J.M Watkins
7-11-2023
319-330-5826
watkinsjennifer7@gmail.com
The Hunched Man
On a warm spring day in late May, a grieving young man named Samuel went to Peak Park, a serene park known for its tranquility. He found solace in the stillness of nature, settling on a grassy knoll that faced a pond teeming with ducks and geese. Overhead, birds chirped harmoniously, while a diverse array of vibrant trees enveloped him. While the park was often filled with people joyously gathering, Samuel had come to confront his own pain. Someone had broken his heart. It was a mistake that he disregarded the warnings he had heard throughout his life about the inevitable pain that love brings. His grandfather's words echoed in his mind: "Falling in love will kill you." His father's proclamation further added to the cautionary tales: "Love is a curse!"
Nevertheless, Samuel chose to ignore these warnings and fell deeply in love with a woman named Safa. It had been just a week since he last saw her, and memories of their time together lingered in his mind and tugged at his heart. He could sense deep down that she would never return. Safa possessed thick, black hair, which she styled differently each time they met. However, Samuel preferred it in its natural state, with its distinct curls.
As he sat on the knoll, lost in reminiscence, his head hung low. In a moment of despair, he cursed God without remorse. An hour passed, yet Samuel's head remained drooped between his knees. He curled his body, wrapping his arms around his shins to steady himself, as if defying the weight of both gravity and his own sorrow. Time seemed to lose its meaning as hunger and thirst slowly crept in, but he couldn't find the strength to move. Eventually, night descended, and Samuel, still with his head lowered, imagined the sky adorned with countless stars and a moon suspended by some mysterious force. The moon held a peculiar fascination for him, particularly the missing part that remained an enigma, unexplained by anyone.
Sleep eluded Samuel throughout the first night, consumed by his thoughts and the discomfort of his position. In the morning, a desire to witness the sunrise tugged at him, but he resisted lifting his head. The weight he felt threatened to snap his neck, rendering his body immobile. In his mind's eye, he imagined the sun gradually emerging from beneath the horizon, casting a gentle glow upon the pure blue sky. Rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds, illuminating them in a soft radiance. Samuel embraced the dew on his skin as the air slowly warmed around him. He dozed off in the afternoon. After a few hours, a searing heat finally jolted him awake. Upon awakening, Samuel's first thought was of Safa—her radiant face and the joyful moments they had shared the previous week. He yearned to lift his head and confirm her presence, but the weight remained too burdensome. Instead, he extended his arms as if reaching out to her, desperate for her touch. Moments later, he acknowledged the painful truth that she was nowhere to be found. Though he resisted believing in God, the notion brought some semblance of comfort as it provided him with something to direct his rage toward.
If Samuel had been a different man, Safa might have accepted him. If he had pursued a career in the tech industry like his friend Gregory or chosen business like his father, perhaps Safa would have deemed him worthy of love. Instead, Samuel embraced drawing as his profession, finding inspiration in nature as he often portrayed distorted and fading images of it. He depicted nature as ephemeral, with life perpetually teetering on the edge of collapse and dissolution. Although he drew every day, his pace was not fast enough to earn a living from it. Nonetheless, he found joy in the process. Due to his slow progress, he hardly considered himself an artist. Many people complimented his work, but their opinions held little significance to him. Despite the praise from friends, it never felt like enough. He never made a single cent from his art, which led him to work an overnight shift at a factory packing boxes, to pay his rent.
In Samuel's mind, there were two types of people in the world: those who mattered and those who didn't. The ones who mattered were the wealthy ones, achieving remarkable feats deserving of admiration. They were doctors, athletes, superstars, politicians, and scientists. Samuel, however, continued to struggle in proving his worth to the world. It made perfect sense that a woman like Safa wanted nothing to do with him. The mere thought of rejection caused his entire body to tense up, intensifying his desire for death to escape the pain. The hunched figure sitting on the knoll, known as Samuel, had come to understand the true meaning of impossibility—a truth that seemed unchangeable by anyone.
