Echoes of a Distant Dream

Despite his long-standing passion for psychology since childhood and his relentless pursuit of becoming a psychiatrist, university life was crushing his dream day by day. Even though he was studying his chosen field, his life had become the exact opposite of what he wanted—dark and miserable. Now, he needed nothing more than money, whatever it took.

That's why he had taken a job as a psychological counselor for addicts, even though the meager salary felt like charity work.

He entered the addiction treatment center and headed straight for his small office. After sitting at his desk, he began organizing himself, preparing for the next session. Suddenly, a strange man entered his office—a mysterious figure with peculiar features. He was holding a black plastic bag, his tall frame stretching as his long, curly black hair touched his neck. His thick black beard almost concealed parts of his face, and his shiny, brown left hand was hidden beneath the folds of his long robe. His appearance was chaotic and disorganized, his features scattered and unaligned. His visual problems were evident as he wore glasses to compensate for his impaired vision.

The man spoke, "Hello, how are you, Mr. Hazel?"

Hazel responded, "I'm only 26 years old, and I'm not a 'Mr.'! So, sit down, and let's finish this session quickly, please."

The disorganized man sat down and faced Hazel. Hazel asked, "What's your name? How old are you? And what's your problem?"

The disheveled man replied, "Honestly, I can't remember my age or my name, but you can call me 'The Disorganized.'"

Hazel said, "Alright, Mr. Disorganized, what's your issue? What drug have you been addicted to that left you in such a bad state?"

The disorganized man was silent for a few moments, staring at the floor before speaking in a quiet, strange voice. "I don't know what my problem is, Mr. Hazel, but I've gone to every place seeking treatment. I've visited many big hospitals and private clinics, but no one could help or cure me. I woke up one day like this. I don't know who I am, where I am, or where I came from!"

Hazel muttered quietly to himself, "Damn it! Another one of those crazy addicts!" Then he asked, "Were you taking any particular medications? Give me their names!"

The Disorganized smiled faintly, stood up, grabbed the black plastic bag, and emptied its contents onto Hazel's desk. Hazel recoiled in shock at the sheer volume of pills and medications that tumbled out!

He thought to himself, "Damn! What the hell is all this? Can a person even take all of this? There are hundreds, maybe thousands of pills here!" Then he asked aloud, "Did you actually take all of this?"

The Disorganized replied, "I can't remember, but probably, yes."

Hazel spoke harshly, "Are you sane? Who gave you all of this?"

The Disorganized said, "I don't remember, but maybe I'm someone who lost his memory. I was always going to clinics for treatment, and they were the ones giving me these medications !"

Silence fell over the room, and before Hazel could speak, the Disorganized stood up, gazing strangely into the distance behind Hazel, as if he sensed something. He stared past Hazel's shoulders, as if he saw something mysterious! Then he began to sway and shudder, moving like a drunken man, spiraling into madness, his body shaking uncontrollably. He shouted, "Earthquake! Earthquake! There's an earthquake!" And suddenly, without warning, he fled the office, running out of the center until he disappeared from sight.

Hazel stood frozen, trying to comprehend the madness of this person. He realized, for the first time, that there were people in worse conditions than him. But after this encounter, Hazel felt strange sensations and a severe dizziness. He was filled with despair and an overwhelming sense of frustration. He decided to leave work and return home, unable to shake the dizziness creeping over him.

He left the center and hailed a taxi. All he could think about was the darkness of life and the suffering people must endure. His mind was chaotic, overrun with conflicting thoughts and waves of darkness crashing around him. His head throbbed with pain, but he didn't feel it due to his focus on watching the scenery pass by through the taxi window. His attention was fixed on the green trees and the beautiful landscapes that absorbed his mind. Suddenly, as if time stopped for a moment, the car veered sharply, speeding uncontrollably toward a strange tree that reeked of death!

That tree was isolated and completely dead, with its twisted branches and dry, barren form standing in stark contrast to the lush green forest surrounding it. This strange tree was entirely different, as if it didn't need fertile soil or the right conditions to grow. Instead, its roots were firmly embedded in a rock, as solid as a fortress deep in the heart of a secret.

Meanwhile, the passengers' screams escalated, their terror dancing to the rhythm of impending doom, like a dark tragedy looming over them. But Hazel's mind was only occupied by that dead tree—it reminded him of something. He felt as if he had seen this tree somewhere before. Time didn't allow him to recall it. In a moment of fiery violence, one of the tree's branches shot out like an evil catapult! It tore through metal and flesh like a sharp blade! Glass shattered, the car's frame twisted grotesquely, and fear spread like an inferno. Bodies were torn apart, limbs scattered, and death's presence reigned supreme.

There was no time, no hope left. The screams did nothing, as the sounds of agony and despair filled the car, while the demonic branch of that tree seemed to dance with the souls consumed by fear and blood. The horror played out on a stage in the kingdom of nightmares.

The trunk of the tree, as if it were a portal to the realm of death, pierced through everything with its jagged edges. It struck everyone in the car, including the driver, leaving behind a bitter tragedy—a pool of hot blood flooded the vehicle. Hazel, with all his might, tried to survive, to escape the car or at least do something, but he could barely move! His left arm had been severed by the branch that tore through the car. Despite the brutal amputation and the pain that followed, his injury was the least severe compared to the other passengers of this horrific journey.

The screams and wails around the car persisted for a long time, as the desperate passengers struggled in vain to survive. As time passed, the echoes of torment faded, and an eerie silence filled the air. Hazel was the only one left conscious, but suddenly—he too closed his eyes, as if consumed by the darkness...

...