> “A story about how peace, when held too tightly, turns into a cage.”
Darkness frightened me.
Anything shaped differently from myself
terrified me beyond reason.
I lived in that space —
where even my own breathing
echoed inside my head.
Each time, I screamed.
“Someone, help me.
Someone — anyone!”
One by one, my friends disappeared
into the dark.
I never knew where they went.
Fear nearly drove me insane.
And then, he appeared.
“I will lead you
to a place of peace.”
His voice gently loosened
the tight strings in my chest.
⸻
He said,
“When you’re apart, it’s dangerous.
Stay together, build a wall.”
So we pressed close,
until even our shadows disappeared,
and followed the light he showed.
That day,
I learned what it meant to sleep without fear.
It felt like a world cut off
from all the terror outside.
⸻
From then on,
we lived as if light had returned to life.
A place to sleep,
days filled with laughter.
But it was all
a fragile façade.
The things beyond the wall —
those not like us —
came again.
We fought.
We survived.
Morning came —
and with it, the same fear returned.
⸻
“I can’t rest like this,” I said.
“Lead us to a better place.”
He smiled faintly.
“I wish I could.
But this body can only guide, not act.”
His body did not move.
He could neither fight nor flee.
I despaired.
⸻
“Then let me be your hands and feet,”
a voice rose.
Several followed.
Hope flickered again.
“We can no longer hunt,” they said.
“Offer us something in return —
a tribute.”
“Of course,” I said.
“That’s easy.”
That tribute
came to be called Duty.
And to gain safety,
we paid it willingly.
Those who couldn’t pay
were covered by others.
“Duty’s everywhere,”
said one who was good at hunting.
⸻
And so we lived.
Supporting the hands and feet,
building armor
against raw life itself.
Comfort became normal.
Fear — a forgotten dream.
We grew proud.
I sought him again.
“We have peace now.
Next, we want prosperity.”
“Then you’ll need more supporters,” he said.
“Ones who move like the joints of fingers.”
The joints were found.
They, too, were given duty.
“Duty’s everywhere.
We’ll manage somehow.”
The joints became “those who enrich.”
Life overflowed with comfort.
We thought it would last forever.
⸻
But desire grows.
Each wish multiplied our duties.
Keepers of order,
builders of quality,
speakers of rules —
they all came.
We once took duties to survive,
but now we survive only to serve them.
We endured,
and demanded reward:
“We give this much —
so we deserve something back.”
We forgot
the wild, simple world we came from.
⸻
Desire piled upon desire.
Duty multiplied.
I reached my limit.
“I must see him again,” I said.
But they answered,
“You can’t.”
“Why?”
“You made too many of us,”
said the first hands and feet.
“He has no time.
You can’t meet him anymore.”
Their eyes were dim.
A chill of endless fear
ran through me.
⸻
“Please,” I begged.
“Take me to him.”
Reluctantly, they agreed.
And I saw him again —
the same figure,
but the light in his eyes
had faded.
⸻
“Paying duty has become too heavy,” I said.
“We can’t find enough anymore.”
He replied softly:
“Duty can’t be reduced.
If it shrinks, someone disappears.
The whole structure would collapse.”
Then, almost in a whisper:
“And even if I speak now,
they can no longer move by my words.
The will that built this world
can’t be undone.
I can only show direction —
carefully, without stirring chaos.
That’s all I can do now.”
His face was tired,
but kind.
⸻
“Then what should we do!?”
I shouted.
“It began for your sake,” he said.
“To make life easier.
But now…
there’s nothing more I can do.”
The world dimmed.
Maybe we’d built
something unforgivable.
In chasing safety,
we’d carved away the earth beneath us.
I closed my eyes —
and heard his voice again.
“I can’t act anymore.
But from your side…
maybe something can change.”
A faint light appeared,
like that first day I met him.
“Can we really change?”
I asked.
He smiled.
“I don’t know.
But that’s for you to decide.”
⸻
Even amid the confusion,
I realized one thing:
We can still think.
We can still ask,
and understand,
and choose again.
Collapse, perhaps,
is the sign of rebirth.
Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 6:06 AM UTC
> “A story about how peace, when held too tightly, turns into a cage.”
Darkness frightened me.
Anything shaped differently from myself
terrified me beyond reason.
I lived in that space —
where even my own breathing
echoed inside my head.
Each time, I screamed.
“Someone, help me.
Someone — anyone!”
One by one, my friends disappeared
into the dark.
I never knew where they went.
Fear nearly drove me insane.
And then, he appeared.
“I will lead you
to a place of peace.”
His voice gently loosened
the tight strings in my chest.
⸻
He said,
“When you’re apart, it’s dangerous.
Stay together, build a wall.”
So we pressed close,
until even our shadows disappeared,
and followed the light he showed.
That day,
I learned what it meant to sleep without fear.
It felt like a world cut off
from all the terror outside.
⸻
From then on,
we lived as if light had returned to life.
A place to sleep,
days filled with laughter.
But it was all
a fragile façade.
The things beyond the wall —
those not like us —
came again.
We fought.
We survived.
Morning came —
and with it, the same fear returned.
⸻
“I can’t rest like this,” I said.
“Lead us to a better place.”
He smiled faintly.
“I wish I could.
But this body can only guide, not act.”
His body did not move.
He could neither fight nor flee.
I despaired.
⸻
“Then let me be your hands and feet,”
a voice rose.
Several followed.
Hope flickered again.
“We can no longer hunt,” they said.
“Offer us something in return —
a tribute.”
“Of course,” I said.
“That’s easy.”
That tribute
came to be called Duty.
And to gain safety,
we paid it willingly.
Those who couldn’t pay
were covered by others.
“Duty’s everywhere,”
said one who was good at hunting.
⸻
And so we lived.
Supporting the hands and feet,
building armor
against raw life itself.
Comfort became normal.
Fear — a forgotten dream.
We grew proud.
I sought him again.
“We have peace now.
Next, we want prosperity.”
“Then you’ll need more supporters,” he said.
“Ones who move like the joints of fingers.”
The joints were found.
They, too, were given duty.
“Duty’s everywhere.
We’ll manage somehow.”
The joints became “those who enrich.”
Life overflowed with comfort.
We thought it would last forever.
⸻
But desire grows.
Each wish multiplied our duties.
Keepers of order,
builders of quality,
speakers of rules —
they all came.
We once took duties to survive,
but now we survive only to serve them.
We endured,
and demanded reward:
“We give this much —
so we deserve something back.”
We forgot
the wild, simple world we came from.
⸻
Desire piled upon desire.
Duty multiplied.
I reached my limit.
“I must see him again,” I said.
But they answered,
“You can’t.”
“Why?”
“You made too many of us,”
said the first hands and feet.
“He has no time.
You can’t meet him anymore.”
Their eyes were dim.
A chill of endless fear
ran through me.
⸻
“Please,” I begged.
“Take me to him.”
Reluctantly, they agreed.
And I saw him again —
the same figure,
but the light in his eyes
had faded.
⸻
“Paying duty has become too heavy,” I said.
“We can’t find enough anymore.”
He replied softly:
“Duty can’t be reduced.
If it shrinks, someone disappears.
The whole structure would collapse.”
Then, almost in a whisper:
“And even if I speak now,
they can no longer move by my words.
The will that built this world
can’t be undone.
I can only show direction —
carefully, without stirring chaos.
That’s all I can do now.”
His face was tired,
but kind.
⸻
“Then what should we do!?”
I shouted.
“It began for your sake,” he said.
“To make life easier.
But now…
there’s nothing more I can do.”
The world dimmed.
Maybe we’d built
something unforgivable.
In chasing safety,
we’d carved away the earth beneath us.
I closed my eyes —
and heard his voice again.
“I can’t act anymore.
But from your side…
maybe something can change.”
A faint light appeared,
like that first day I met him.
“Can we really change?”
I asked.
He smiled.
“I don’t know.
But that’s for you to decide.”
⸻
Even amid the confusion,
I realized one thing:
We can still think.
We can still ask,
and understand,
and choose again.
Collapse, perhaps,
is the sign of rebirth.