Now reduced to a hunched man, Samuel labeled himself as such. On this second day, the thought of relieving himself repulsed him. If there was anything that could coax him to move, it would be the pressing need to use the restroom. However, his melancholy gradually eroded his concern for such matters. During the second night, his sleep was fitful, and upon waking, an unbearable restlessness plagued him as thoughts of Safa tormented his mind. The idea of letting her go and never seeing her again felt like a mocking jest. Could he have said something more? Panic set in regarding his desperate need for food and water. Yet, he managed to convince himself not to budge. The realization that he might die there provided an odd sense of comfort. Safa would never witness his demise or even hear of it. Perhaps a lonely death would be a peaceful one, he pondered.
On the third day, he was unable to endure the hunger any longer. Samuel suddenly felt like he was too weak to see his mission through. Just as he was about to rise and give in, someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Take my food,” the stranger said. The man then picked up his limp arm and firmly placed the sandwich in his hand. The hunched man grumbled, too weak and ashamed to say anything. He devoured the sandwich, though swallowing was difficult with his head between his knees. Some of the food fell out of his mouth, but he ate even the bits that dropped. Immediately after eating, he grew more determined to stay in his current state and find meaning within it. However, the food gave him energy, which in turn intensified his thoughts. He felt worthless and like a failure. The hunched man felt ashamed for eating, as it signaled neediness, and he did not want to depend on anyone or anything. If he was going to challenge God, he couldn't derive enjoyment from eating and should only consume what was necessary.
By the fourth day, Samuel had settled into his hunched position and convinced himself that he was comfortable. Occasionally, his arms would go numb, and he would unfold and refold them around his shins again; it was bearable. His feet would also tingle, so he tapped them up and down to remain present in the moment. Despite his efforts, his thoughts involuntarily returned to Safa. Thinking about her excited and tortured him simultaneously. He attributed it to limerence, a foolish creation meant for God's entertainment. He could still vividly picture their exchanges of laughter as if they were happening in the present. It aroused him, yet he felt extreme self-hatred for still harboring feelings for someone who didn't love him back. He also harbored spite towards Safa, although he couldn't quite understand why. Someone had left him water, which he tipped into his right palm using his left hand, drinking it with his tongue like a dog. The sight of the man eating and drinking in such a manner would have been comical, and he wished people would observe him, perhaps making him a spectacle worthy of making the news.
As the fourth day wore on, Samuel grew increasingly exhausted, and the passing hours felt like days. His thoughts slowed down, and he dozed off for extended periods, waking up listlessly before dozing off again. The fog in his mind muddled his thoughts and disrupted his sense of time and space. He eventually lost track of time, mistaking midday for the passing of two or three days. The following morning, he no longer imagined the sunrise or sunset, and the moon's cycles slipped from his memory. In the late morning of the fifth day, the tantalizing aroma of hot food awakened him. Someone had left a cheeseburger. Samuel contemplated whether he wanted to eat it or continue starving and sleeping through the day. Unable to bear it any longer, he picked up the cheeseburger and, intending to pick at it, ended up gulping it down instead, drooling bits and pieces. At this point, Samuel perceived himself more as a creature than a man, and after consuming a meal, he experienced both weakness and shame.
In the evening, Samuel reminisced about first meeting Safa three weeks ago. It was a sunny day as he walked along a nature path by a creek, heading towards the mountains when Safa approached him. She stopped and asked, "Where is the library?" Samuel offered to walk her there, and she agreed. They followed the path north and then turned west at a fork, walking a total of 2112 paces. They passed under a pedestrian bridge, saying very few words. Five minutes later, they arrived, and Samuel held the door open for her.
"Thank you. How can I repay you?" she said kindly.
"Can I see you again?" Samuel asked.
The hunched man recalled that, at the time, he didn't know why he had asked to see her again. It was unusual for him to talk to strangers, especially women he didn't know.
"Oh, I suppose. You are a kind man. Yes, that would be great," she replied.
A few days later, Samuel couldn't believe it when she responded to his text. She agreed to meet him for coffee, and that day must have been the happiest day of his life. They met at a charming coffee shop with a patio perfectly illuminated by the sun. From where they sat, they could see the trails leading to the mountains. The light blue canopies shielded them from the sun's direct glare. The sunlight hit Safa at such a perfect angle that she radiated with a glow. Safa skipped the small talk, which Samuel admired. She seemed to be searching for answers about life and humanity, diving deep into conversation right away.
