The howling night
They lived in the castle, and even believed it belonged to them.
But they did not yet know all of its secrets…
They wandered through its halls, back and forth, always marveling at its overwhelming beauty.
But they never imagined what the future held.
Until one day, the castle awoke.
And all its weapons came to life.
It was in that moment they realized—it was already too late.
The castle had never belonged to them.
But from now on, they would belong forever to the castle.
A step into the unseen
I was sleeping deeply when I heard my dogs barking. Startled, I woke up and listened. Then I heard something else—the front door opening. My heart started racing. I got up quietly, ready to confront whoever was coming in. I stayed still, waiting to catch the intruder by surprise.
A short man stepped inside. It was too dark to see his face. I clenched my fists, ready to throw a punch—but suddenly, I woke up.
Or so I thought.
Everything felt… off. The room looked like mine, but slightly wrong. I got out of bed and walked into the hallway. It was my home, but the longer I walked, the stranger it got. Door after door after door—until I reached one that led to complete blackness.
Pitch dark. A void.
But something about it felt familiar. I’d been here before, I was sure of it. So I took a breath and stepped in.
The darkness swallowed me whole.
I kept walking, but the ground felt like it vanished. I began to float, or maybe swim—it felt like diving into a deep, endless ocean. Above me, the ceiling shimmered like water, and I tried to surface, but something pulled me down, kept me from rising.
So I swam. And swam. And swam.
Then I saw it.
A massive creature—like a squid, but twisted, demonic. It had four glowing eyes and an aura of dread. As I got closer, it launched fireballs at me.
But I wasn’t powerless.
With my right hand, I hurled fireballs back at it. With my left, I summoned lightning bolts that cracked through the darkness. The battle was fierce, but I struck the final blow. The creature exploded like something out of a video game, bursting into glowing cards that scattered and vanished into the void.
The path ahead opened.
And I followed it.
The Pact with Tractor Torturer
The four ninjas walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps swallowed by the dark corridors that led to the chamber of Tractor Torturer. He was a giant of legend — feared, brutal, and impossible to ignore. They had struck a deal with him. Not good, not bad. Just… a deal. A means to an end. Something that would move their mission forward, despite the risk. Despite his terrible fame.
Among the four, there was one — a man whose thoughts rarely aligned with logic. A bit slow, often clueless, but always unpredictable. And that made him dangerous. He had a plan, one he hadn’t shared with anyone. While the others negotiated, he scanned the room and saw the massive chains embedded in the stone wall — chains meant to bind even the strongest.
A thought slithered into his mind: What if I lured Tractor Torturer near the wall? What if I chained him up? What if I ended him right here?
So he tried. He acted alone. Recklessly.
The moment came. Tractor Torturer, amused and unaware, was drawn toward the wall. The ninja moved to strike — but froze. As if his courage was nothing more than a whisper in the face of the storm.
It was then the leader stepped forward.
No hesitation.
He launched a brutal punch straight to the idiot’s face — then another, and another. It wasn’t rage. It was survival. He had to act fast, show submission, punish the fool before Tractor Torturer did something far worse.
The punches landed like thunder.
And when Tractor Torturer finally chuckled — pleased by the display — the leader stopped. Blood dripped. Silence returned.
The pact was still alive.
But trust among the ninjas?
That was starting to break.
Echos from the other side of the crash
It was a very cold and rainy night, and the streets were as slippery as soap. I was driving when my car began to skid. I stopped accelerating, trying to regain control, but the car kept sliding, swerving from one side of the street to the other. I saw an electric fence nearby and panicked, afraid the car might crash into it. But it kept sliding further down the road.
Then, I saw the end of the street—just ahead was a steep precipice, maybe 20 meters high. The car didn’t stop. We went over the edge and fell.
After the impact, I checked myself—I was okay. I got out of the car, and two men approached me. One of them asked, “Are you alive?”
I replied, “Seems so.”
I walked toward a nearby mansion as a single-engine plane passed overhead. Outside, I saw a man and his wife who looked like newlyweds. I went inside the mansion, and there was another man about to take his dog for a walk. But this was no ordinary dog—it was a monster. I watched as he fed it what looked like a fresh human femur.
A Moment in Heaven
I was in Heaven, drifting through the light,
when I encountered a book —
a holy book, suspended in the sky.
Drawn by its radiance, I floated closer,
my breath caught in awe at its perfection.
I tried to read…
but the words blurred like smoke,
just out of reach,
as if they were meant for eyes beyond my knowing.
Page after page, I turned,
desperate to find a single truth I could hold.
But nothing.
Then—darkness.
The light began to fade.
I was being pulled away.
I realized then:
God was removing me from the book’s presence.
And so I cried out,
“Please, God…
Let me stay a moment more.
Don’t take me yet.
I need to find something.”
And in mercy, He granted it.
Time stood still.
And within that breath of grace,
I saw it—
my word.
The Language of the life
I woke… or perhaps I crossed a veil.
The stillness whispers, but not in silence.
My room… my bed… the hour is early —
Yet the light… the light is speaking.
Not in sound,
but in sacred shapes that dance upon the walls.
Sanskrit?
Names of the Divine, carved in sunbeams,
as if heaven itself were spilling secrets into my space.
Could this be what Patanjali saw —
that Yoga is not merely posture,
nor breath, nor thought,
but the golden thread that weaves through all?
Everything…
Everything is Yoga.
The Rise of Apocalypse
There was a man—a real monster—chasing me. I don’t know what he wanted. Maybe it was revenge. Maybe it was just chaos.
He caught me. And when he did, he started hitting me violently, over and over. But his punches? Weak. Pathetic.
They landed with fury but did nothing. My body refused to break.
Frustrated, he threw me down and jumped in his car. Tires screeched, engine roared. He circled me like a vulture, then drove straight into me.
Crash after crash—metal, flesh, fury—but I still didn’t die.
That’s when he tied a rope around me. Started dragging me behind his car, flying down the road like a demon, the pavement shredding around me.
And that’s when I saw it.
A helmet. Lying in the dirt. Old. Heavy. Massive. It looked like something out of a nightmare—ancient, armored, like the one Apocalypse wore in the X-Men comics.
He laughed—actually laughed—and aimed the car straight at it.
He wanted to slam my head into the helmet so hard that it would snap my skull and end it all.
But when my head hit the helmet…
It didn’t kill me.
It changed me.
The metal didn’t break me—it chose me. It fused with me. And in that moment, I understood:
That was how I became Apocalypse.
When Death Failed
I found myself in a strange, unfamiliar place—cold, dark, and dead quiet. The kind of silence that makes your skin crawl.
Then, out of the shadows, Death emerged. Tall, cloaked in black, with hollow eyes that seemed to stare straight through me. She stepped forward, voice like a storm rolling in:
“Your time has come, and I shall kill you.”
Without hesitation, she attacked violently, swinging her massive scythe with all the force of a thousand dying screams. The blade screamed through the air and slammed into me like a freight train.
But it didn’t cut.
My skin absorbed the blow—like steel wrapped in flesh. It was like she had tried to stab granite with a fork. The weapon clanged off me, useless.
I looked up, breathing heavy, and something primal took over.
“Fuck you! I’ll kill you!” I roared.
I drove my fist straight into Death’s face. The impact cracked through the silence, and she reeled back, unbalanced. I didn’t wait—I ran, searching the ruined landscape like a madman.
Then I saw it: an old rusted pipe, jagged at the end, stained by time and blood. I snatched it up, feeling its weight, and sprinted back, ready to finish the fight.
But Death was gone.
She ran.
She ran from me.
