They say that the hand's of God can reach to almost anyone , purify it , shap it to his will but for some reason the hands of God never reached for me , but his did .
On a moonless night, a small boy walked toward a forsaken temple his mother once told him to visit when she was gone. He wanted only two things:to see his mother againand to meet the "God" she never stopped talking about.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the world twisted.
The pale moon bled red.An eclipse — one that came only once every fourteen centuries — formed overhead like an omen meant only for him.
Inside, hell celebrated.
Jesters and clowns cackled while slicing each other's throats.Twisted figures performed acts no child should ever witness.Blood rained from black clouds, painting the ground filled with white skulls.
The boy stood frozen, legs trembling, heart pounding like it wanted to escape his chest.
Then the residents of this nightmare saw him.
One by one, every monster fell silent… and stared at him with something he didn't expect:
sorrow.
A dark woman stepped forward. With every slow step, something inside him whispered that he knew her. When she finally stood before him, the memories hit him all at once.
It was his mother — the woman he prayed to God to return to him.
"Is… is that you, Mom?" he asked, voice breaking.
The jesters burst out laughing.
She took his small hands gently and whispered,"You did well, son. Now… close your eyes."
He obeyed.
But he kept hearing his name echoing from everywhere—"Sammael… Sammael… wake the hell up!"
It Was Only a Dream?
My dad's voice dragged me out of sleep, cursing my name like usual. Alarms blared. My stepmother yelled for him to eat breakfast before it got cold.
Same morning hell ever since Mom died in that car accident.
I hated this house. Hated their voices. But saying anything would just get me hit, so I washed my face, dressed in silence, and left for school.
I lit my usual morning cigarette and looked at the sky—not for beauty, but for its calm indifference.
My days in high school were nothing worth mentioning: sleeping through classes, hearing stupid gossip about the student president and the "hottest girl," and going home alone. No friends except my cat. Grades below average. Whatever.
On my way home, I saw a clown laughing with a woman.
My body froze. My knees gave out.
The jester waved at me to ask if I was okay, but my heart hammered faster and faster. Suddenly, the sky went dark in my vision. The moon turned blood-red.
I collapsed.
To calm myself, I repeated the one thing Mom always sang to me — an old myth's chant about the "Lightbringer.""Within the darkness, the light shall rise again…"
My tears fell before I even noticed.
When I woke up, I ran home. These hallucinations had followed me ever since Mom died, but "getting used to it" didn't make it hurt less.
I saw my family through the window, laughing and preparing to go out.Scenes like that never happened when I was around.
To my father, I was a failure.To my stepmother, I was insane.And my brother-in-law, Adam? He hated me. He was my age but "perfect" in my father's eyes.
I smiled bitterly and walked away to smoke at a nearby park.
It was my mother's birthday. She would have been thirty-seven.
I didn't want to go home and "ruin the mood" by reminding them of a woman they'd erased from their lives. They had moved on. I hadn't.
As night came, the stars shone brightly. A rock lay by the roadside.I saw myself in that rock—motionless, useless.My family? They were the free stars.
Depressing, right?
Adam came to find me, saying Dad was pissed and wanted me home.I nodded and started walking beside him.
He wore a smug smirk, so I asked,"Why so happy, Adam?"
He gave me that superior look—like a king talking to a servant."Opposite, actually. Dad scheduled a fancy dinner to honor your mother's death. My condolences, of course. But you skipped it intentionally. Why?"
I laughed."Honor what? He hasn't visited her grave once since marrying your mom. He threw away her pictures. This dinner wasn't for her—it was for him to feel better."
Adam frowned."That's called moving on. Maybe learn from him. And as far as I know, you never visit her grave either. Isn't it hypocritical to be angry?"
"Adam," I said, "moving on is accepting, not running away.I accepted her death—that's why I don't talk about her.But him? He talks about her only when it benefits him.And you? You act like you understand any of my pain. You don't.I don't need a fancy dinner to honor her.And I sure as hell don't need your empathy.
Now shut it till we get home."
Shockingly, he did.
Inside, Dad called me to sit. Calm voice—never a good sign.
"Why didn't you come? Or at least call?" he asked.
I replied,"Mom won't rise from the dead—as you said at her funeral when I cried. And you told me this morning you wouldn't visit her grave with me because you were 'moving on.' So why are you mad?"
Dad exploded. Threw the chair. Kicked the floor. Grabbed me like an animal.
"How could you think I forgot her?! That hell of a woman ruined my life! I remember her every time I see your eyes! I wish both of you died that day!"
I laughed."That's how you honor the dead? , no wonder she died "
He dropped me."You're not my son. Everything I own belongs to Adam now. Don't talk to me again."
He stormed off with his wife.
Adam looked at me with pity.A look that I'll never forget.
I stayed on the floor, numb.Time passed—I didn't know how much. Didn't care.
Finally, I took my father's gun and walked to the park.
Truth is, I never found the meaning of life. Never had sex, never had a lover, never saw that proud look from my father.
What was the point?
I drank stolen beer, smoked slowly, and waited for the cigarette to burn out.When its light died, I planned to follow.
I pressed the gun to my head—
—but a cat ran past, startling me.The bullet tore through my left chest instead.
Not enough to kill instantly—just enough to make me suffer for ten miserable minutes.
"My father, mother, and Adam were right," I sobbed."I'm a failure.If God exists, WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP SUFFERING UNTIL MY LAST BREATH?!"
I screamed, cried, cursed everything.
Then a presence appeared.
A tall figure stood over me — angelic silhouette, moonlight hair, black eyes that pierced through my soul.
He laughed hysterically.
"I wouldn't call this a dramatic death," he said, "but certainly a memorable one. Tell me, son of Lilith… do you want me to change your destiny?"