"Have you read Crime and Punishment?" Safa asked.
"A long time ago. I don't think I finished it. I forgot the main character's name. Did he end up getting caught?" Samuel asked.
"Did you want him to get caught?" she asked.
"Of course. He murdered someone. Did you?" Samuel asked, surprised.
"Not really. It felt inauthentic. Just as we were about to delve into the depths of human nature through Raskolnikov's character, an external authority disrupted the potential for this internal process to unfold."
“It’s okay to murder?” Samuel asked.
“No it’s not okay to murder but it’s more compelling when we are left to our own devices and forms of self punishment. Do you believe we truly have free will?" She inquired, watching him with an inquisitive face.
Samuel paused for a moment, contemplating her question. "I think we have a free will, but when you put it like that, maybe we don’t? It's difficult to determine the extent of its influence. Our actions can be shaped by various factors, such as our upbringing, societal norms, and even our biological predispositions."
Safa continued the conversation, her inquiries challenging Samuel's perspective and leading to a thought-provoking exchange.
"Can we truly be held responsible for our actions if our choices are influenced by external factors? Are we truly autonomous if we do not fully understand the extent to which we hold ourselves accountable?" Safa asked, her eyes searching for a genuine response.
Samuel sighed, grappling with the complexity of the topic. "I'm not sure. It's a paradoxical dilemma. On one hand, we feel a sense of agency in our decisions, but on the other hand, we're subject to the constraints of our circumstances. It's as if we're navigating a narrow path between determinism and autonomy. Perhaps both are necessary to shape our humanity.”
"But then it becomes a crisis between individualism and collectivism. Ugh. It’s simply impossible to have a unique thought,” she said, seemingly giving up on the conversation, ‘Isn’t there something new? Even science is mundane and will become outdated.We need a fresh way of thinking that we can adopt to explore humanity further?" she asked.
“I agree,” he said politely, even though he was offended by the science comment as he firmly believed it to be the truth.
As their conversation delved deeper into existential questions, Samuel found himself captivated by Safa's intellect and her ability to engage in profound subjects. Their exchange of ideas seemed to create an intellectual connection that resonated with him on a deeper level. Samuel however, wanted to talk about other things. He wanted to know more about her as a person and her interests.
Samuel smiled, in their brief pause and finally said, "I’m a painter you know. I paint landscapes mostly, but I also enjoy experimenting with abstract art. Nature has always been a great source of inspiration for me."
Safa's eyes gleamed with genuine interest. "That's wonderful! I admire artists. It takes a special eye to bring imagination to life on a canvas. Have you ever exhibited your work?"
Safa had asked the question that everyone had always asked him. It was as if he needed to have his work on display in order to be a true artist. Samuel hesitated, feeling a mixture of pride and self-doubt. "Not yet. I've been hesitant to showcase my art. I don’t feel it's ready for the public eye. I hope to gather the courage and confidence to exhibit my work someday."
Safa nodded understandingly. "It takes bravery to share something so personal with others. Don't let self-doubt hold you back. Authenticity can be found in expressing yourself through your art. What is your preferred genre?”
Samuel's heart swelled with a newfound sense of validation. Her words gave him a glimmer of hope and encouragement. Maybe, just maybe, he could find solace and purpose in his artistic endeavors. He became fidgety and kept looking around. The coffee shop was full of people, and a line stretched out the door onto the patio. Around them, people complained about their corporate jobs. The two men next to him engaged in an intellectual debate on the value of academic institutions and the need for intellectual thought. The sun bathed his left side in warmth. Safa was so beautiful. She was straightforward, with no in-between. She wanted to know what was on people's minds, and she would get an answer no matter what. She commanded her space in a way that was unique to anyone he knew.
"Look me in the eye," she said, waving her hands to regain his attention.
"I paint all the despair in the world. I just finished a painting. I'll show you." Samuel reached into his backpack and pulled out the rough draft of his painting, which he had started with watercolors. "It's a cluster of dead trees surrounding the one and only strong, tall, and robust tree. It makes me wonder about the significance of useless things in life."
