of what life offers but refuse to partake wholly. He always would be holding his head high, huh even in the face of overall self-unacceptance. He never played the obvious terrain of sel-accomodation, he didn’t want to be a victim, or thought of as one, even though life had dealt him a tough hand. He found contentment in his independence, believing that he didn’t need anyone or anything to validate his existence. His sense of self-worth came from within, a personal valor that he clung to fiercely. He was ready to give up everything else just to be enmeshed with his own status of a non-conformist in society.
But as the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, Ehlon began to question his decision to push everyone away. Was solitude really the answer, or had he made a grave mistake? He realized that the journey to self-renewal was a winding road, filled with mysteries and uncertainties. He didn’t need to ascend to higher planes of existence to find peace; he needed to silence the demons that haunted him, to find a way to live in harmony with the ‘bad spirits’ he believed were plaguing his life.
With this realization, Ehlon decided to put pen to paper and draft his last will and testament. He knew his time was limited, and he wanted to leave behind a clear message for those who would remain. As he wrote, he poured out his thoughts and feelings, unburdening his soul onto the pages before him.
He didn’t want a grand farewell or a lavish funeral. He didn’t want to be buried beneath a slab of stone, forgotten by the world. He wanted to be cremated, his ashes scattered to the wind, free from the confines of the earth. “Why waste land on a grave when they won’t even remember me in life?” he would say, his voice filled with bitterness.
But as he continued to write, his tone softened. He spoke of his life, of the highs and lows, the joys and sorrows. He admitted his missteps and expressed his regrets, laying bare his soul for all to see. He questioned whether he would be able to see his body burn, to watch as the flames consumed him. “Will I have eyes to see? Will I be able to get close to my relatives and show them that I’m still here?” he wondered aloud, his words filled with a mix of curiosity and longing.
He pondered the mysteries of life and death, the what-ifs and the maybes. He spoke of his hunger for love, for lust, for the freedom to live without secrets or shame. “I want to live beyond this earthly existence, beyond the misery and pain,” he wrote, his words flowing from a place deep within.
And then, with a final flourish of his pen, he signed his name, leaving behind a heavy, ink-blotted period and a short, poignant message: “I fucking hated you!” It was a raw, unfiltered expression of his feelings, a final farewell to the world he was leaving behind.
When the time came, and his body was laid to rest upon the pyre, Ehlon’s light shadow lingered. He watched as the flames danced and flickered, consuming his mortal remains. He screamed, it seemed not in pain, but in a futile attempt to stop the nature from doing its bit, to hold onto the life he had known. But as the flames grew higher, he realized he had no control, that his time had come and gone.
His screams faded into silence, and his silhouette disappeared from view. His body was gone, reduced to ashes and dust, and he was free at last. With a smile on his face, Ehlon turned away or what was left of him beyond the realm of his physicality, from the world he had known, ready to embrace the unknown, to find out what, if anything, lay beyond the sphere of life and transcend.
If he had another chance, he would something along the lines of; I am the juvenile of the unknown who turned ashes into life and life itself has no meaning now. Grip that!
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