The man had been sitting alone in his room for a long time. It could have been days. He lost track, frozen to the spot by a horrifying vision. It came to him one morning, piercing his mind like a hot needle, and he could not move ever since. It had been forming for some time, a macabre puzzle made of fragments of nightmares, and now with the final piece in place, it paralyzed him. It left no hope, no possibility of a different outcome, all the options were out. For a brief moment he wondered if anyone else has been struck with this terrible thought, if panicked messages were flickering across the globe. But he knew he didn’t care, it did not matter. It was done. He turned to the window and waited.

They found him a few days later. Sitting in his chair, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Outside the window the last sunset spilled crimson shadows.


Art: Hieronymus Bosch