"Useless? Sounds negative," she said, sounding harsh.
"I don't know. Dead things are useless, aren't they?"
"Maybe in a practical sense. But don't you believe dead things bring meaning into our lives?"
"Maybe," he said, insecurely, not wanting to answer wrongly.
“Experiencing a wide range of emotions is a beautiful thing. It's reminiscent of Raskolnikov and the pawnbroker he killed. This woman wasn't worthless; she formed the very core of his being, shaping his thoughts, feelings, and theories. Without her, the story wouldn't exist, and his experience would be fundamentally different. It brings us full circle to the paradox of free will and external punishment. Everything is connected, don’t you see that?”
"Yeah, that's true," he said, unsure if he agreed. Of course, he would not show that he disagreed. He felt that life was just a bunch of random events. ‘Anyways... Enough about me. What do you do?" he asked, scooping his drawing from the table and putting it into his backpack.
“I want to be a doctor,” she said.
As Samuel remained hunched on the knoll, memories of his conversation with Safa flooded his mind, stirring up a familiar sense of envy. He couldn’t help but feel useless and overwhelmed by a desire to escape from it all.
“What made you want to be a doctor?”
“My father was a surgeon and I was basically born into the medical field.”
Samuel found himself amazed by Safa's fluency in several languages. Although their taste in music differed—he preferred obscure and chaotic sounds while she enthused over Led Zeppelin—he still appreciated her passion for the band. After their initial encounter, they exchanged texts for a couple of days, and his feelings for her began to grow. However, when he expressed his emotions, she abruptly ended things, leaving him bewildered and hurt. With no explanation or further contact, he realized she was gone and would never return.
Then, the hunched man’s memory faded abruptly and he snapped back to the present, his body soaked by the persistent rain. All of his aches and pains returned, his emotions and feelings subsided. It had been almost six hours since his last meal, and exhaustion weighed heavily upon him. As hunger gnawed at his stomach, the sting of rejection, the burdens of life, and grief began to subside, if only slightly. Seeking solace, he quenched his thirst with the rainwater and, finding a moment of privacy, attended to his bodily needs, cleansing himself as the rain continued to fall.
During that night, he had a disturbing dream about a woman with a severely deformed face. A wide cleft palate ran from her eye, causing her face to appear as if it were melting off her skeletal structure. He could see the exposed muscles and tissue within the gap. One eye remained intact and perfectly shaped, fixating on the fear within his soul. She persistently uttered the word "accept" and demanded that he do so. He attempted to flee, but she was everywhere, continuously confronting him. He couldn't bear to look at her, unable to confront her deformity.
In the morning, he awoke covered in sweat, his body consumed by discomfort. As he went about his day, people mistook him for a vagrant on the path, offering him money despite his lack of interest. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky transformed from light to dark, an epiphany about the world and God struck him. Despite his conflicting beliefs and doubts, he found a peculiar satisfaction in acknowledging the existence of a higher power. The idea of teaching God a lesson by threatening his own life and using suicide as a message crossed his mind: "Let my suicide serve as a lesson," he contemplated.
His body ached more than usual, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to straighten himself and hold his face up to the sun. Just as he was about to straighten himself and feel the warmth of the sun on his face, he suppressed the urge; he convinced himself that remaining hunched was necessary for God to take him seriously.
Later that day, a surprising surge of inspiration ignited within his mind, filling him with profound pride. Soon, he began chuckling at how meaningless life was to him and how people attributed significance to this farce. He recognized that the sole purpose of humans was to perpetuate their species and eventually perish, and that procreation held no inherent meaning; it was merely instinct and biology devoid of reason. The hunched man saw people as functioning on autopilot, lost in their routines without much thought. While lost in contemplation, he suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter—a brief moment of joy, until the pain resurfaced.
He comprehended that pain endured while joy was fleeting. The park surrounding him was enchanting, adorned with flowers, a diverse bird population, and gentle rolling hills. Majestic mountains towered in the background, reaching unimaginable heights. Despite this awareness, he couldn't fully immerse himself in his surroundings. He remained hunched over, his head hanging between his knees, his body folded as he held himself up by wrapping his arms around his shins. A peculiar thought crossed his mind: were broken hearts intended to kill people and control the human population? If so, would he be willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good? The grieving man paid no attention to his environment because all he knew was the bleak, colorless, and desolate expanse of despair.
