Rebirth
In a world full of rules, ever wonder what those rules really do? It's a bit confusing, right? Laws are there, but do they actually work? Especially when you look around and see crimes happening almost every day.
Have you thought about why laws exist if they're not enforced properly? Just turn on the news, and you'll see a bunch of bad stuff—rape, murder, corruption. It's like the world is full of all kinds of terrible things.
And here's the kicker: sometimes, it feels like the law isn't the same for everyone. Ever notice that rich folks seem to get away with things more often? Even if they're caught doing something really wrong, they can still dodge the consequences. How? Simple – they've got money.
Yup, money, the troublemaker in our world. No matter how serious the crime, having money can help you escape punishment. It doesn't seem fair, does it?
So, here's the deal: the news shows us this messed-up reality where the rich can break the rules and not get in trouble, while the poor struggle just to survive. Is it okay for poor folks to go hungry, beg for help, and never get a fair shot at improving their lives?
I bet you've had that moment in your life when you thought, "What if I could take on these crimes without waiting for the police or anyone in charge?" I know I've daydreamed about having some extraordinary power to stand up against the bad guys. But, let's be real, it's usually just a dream, right?
Well, everything changed for me when I had an encounter with death. It was a moment that shifted everything I thought I knew about life and what I could do about the chaos around me.
So, let me start from the beginning..
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The clock struck 10 pm, and there I was, still grappling with code on my PC. It dawned on me too late that the office had become an eerie quietude, with me nearly the sole inhabitant, surrounded by the hum of machinery and the glow of screens.
"Annoying," I muttered under my breath, the word hanging heavy in the air as if it could fix the tangled mess of code on my monitor. But frustration settled in, a stifling cloud that refused to dissipate. Eventually, I conceded defeat. It seemed futile to keep wrestling with the bugs in the system we had painstakingly created. Perhaps my brain needed a break before I could untangle the web of errors.
I decided to step away from my desk, breaking the monotony of the flickering fluorescent lights. As I left my office space, the realization hit me: "Hey, it's overtime." A heavy sigh accompanied my exit, a weary acknowledgment of the time I was sacrificing to wage war against the digital glitches. The night air outside beckoned, offering a temporary reprieve from the digital maze that had consumed my evening.
The road stretched before me, cloaked in the shroud of night, and an unsettling darkness hung in the air. Reluctance crept over me as I contemplated the prospect of walking home. I fumbled with my mobile app, desperately trying to secure a Grab taxi, only to be met with the disheartening notification that no drivers were available.
With each unsuccessful attempt, the urgency to reach home grew. Determination sparked within me, pushing me to brave the dimly lit streets on foot. I stepped out, my surroundings cast in shadows, and began my journey homeward.
The click-clack of my footsteps resonated in the quietude, accompanied only by the distant hum of the city. The neon glow of storefronts flickered, casting intermittent glimmers on the pavement. I glanced around, hoping to spot an available taxi that eluded my digital grasp.
The solitude of the night enveloped me, and every step felt like a negotiation with the shadows. Yet, the desire to return home propelled me forward, my eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of a taxi's welcoming lights.
In the dimly lit obscurity of the night, my senses heightened as I continued my journey on foot. Suddenly, two shadowy figures emerged from the darkness, standing in anticipation. Unease settled in as their eyes met mine, and even at a distance, I could discern their hushed whispers. A chill ran down my spine, and a palpable sense of foreboding filled the air. Instinctively, I understood – they harbored ill intentions.
Fear surged through me, compelling me to alter my path and divert away from their ominous presence. But as soon as they noticed my evasive maneuver, a sudden urgency gripped them. In an instant, they broke into a run, closing the distance between us.
Panic set in, coursing through my veins as I grappled with the realization that I was now the target of their pursuit. In that tense moment, my focus shifted to survival. Ignoring the fatigue and the weight of wakefulness that clung to me, I pushed myself to run, the rhythmic pounding of footsteps echoing in the desolate night.
In my haste, my bag, burdened with only a laptop, slipped from my grip and thudded onto the pavement. A pragmatic decision flashed through my mind – shedding the weight might be the key to outrunning the impending threat. Every ounce of energy was channeled into escape, and I sprinted through the shadows, the night swallowing my silhouette as I left behind the discarded bag, hoping that the sacrifice of possessions would grant me the speed to evade the looming danger.
Mid-flight from the two menacing figures, a wave of relief washed over me as they abruptly halted their pursuit. Looking back, I saw them retrieve my bag, only to abandon their chase upon discovering its contents. A mix of emotions flooded my mind – the dread of facing my boss's wrath for the lost company laptop battled with the gratitude of escaping a potentially perilous situation.
Taking a moment to catch my breath, I found a spot to rest. I sank onto the road, beads of sweat trickling down from the exertion of my impromptu sprint. After a brief respite, I decided to continue my journey on foot. However, as I rose to my feet, an unexpected sight awaited me – someone standing directly in my path, and in a sudden, shocking turn of events, I felt a searing pain in my side.
My eyes widened, speech caught in my throat as the assailant withdrew a knife. The world seemed to pause as I grappled with the surreal horror of the situation. The attacker showed no remorse, his expression cold and unyielding. In the aftermath of the attack, he wasted no time rifling through my pockets, snatching away my cellphone and whatever money he could find.
Silenced by shock and weakened by the unexpected assault, I found myself unable to muster the strength to call for help. The abrupt shift from evading potential danger to becoming a victim left me vulnerable, a captive witness to the thief's callous act.
As the assailant vanished into the shadows, leaving me wounded and robbed, a cold darkness enveloped my senses. The world around me blurred, and a chill permeated my being as I felt the life draining away. "Maybe this is how the world really is," echoed in my mind as I braced for what seemed like my final moments.
In the fading light, a child's laughter reached my ears. Amidst the encroaching darkness, the young voice pierced through, asking, "Hahaha, do you want to change the course of your world?" The child peered at my blood-stained form, an unsettling juxtaposition of innocence and the brutality of my circumstances.
With strength waning and the last vestiges of life slipping away, I couldn't respond. Yet, in the recesses of my thoughts, I vowed, "If I get one more chance, I myself will find a way to change the world." And with that silent declaration, my existence flickered away – my final moments as a conventional soul bound by the constraints of a flawed system.
The next day, I jolted awake in my bed, a surge of bewilderment coursing through me. I hastily sat up, grappling with the inexplicable reality of being alive. "How?" I muttered to myself, an array of unanswered questions echoing in my mind.
Driven by a need to make sense of the inexplicable, I examined my side, where the assailant's knife had pierced me. To my astonishment, there was no trace of a wound. I sought a mirror, hoping to confront the truth reflected in my own image. In a desperate attempt to convince myself it wasn't a dream, I even resorted to slapping my own face, the sting confirming the stark reality of my existence.
Despite the vivid recollection of my demise the previous night, the details of how I got home or the events leading to my revival remained elusive. Panic settled in, but in the midst of my disarray, I discovered something in my pocket – a card, resembling a tarot card. A chill ran down my spine as I beheld the image on the card, depicting a prone figure, drenched in its own blood. The horror intensified as I realized the figure was unmistakably me.
Beneath the haunting image, a single phrase was scrawled: "THE FOOL." The inexplicable nature of my resurrection now intertwined with a mystifying tarot card, leaving me to grapple with the enigmatic forces that had granted me a second chance at life. The journey that lay ahead seemed destined to be fraught with uncertainties and revelations, with "THE FOOL" as the cryptic herald of an unforeseen destiny.