5 At the Artisy Diner, Ardum District

17th November

Less lit hall. Candles of different sizes encircling every corner. I can't spot the exit, either a door or windows. Wind surely can't dance freely in here. The sound of whispers will shock every vein if done. A cool breeze started to enveloped my warm hands.

A woman in her red tube dress appeared suddenly at the center of the hall. Arms and feet tied tightly, making them wounded every time she moves. I spotted red stains on the ropes, and indeed, it's her blood. A cover stops her from making a shout, her fast breathings were heard around the four corners, and her eyes are filled with fear and tears.

Numbers of hooded black robes emerged one after the other. Mumbling the same sentence repeatedly until they fully occupied the hall encircling the woman with a distance. Their voices echoed the room as the woman didn't stop loosening herself unsuccessfully and unnamed emotions in her eyes.

The creepy resonating voices stop as a hand is raised at the front line. They managed to follow without hesitation, not minding and eyeing the helpless woman lying wounded on the floor. Their faces were all hidden, not letting each other know by the other. Hiding can quickly be done added by the shadows they have from the candles below them.

"The Unknown let us live immortally," said the person who raised his hand a while ago. "As his loyal servants and followers, let us offer him a gift."

As the speaker raised both his hands, they all did the same. And another batch of mumbling sentences in chorus filled the room.

The woman still does loosening herself unsuccessfully as the voices got louder and louder. A thunderous shout echoed as black smoke appeared above the lying woman and enveloped her body. Entered her wide-opened eyes, making her body argued with the thing in her until her orbs turned black.

"Hail to The Unknown!"

***

I blinked my eyes once again as I looked at my professor's black orbs. He's intently eyeing me as I have to answer his question. I already formulated my answers in my head as the bell rang. I might say, save by the bell. Unfortunately, I can't do my recitation tomorrow because it's Saturday. Quite a trouble, I may say.

I'm the last one to leave the room. I turn my back, eyeing my chosen seat for about a quarter in front of the teacher's platform. Three meters away from the transparent board.

It's just me or my hallucination that I saw a woman in her red tube dress sitting? I shook my head and eyed my seat again, but no one's there.

"I'm just a hungry shark wanting big fishes as prey," I told myself before setting my path to the canteen.

Grabbing a snack took me a minute and another five minutes to finish it. There are things I must prioritize aside from savoring my meal. For example, is my research study. I'm digging some huge holes for me to be able to have reliable proofs about my statement.

It's not awkward to think about a particular problem regarding self-truth. What does this world aim for us to do? How come our descendants survive the war that long? How does New Cica develop drastically? Can these few religions save us from the brink of death, or they're the ones who'll push us to the pit of our end?

The bottom line is, how come I'm here at New Cica 0030? For what purpose?

As no one can answer my queries in life, I studied, work, live, and breathe alone. No colleagues or such friends to name. And I'm used to it. Nothing changes a thing from the start.

After such hours of school, I directed myself to the diner I'm working with as a waiter. A proper wage is given, and free dinner saves me every night problem.

I was caught off guard by my customer's greyish orbs. His eyes resembled a thing I've encountered, but then I can't recall for a moment. Of all the people who dined in this mid-luxury restaurant, remembering each scene destroyed my train of recognizing them one by one. I'm like a broken backward button of a remote.

"One caffè macchiato, please." The voice of my current customer interrupted my recalling-the-scene session.

"Anything, ma'am?" I asked politely since that's what the diner's rule stated and must be followed. Even my voice appeared polite, and my co-workers commented as always that my eyes expressed the opposite. I can't blame myself; it's me. Nothing changed.

"None." As she answered, I repeated her order and excused myself to let the kitchen crew know her palate of the night.

After that scene, I found myself facing the comfort room's mirror. Intently eyeing my blue orbs as something unusual can be seen from it. A while ago, I felt a sudden ache on my head, and flashes of blurry events appeared in it. But, this not the first time.

Every time I start to remember them and let someone know, which I can't seriously do, my head is aching. Allowing myself filled with those feelings I felt within those nightmares. I can't finish a meal as flashes of scenes interrupt my time. Saying they should be my meal, not the ones in front of me.

I found myself staring at my professor one day with horror as I've seen how will be his end. Being beaten by murderers who happen to snatch his things away. He's also been stabbed multiple times by two of them until he's lifeless. Head pounded by some hard rock. Blood covered the dusty restricted street.

Also, one of my customers happens to be a dissected frog alive. Before seeing the whole event, I drastically shook my head, receiving weird stares from him.

I always woke up with dark circles under my eyes, restless, sweat all over my body, fear. Deep stern voice, blood, dark room, dead bodies, death of someone. Those are they.

I wash my face several times, not minding my uniform be wet. What was happening? I already surpassed those nightmares, and I am already in guidance of the above. Is the prayer of the reverend have a limitation? Did he deceive me?

Can someone explain these feelings and the situation I'm into now?

Because of rage, I can't help myself punch the lifeless mirror. Giving my small knuckle lines of wounds and the mirror is broken totally. Some of my blood left the center part tainted.

I already made myself believe the rude and arrogant reverend that I consulted a month ago. Still, this event in my life is proof that he's not as holy as he is. He doesn't have the power from the above. He's a deceiver and manipulator, self-centered person. Just want people's faith to be with him and make himself famous in an indecent way of life. He's the trash that must be burned alive.

I know that concluding like this is a sin, but it's about my mental decency. Even I can't understand my whole life having these things on my head believing others that I'm a mentally ill person. I know that they saw me as a buffoon or something like that.

Nevertheless, I should visit him. That eccentric reverend. My life story must be known by him so that no acts and scenes must be left untold. In this way, being arrogant may leave his unholy soul for just a minute.