The hunched man was unsure of the passing of time. Then, one morning, a sense of self began to stir within him. Thoughts of Safa had mostly faded away. He came to the realization that he didn't truly desire death and that expressing his anger towards the world and God helped alleviate its weight. Like a passing thunderstorm, his inner turmoil subsided as well. He savored the touch of a refreshing breeze dancing through the air, while the sun's gentle warmth occasionally peeked through the clouds. Suddenly, he was startled by a voice that seemed to come from nowhere.
"My name is Adam. I see you every day. I mourn for you. Do you pray? It's important to lift your head, or else you'll remain stuck like this forever. Look at these mountains," he spoke rapidly, attempting to jolt the hunched man into movement and conversation.
Adam hovered over Samuel, with a sober face and an eyebrow raised.
The hunched man was taken aback when someone addressed him. He lacked the strength to respond and, in his obstinacy, refused to do so. When the stranger received no response, he bent down and gently patted Samuel on the back, providing a soothing touch that Samuel hadn't felt in a long time. Instantly, Samuel grew fond of Adam and didn't want him to leave. However, after saying a prayer for Samuel, Adam continued on his way. Later that day, to Samuel's dismay, an unsupervised group of children began to bully him. They threw rocks, testing if he could move, and taunted him, chanting, "Die, die!" The hunched figure groaned and soon spiraled back into grief and lost his sense of self that he gained earlier in the morning.
The following day, Adam approached him again, sharing some chocolate. Samuel surrendered to the food though, still feeling some resistance. Adam watched as the hunched man moved his arm and ate, knowing that this individual still held onto hope.
"Can I ask you something?" Adam inquired.
Thinking that he had forgotten how to speak, the hunched man let out a polite and short groan, attempting to indicate a yes.
"Do you want to die?"
The hunched man shrugged. Adam held out his palm, filled with water, intuitively aware that it was the hunched man's preferred method of drinking. He kept his arm around Samuel, and they sat in silence. Samuel felt at ease. The remainder of the day passed uneventfully, interrupted only by moments of the hunched man bursting into laughter and a smile gradually creeping across his face. Adam, his friend, remained consistent and persistent in his support for Samuel, who absorbed his concern. Adam showed up every evening. Samuel recalled what Adam had said to him the previous day:
"There is good in this world. Sometimes it seems that the bad outweighs the good, but the good is worth it. Trust me. Hold tight, my friend."
As the night wore on, the hunched man began to feel as though he might dissolve into the dirt, much like compost. He had another dream about the woman with the disfigured face, except this time she was at a distance and her face was a blur. She was waving at him, and Samuel could sense that she was smiling, as if expressing that she was proud of him. But for what? He couldn't even look at her. Why was she showing her support? The children who had thrown rocks at him were also in his dream, chasing each other and playing. They looked so happy and innocent. In the dream, Samuel dropped to both knees, opened his arms and chest to the sky, which shot down a brilliant flash of light into him. He screamed so loud that the whole dream collapsed, and everyone in it fell away. He woke up immediately after, and it was morning. He was still waking up when he heard a voice speaking to him. It confused him because it was not Adam's voice
"I am the messenger. I heard you needed help," the voice said. The messenger approached, bending down in an awkward position and peering up into his face. "Ah, I see a soul full of compassion and tenderness."
The messenger stood up, scratching her head, and then gazed into the distance.
"It's a woman who broke your heart, isn’t it?" The messenger indirectly spoke to Samuel.
Samuel was surprised that she knew this information. Was this truly an entity sent by God?
"You know, sir, you are sitting in your own soil. No offense, really, but what causes so much pain as sitting a man in his own waste?" The messenger said, easing out of her professional demeanor.
The hunched man did not respond. His body seemed to sigh and sink deeper into its fold. Then the messenger rolled her eyes and said, "Look at the mountains and the blue sky. See the life around you. If not, time will pass you by, and you will never witness what the world has in store for you." The messenger knew her words were in vain, and as she spoke them, she herself felt bored.
