by Jude Haj Ali

Created on: January 29, 2011

The moon was imprisoned beneath a thick blanket of gray. No stars. No sky. Only darkness was present.  

He strode through the streets unguarded and exposed. They would reach him. He would be forced to succumb to the eerie deceiving grasp of the shadows. He was not safe. No one was.

Thunder roared, announcing their arrival. They wafted and danced towards him, coaxing him and beckoning him to come closer.

Their masks of harmlessness fooled him.

He moved a step towards them. Another step. And another.

He could feel their warm breath against his face. They reached out to him with their wispy, smoky fingers, grabbing him tightly.

Trembling, he realized what was to become of him, but it was too late. He was gone, enveloped within the shadows, alone and terrified.

Silence welcomed him. It was his only companion in this pen of depression. He spent long, blood curdling years in its company, waiting to be set free. Silence tortured him, beat him, attacked him, lashed at him, scolded him, all in attempt to destroy the hope he was so keen to remain faithful to. But that would not happen.

 He could not lose hope. Hope was what helped him hold on to the thin string that was his life. Hope triggered the memories. The memories that reminded him of the beauty life had to offer. The memories had made him believe.

That was who he was. He was Belief.

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