I woke up on cold ground.
The sky above me was red, like night had been burned. The grass around me was medium height, moving gently. I could see the wind touching it.
But I could not hear anything.
No wind.
No footsteps.
Not even my own breathing.
The silence was unnatural.
I had no memory of how I came there.
Then people began to appear.
One by one, every person I had ever seen in my life started walking into the field. They were calm. Relaxed. Smiling. Acting like they had come for a vacation.
Some of them spoke to me — the ones I used to see often. My classmates. They talked normally, like nothing was strange.
Mountains surrounded the place. Between them were small open grounds. And far away, I saw a cave.
It was closed.
Around the cave, there was no grass. Not even a single blade.
Something about it felt wrong.
Suddenly, the ground shifted. The flat land slowly turned into a valley. A monastery rose from the earth as if it had always been there. Monks walked peacefully, speaking to the people.
Everything looked calm.
Too calm.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
When I opened them, I was lying in my mother's lap. My family sat around me in a room.
For a moment, I felt safe.
Then I noticed carvings on the walls. Symbols. Buddhist patterns.
A monk stood near my parents.
He was wearing red.
Not orange like the others.
Red.
He was watching.
I went outside.
There was no one.
Only a few notorious boys from my class stood down the valley. They looked at me and smiled.
I walked toward them.
Suddenly, they pushed me toward the direction of the cave.
I didn't fall inside. I didn't even touch it.
But when I got close, my mind filled with flashes.
Black.
Dark blue.
Broken images.
Run.
Run.
Run.
I ran.
From the front of the monastery, there were stairs. From the back, there was a slanted path. I ran down the slanted path. The boys ran from the stairs.
There was still no sound.
As I ran, I saw a group of red monks standing together. One of them looked like their leader. They were talking, but I couldn't hear anything.
When they looked at me, their eyes slowly turned red.
Something inside me told me they were doing something wrong.
I ran back to my family.
"Please go," I tried to say. "This is not a good place."
They looked at me normally. Confused. Calm.
Like nothing was happening.
The red monk approached them.
And everything broke.
I woke up again.
I closed my eyes tightly, hoping this time I would wake somewhere safe.
When I opened them, I was lying in a small pond of skulls.
Dry skulls.
Some covered in blood.
My hands were gone.
My legs were gone.
The pain was real.
But worse than the physical pain was what was happening inside my mind.
Every beautiful memory of my life twisted into something cruel.
My family smiling — turned into them tearing me apart.
Laughter — became screams.
Love — became hunger.
The more I remembered, the worse it became.
I could not escape.
I could not die.
I could only feel.
Pain.
"Pain was a beauty that I was avoiding."