"Look, I may sound harsh…, You are a man, not a creature but a man, and yet here you sit with a broken heart, condemning yourself to eternity."
The hunched man stubbornly refused to move, growing increasingly irritated. The annoying voice felt like a condemnation wrapped in tough love, threatening him with future regrets.
"Okay, let me try a different approach... I empathize with you humans. You are filled with so much uncertainty. You want to know something funny? You now believe in science, just as you once believed in God. Now, it is science that supposedly holds the power to save you all. What do you all need saved from? Whatever you were told and whatever you were taught, one does not need to suffer to feel joy. By the way us heaven folk genuinely support human independence," she said, her voice sounding more comical.
Samuel thought this was a joke and believed that the thing speaking to him was an actor hired by Adam to manipulate him into moving. He didn't believe that messengers of God were real; he wasn't even sure if God was real. He questioned whether he was experiencing a hallucination and wanted to lift his head to see who was speaking to him, to be certain. However, Samuel did appreciate this new perspective on life, understanding that joy could exist separately from suffering.
"Okay, so no response, that's okay. Well, anyway, those who ask shall receive. Look at the things you do have. Ask, and you shall receive," the messenger continued, again with little conviction behind her words.
"I forgot about all these clichés humans often encounter. Bear with me while I collect my thoughts."
Samuel wanted to be left alone. He was afraid that this entity would get him to move.
"What do you want to happen?" The messenger asked.
The hunched man thought, "I want Safa to love me and be with me." Although that was his immediate thought, he felt a sinking feeling inside. He felt confused and uncertain, unsure of what he really wanted.
"Pick something that's not a person,’ the messenger said as if reading the hunched man’s mind. ‘Like, have you ever wondered what it’s like to stand inside a rainbow? To be honest, it’s wet. It’s like walking into a rainstorm but if you love rain, it’s the most beautiful thing a human can experience. If any cliché is true, you must love yourself…I suppose even that can be questioned if you want to make life difficult. Aren't you curious about life's mysteries? You can tell yourself anything, and the more you tell yourself, the more it becomes a fact."
The messenger remained patient with Samuel, but just as Samuel was about to speak, he suddenly felt the messenger's presence vanish, causing him to refrain. Once again, he felt relief that he wasn't giving in. The following morning, the messenger reappeared and this time, squatted, pouring something into her palms and held them up to the hunched man's lips.
“It’s from the spring. I thought you’d be thirsty.”
"It's strange how much strength one's will provides. You've endured this for nearly two weeks. I hate to say it, but the prince lasted forty-nine days, though that's irrelevant now. Move, Samuel, or I'll make you move.
Once again, the hunched man felt the messenger's presence abruptly vanish, leaving him alone again. People were always informing him that he wasn’t unique. Anger surged within him, and he cursed the messenger in his mind, convincing himself that he was happy the messenger was gone and wishing he would never return. Overwhelmed by a surge of emotions, the hunched man began to cry, unable to fully comprehend or articulate what he was feeling. It wasn't Safa that he truly desired. He struggled to recall the last time he had shed tears. The tears flowed down his face, and he tasted the salt in the moisture trickling above his lips as he sobbed. Sniffles and coughs accompanied the subsiding sobs. All he wanted was to feel happiness again. A gentle breeze brushed against his body, cooling him down, while the wind's whistle lulled him to sleep.
The next day, the messenger brought hot food with her, emitting an almost irresistible aroma. The hunched man could almost taste the meat and he salivated.
"I brought my pool chair this time around. Great invention, by the way," she remarked.
"Do you remember this aroma? The giant turkey legs of your childhood carnivals,’ the messenger said, teasingly. ‘Now I'm just being mean by reminding you of it. I have no doubt about myself or you. I'm simply letting time pass."
Samuel felt the same envy toward the messenger as he did toward Safa. Did the messenger have any hardships to worry about in her seemingly perfect world? Yet, Samuel needed and wanted the messenger around.
"There will be another woman who finds you. The world will not deprive you of what you want. If you don’t look up, you won’t see the person who will find the world in you," the messenger assured Samuel.
