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Johnny woke up with sweat and blood stains all over his bed sheets. He didn’t know what happened. He couldn’t remember the last night events. He didn’t know nothing. He could smell cat piss, half-filled wine bottles and burnt carpet in his room. Nothing added up. Seemed as if a tornado went through his place.

Johnny got up. Took a caustic-yellow piss, made coffee and lit a fag in his balcony. He had his purple, rounded, crimmed shades on. He stared in the open skies and looked through miles. He took a sip and inhaled, then let out a grey cloud in the open air. He tried to put his thoughts together as the clock hit 16:53. A feeling of sorrow, numbness, grief and tranquility ran through his veins. He felt good. He felt safe. Everything seemed in its place but still nothing felt the same.

He opened the fridge and found nothing but oat milk and an apple cider. Johnny took a shower, shaved and put on denim blue jeans and a white shirt. He took a stroll in his neighbourhood. Sunny day with a decent wind. He stopped at a fruit shop and looked at all the items, fervently. Grapes, melons, watermelons, apples, pulp, apricots, sapodilla laid on the stall as a woman with her legs opened. Unitentionally inviting. He bought a bunch of the fuits, paid the amount and off he went on the unpaved streets.

On the way back to his apartment, he saw an old man. He stood in the middle of the street and was ranting loudly. Some people stared while others avoided eye contact. Johnny was uncomfortable and curious at the same time. He gave an ear to the old man and heard him say: THERE IS NO GOD. THERE IS NO I. WE ARE ALL ONE. THERE IS NO GOD. The dude wore a black cloth. Old, filthy and rotten clothing. Dreads for hair and not showered in years. Curly white beard with knots and purple dye on the left-side of the beard. He wore a strange conehead cap, with horns, drawing of stars and velvet sky. Johnny felt being nice and offered an apple to the mystic. The Old man looked at Johnny in the eyes, took the fruit and touched him on the forehead with his index and middle finger. Johnny boy fell on the street and the fruits dropped from his hands like rubies on the dancefloor.

He opened his eyes and found himself in a snowfall. There was snow for miles with scanty trees and shrubs. Everything was covered in snow. He didn’t know if this real or just a dream. He pinched himself, he felt pain. He picked up the snow and ate it. It was cold and tasted awful. He still didn’t know if this was real or fake. Nothing was making sense. Johnny walked. He walked for miles on miles. Took refuge under a rock from the blistering cold. But he continued to walk. All he found was a carpet of snow. The sun barely showed his face. A huge rocky mountain appeared in amidst of the path. There was no where to go but to climb the damn mountain. Johnny started to climb, one limb at a time.

Something stranger started to happen as he made his way to the top. He started to have a dream within a dream. It was as if his past life was playing in front of him. All the whores he raped, the drugs he ingested, the wild sex parties, bank robberies, lying in court, beating girl-friends and all the violence and pain started to play in front of him. It was as if a theatre poised on an empty stage. Johnny felt sick and cold. He felt weak in his bones. Then a group of man in white robes carried him effervescently. It seemed as if the dudes had wings and flew him to the top of the peak.

Johnny felt abit better and saw the group of lads praising, reading, kissing, and worshipping a stone. He didn’t know what to make of it. Then Johnny made his way to the stone and read a message:

TO ALL THE MORTAL MAN.

TO ALL THE MILLENIALS.

TO ALL THE YOUTH.

TO ALL THE CHILDREN OF ADAM.

REMEMBER THUS MESSAGE.

STAY AWAY FROM THE SEVEN SINS:

  1. PORNOGRAPHIA

  2. VIDEO GAMES

  3. GAMBLING

  4. STRIPPERS

  5. DRUGS

  6. SWINE

  7. NECROMANCY

PROTECT WHAT IS MADE SACRED IN THE SOUL.

Johnny woke up in a hospital with tubes stuck in his nostrils, veins and buttcheeks. He, frantically, started to take out the tubes but the nurse came rushing to him and tried to calm him down. She told him that he hit his head on the street pavement, badly, and was in a coma for two days. Johnny then asked about the old man. But there was no record or recollection of such an entity. Johnny boy wanted to ask for a fag but he negated the thought and stared through a window. He looked at the blue sky, the tree branches and a yellow bird that sang a Miles Davis tune.