Chapter 2 : The Shadow's Reckoning
Where is divine justice? Where are the priests? Where are the imams and Muslim scholars? Where are the Jewish rabbis? Do they think we know everything? Do they believe that God revealed the faith for us to bear its burden alone? No, He sent it to His prophets to serve as guides and beacons of light. But with the death of Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, the list of prophets and messengers was sealed, leaving us to face this world filled with temptations, desires, and indulgences.
In this era, humanity has become enslaved to its desires, running after the satisfaction of its urges, until the need for sex and immorality has become stronger than the need for air, food, or water. And yet, one conclusion remains clear: as long as we prioritise pleasing ourselves over pleasing our Lord, we will never comprehend the meaning of spiritual growth or intellectual elevation. The blessings of God will fade away from us, and we will drown in torment and affliction that we cannot recognize, for it blinds our vision and leaves us living like cattle, seeing nothing but the ground beneath our feet.
So, do not fear; I do not blame you. Instead, I blame those whom God entrusted with the responsibility of guiding us after the death of Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. Where are the priests? Where is the mission of the imams and Muslim scholars? Where are the words of the Jewish rabbis? By the One who created the universe, where is their work? Where is their role?
Ah, but how can they fulfil their duty when they are too busy pleasing the presidents and kissing the feet of kings? They have forgotten that their primary role is to enlighten the masses and guide them to the path leading to paradise and eternal peace.
But, unfortunately, every beginning has an end, and our lives are much like a train with its final station, where it eventually comes to a halt—just as it did for Ronald. The man who chose to leave this world in a way so painful that you wouldn't wish it even on your worst enemy. And now, here he is, with no provisions or deeds to intercede for him in his grave. Who will save him from the questioning of Munkar and Nakir, as mentioned in the Prophetic traditions of Islam?
But wait a moment. I'll let you absorb the reality of the situation you're in. I know my words have upset you and exhausted your mind—that mind of yours which struggled to keep up with my rapid leaps from one topic to another in record time. Honestly, I enjoy this. I enjoy torturing readers and dragging them into a labyrinth of thoughts. Perhaps that's why I have no fans or followers. But who cares? I don't write to please people. I write to speak the truth, the raw truth that hurts but awakens one from the illusions that so often fill literary works.
How many times have you read a story about a heroine falling in love with the hero, carrying the reader through a romantic journey that ends in tears of sorrow or joy? And yet, when the reader wakes from that dream, reality slaps them in the face. They realize they are single, living with their parents—or worse, alone—browsing explicit websites to fill the void that those literary works have left behind.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not attacking this genre of literature. I, too, write romance and specialise in fantasy literature. But what sets me apart is that I use these opportunities to deliver a message of awareness, one that helps the reader improve themselves and transform their lives for the better.
Now, let's return to Ronald. Why did he decide to take his own life?
A vast, radiant white expanse stretched before Ronald's eyes, gleaming like a massive pearl under a crimson sky. Five suns hung ominously in the horizon—three burning with a deep red hue, while two loomed as pitch-black voids, as if they were tears in the very fabric of existence. Around him, the grotesque corpses of humans hung or lay sprawled, each meeting a uniquely horrific end, their twisted bodies narrating tales of brutal deaths.
In the center of this surreal landscape sat Ronald on a rough, black sofa, his heart pounding against his chest as his wide eyes scanned the nightmare surrounding him. In a trembling voice, he asked:
Ronald:
"Where am I? What is this place? Am I... dead?"
Suddenly, a faint yet profound voice arose from one of the hanging bodies, the words flowing as though from the depths of darkness itself.
Dead One:
"Welcome to the Realm of Reckoning, Ronald. Here, the truths you fled from your entire life are unveiled."
Ronald: (confused)
"The Realm of Reckoning? But... what did I do to deserve this?"
Another corpse twitched unnervingly, its tilted head rising slowly as it rasped:
Dead Two:
"Every death here is a reflection of its owner's sins. Look around you; each body tells a story of betrayal, greed, or injustice. And you, Ronald... what's your story?"