Once the messenger had finished her turkey leg, she surprised Samuel with some ice cream that seemed to come from nowhere. Once again, Samuel surrendered and could not resist the sugary sweet-treat. He licked it eagerly, resembling an excited dog. The taste was so sweet that it felt like a miracle to him. As he savored the ice cream, he let go of his visions of Safa and felt his heart steady.
"Never before have I questioned my ability to heal someone, Samuel. No one truly aspires to be like the Buddha; even the young prince had no idea that is what he would turn out to be. It's not that those occurrences are extremely rare; it's that the universe works in unison, and its individual parts must function in a way that is unique to them," the messenger explained. "However, you are awfully stubborn, much like the young prince."
With those words, Samuel felt goosebumps rise on his skin. If he moved, would he return to the same mediocre life he once lived? What was his purpose? He clenched in fear and was unable to loosen the strain on his body. He felt a scream ready to burst through his esophagus, his fists clenched tightly. "How do I move?" is what he wanted to say.
At night, the hunched man began to shiver. He had not felt cold in a long while. His thoughts were hazy, and he didn't know where he was or how he had been sitting. He was aware he existed but could not place himself in time and space. Had he been dreaming this whole time? Was Adam, the messenger, and Safa all a dream too? He was still clinging to the idea of the hunched man. He was still attached to the idea that those who mattered were rarities and exceptions to the rules. But what could he do in his position? He wasn't unique; he was just another man. He wanted to move that morning more than anything, but whether it was mental or physical, he wasn't able to. What shook him from this void was a familiar voice. It was Adam.
"Has the messenger taken care of you? I was just at the blood bank. I gave my blood to a child with leukemia. I see this world sometimes and see how horrible it is. I cannot blame you for your disposition and for your refusal to look up. Sometimes it feels like there is no God, but it would be a bleak world then. Are you ready to move, Samuel?"
Samuel was confused. He wasn't sure whether he felt guilty that he wasn't a boy with leukemia yet still suffering or if Samuel was going to kick him to the ground.
"I would lift your head for you, but that is not for me to decide. You choose your own path, and I know this is not what you are destined to do, my friend."
Samuel thought he could speak and say thank you. He opened his mouth, but only by less than an inch, and in his mind, it seemed like he had said something.
"I know you are in there," Adam said.
The hunched man could not see that the geese had lined up in V's on a mission to somewhere. Their duties had been completed in this place. They honked loudly as they took off. Smaller birds chirped, and dogs played and barked in the near distance. He realized that his surroundings had become peaceful.
“Once you love yourself, everything else will fall into place. Oh well, who am I to tell you all of this? I'm just a man.”
As quickly as his friend Adam came, he went even faster. The hunched man couldn't stand it. He didn't want to be like this. He questioned whether he could ever reclaim the time he had wasted on the knoll and doubted his ability to love himself after enduring so much suffering. Life felt impossible.
In the middle of the night, Samuel heard a whisper asking, "Are you ready?" He soon drifted back to sleep, but then something divine descended. Samuel felt a presence that seemed larger than life. As he opened his eyes, a bright light flashed, causing him to yelp. God then placed Its palm around Samuel's head and lifted it, saying, "Behold this magic." Samuel believed that he had not lifted his head on his own. He wondered if some mysterious force had aided him, for he was incapable of doing it alone.
Before Samuel's eyes, the moon appeared next to the sun, an unusual sight as it should have been on the other side of the planet. Instead, it shone brightly in broad daylight.
"It's on both sides of the world," the voice of God said.
Samuel believed the voice was in his head, but he knew it wasn't his own. He leaned his head back, gazing at the moon in daylight, feeling a surge of joy. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. As he turned his head, he saw a young boy standing there, someone he recognized from the park. The boy extended a coin and said, "Here you go, sir, for good luck." Then Samuel realized who the boy was as he ran off, joining his parents and swinging from their hands.
“You must trust the dark to see the light,” God said again.
Samuel examined the coin and then shifted his gaze to the moon. He looked ahead and locked eyes with a woman who had a small cleft palate just above her lip. Samuel studied her face, taking in his surroundings, the coin in his hand, and the moon above.
He spoke softly, "Everything is one."