The Tattered Box

October 16, 2017

I embarked on this quest seven years ago, and oh what a long seven years it has been, what atrocities I have committed, what terrors I have caused. I am a very different person now than I was when I left. I can remember every detail, every life that I have ruined. There’s nothing, no words that can adequately describe the look in someone’s eyes when the life leaves them. Before my journey, I had never seen it; but now, as I approach the end, when I close my eyes, it’s all I can see.

In the beginning, there were twenty-six of us, but now, there is only me. I am the only one who was willing to do what it took. I was the only one willing to sacrifice it all, and I did. I have lost everything: my family, my friends, even those in my team are gone. They all gave their lives -- along with countless others -- so that I could be here, in this moment; and here I was, in a place people thought no longer existed, followed by a trail of bodies and death. All I could do now is look forward; it’s too late for me, I can’t turn back now. I don’t know that I could even bear to look back at what I had done.
I had passed the test that hundreds had failed simply because I chose the goal over the lives of others. So, here I stand; I held a tattered box in my bandaged hands, around me the ruins of an old factory. I stood on a vat that long ago contained something people once called “ice cream”. I looked up at the keeper of this place. He looked at me and said, “ I hope it was worth it.” I inhaled deeply, and slowly lifted the lid. I held my breath. Nothing could have ever prepared me for what it contained. It was everything I imagined it would be, and so much more. I exhaled and said, “It was.” My eyes sparkled in its grandeur. I slowly put my hand in, and gently lifted it out. After all these years of searching, I finally had it. I closed the lid, overtaken by feelings of fulfillment that I have never experienced before. This is it, the moment that I was born for. Many could search their entire lives and never find the perfection that I have. No drug could ever compare to the euphoria of this.
If you’re wondering how I got here, if you’re wondering if you have what it takes to achieve this type of god-given perfection, then there’s a question that you need to ask yourself: What would you do for a Klondike bar?






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