Ronald leaned back on the sofa, his gaze darting nervously between the corpses.
Ronald:
"I... I don't remember. I don't remember doing anything that would lead me here. Why am I here?!"
Then, a third corpse stirred, its voice cold and whispering like a chilling wind that cut through the space.
Dead Three:
"You are here because you chose to run instead of facing your demons, because you let despair take hold and rule over your life. Here, Ronald, you will learn the truth you've long denied."
A heavy silence fell upon the scene, as if the last words had pierced the core of his being. Ronald looked up at the crimson sky, his voice barely audible as he whispered to himself:
Ronald:
"Can I escape? Or is this the fate I can never outrun?"
The voice rose again, clearer and more powerful this time, laced with a mocking tone:
The Voice:
"You fool... look what you've done! You've locked the door on yourself. Now we can't get out!"
Ronald glanced around, searching for the source of the voice, but all he found was the oppressive void surrounding him.
Ronald:
(trembling) "Who are you? What do you want from me?"
A faint laugh echoed, like the rumble of wind on a stormy night.
The Voice:
"Ah, Ronald... welcome back. How are you? you thought i disappeared, but it seems you haven't escaped me yet."
Ronald: (angrily, fearfully)
"Answer me! Who are you?!"
The voice responded with a cold tone that seeped into his very bones:
The Voice:
"Me? I'm your beloved demon, Ronald. I'm that shadow you've kept hidden your whole life. I'm the voice of doubt that whispered in your ear, the fears that haunted your nights. I'm every wrong choice you made, every sin you committed. I am... you."
Ronald: (shocked)
"What do you mean you're me? That's impossible!"
The Voice: (ignoring his reaction)
"Don't feign surprise, Ronald. Every person carries their shadow within. But you... you gave me power. Every time you ran from your fears, you nurtured my existence. Every lie you told, every betrayal you committed, every weakness you showed made me stronger... until I became a part of you, inseparable."
Ronald fell silent for a moment, then summoned his courage and asked:
Ronald:
"And what do you want from me now? Why am I here?"
The Voice:
"You're here because you lost control, Ronald. This place is a reflection of your inner self. No one can save you but yourself. But..."
Ronald: (interrupting)
"But what? Tell me! How do I get out of here?"
The Voice:
"Ah, escape? It's simple, really, but not in the way you think. The only way out is to face me—to face yourself. You must acknowledge all your faults and sins, accept me as a part of you, but never allow me to take control. If you succeed, you'll be free... but if you fail, I'll stay here with you forever."
Ronald stared into the void, his mind racing through the voice's words. Could he do it? Could he face the shadow that had haunted him his entire life? Taking a deep breath, he answered, his voice filled with resolve:
Ronald:
"I'll do it. I'm tired of running. If this is the only way, I'll face you... no matter the cost."
Ronald stood still for a moment, staring into the void as if trying to gather what little strength he had left. Then, he spoke in a quiet voice, one laced with an unexpected determination:
Ronald:
"Alright... I'll do it. I'll change myself for the better. I'll defeat my demon, no matter the cost."
The demon's voice rose, laughing mockingly, like a cruel melody played on Ronald's frayed nerves:
The Demon:
"Good luck, dear Ronald. I can't wait to see what you'll learn."
But Ronald didn't reply. Instead, his eyes fell on the gun lying on the table before him. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out, picking it up as if the slightest misstep would shatter the fragile scene. He stared at the gun for a few moments, then raised it to his forehead.
The demon's voice returned, this time tinged with an uncharacteristic hint of urgency:
The Demon:
"I know what you're thinking, but trust me, it'll only make things worse. I know more than you do."
Ronald ignored the warning entirely, a bitter smile crossing his lips as he whispered to himself:
Ronald: "
Yes... a new day, a new life. But first... I need to kill myself again."
Before the demon could utter another word, Ronald pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the void, and his body collapsed lifelessly to the ground, blood pooling around him like a dark shroud enveloping the truth.
The demon's voice erupted in a mixture of frustration and fury, reverberating through the empty expanse:
The Demon:
"Damn you... you bastard!"