It was dark. A tall, hooded person walked along the path, soaked by the

                                                 rain that the gods had now been sending down on them for a full week.

                                             He saw nothing of his surroundings, he just kept walking. He had no

                                        idea where he was going, nor did he care. He had abandoned his only life and

                                wished to start all over again. The easiest way was to just die, but he didn't know what

would happen after that.

Maybe there was a new life after this one. Or maybe he would even become a ghost, or a spirit, or an

angel, or even a demon. Or, there might not be anything at all.

He did not fear death. But he did fear dying. It was the uncertainty of it all that scared him; uncertainties

like what was after it, and if it would hurt. Not that he feared pain; he had been in pain his entire life.

Mental pain, and, added up to each other, about half of his life so far, physic pain.

He had seen death, caused death, and had almost been dead.

But he was still here, and he was still walking away from his old life. When he had left, he just took his

dagger and all the money he had, pulled on his cloak, and walked out of his house, out of the city.

He had a reputation back there. He had liked it, it had helped him a lot, but now, he didn't care about his

reputation any more.

He just wanted to get away, away from this world, if possible. Of course, that was just a big dream. After

all, there was no way to get to another world. Not as far as he knew, at least. A rich looking carriage came

by, but the hooded figure just kept walking. As the carriage came rocking by, it soaked him even more.

Now he was not only wet, but also covered in mud. For a moment he longed for his comfortable, warm bed,

but he quickly pushed that thought away. He couldn't go back there, he had to be strong. No one would care

about him. The whores would probably be disappointed, for he was sure to bring them a lot of income, but

no one else would probably even spare him a thought. Maybe he would cross someone's mind accidentally,

but surely he would be gone from it again instantly.

He noticed an empty feeling in his stomach. But there was no food around, no village, no town, not even a

farm. It was just a vast, deserted landscape, with no house for as far as the eye could see.

He quietly walked along for several hours, thinking of his past life, life itself, death, and many other things.

But then, suddenly, he collapsed onto the muddy road, where he lay motionless. A passing bird looked at

him for a moment, thought the man was probably dead, and flew on, not giving the stranger a second

thought.

Written by Nathalie van Basten Batenburg