This story is a very brief outline of my youth, and it is the crux of what most youth face today. It is the sincere hope of this sinful writer that this piece, in being an inspiration and eye opener, will be a means of the expiation of his sins.
He stooped in front of the tunnel entrance and took a deep breath. A sweet smell lazily wafted out. He bent his head down and could hear faint, soft chimes - the different sounds mingling into each other, producing a beautiful rhythm. Oh, so enticing!! He was tempted to venture into the yawning mouth of the tunnel to investigate the source of these wonderful fragrances and sounds. As he got on to all fours and proceeded to crawl through, his conscience screamed at him, "Hey, don't you remember - curiousity killed the cat!" He stopped - unwary - indecisively unsure of what to do. Just then, he again felt a cool breeze softly caressing his face, carrying with it that same sweet smell. He couldn't hold himself back and chose to ignore the clear warning. He crawled on, his head brushing the low roof.
Suddenly, everything went pitch dark. He frantically turned his head around and realised to his utter dismay that the mouth had been sealed shut. He fumbled in his pocket for his torch, and flicked the switch on. The dim, weak glow could hardly filter through the layers of gloomy darkness - wave upon wave upon wave. The breeze stopped just as suddenly as it had started. Now he could feel increasing warmth which developed into searing heat. The sweet chimes were replaced by a deafening silence that blanketed and enshrouded him. He started trembling and shivering. A feeling of utter fear and paranoia gripped his every vein and nerve.
He sensed a light ahead. He raised his head to look, and saw two glowing figures. His fright lifted off and a hypnotic calmness enveloped and engulfed him. As they neared, he could discern their features, and he was left breathless. The one on the right was a golden blonde in a silver catsuit, with a killer figure. The one on the left - a brunette, dressed to kill, a real head turner. They beckoned to him tantalisingly. As if in a hypnotic trance, he crawled towards them, his eyes watermelons. Saliva dripping from his mouth, he reached out, almost about to make hand contact.
All of a sudden, an unseen hand seemingly pulled out the outer skin of the two beauties - as if removing their costumes - revealing the hidden identity of the two figures. He flinched violently at the revolting, horrifying sight. The one on the right was the devil in his proverbial appearance - a body of flame, horns, blood shot eyes, and fangs dripping with blood. The one on the left proved to be the inner carnal self - slimy, sluggish, and dripping with green goo.
He felt something pulling at his collar. Then, a blinding flash of light flickered, and he felt himself being rocketed upwards, and then landing on a soft surface. He slowly opened his eyes, his heart still thumping wildly. A comforting sight met his eyes. He was in a long spacious room, fully lighted, sitting on a plush Belgian carpet. Relief swept through his body as he realized that he had been saved from impending doom and destruction by the sheer mercy of Allah the Almighty. He saw ahead of him a clear, straight path cut out for him, and he advanced forward, well aware that he was heading towards eternal success.
As he walked on, he noticed sinister shadows appearing on both sides of the path. In those shadows he saw the same two girls beckoning to him. A chill pulsed down his spine, and he quickly averted his gaze, increasing his walking pace. He knew they were phony. It was just another trap. The shadows continued to appear, and his gaze kept sneaking off towards them. A seemingly unseen force made him change his direction, and he approached the shadows. His conscience's screams of rebuke went unheeded once again. Just as he stepped into the shadow, he realized that it wasn't a shadow at all, but a huge dark gaping hole, leading back to the same tunnel he had been saved from!! He fell, but caught hold of the sides of the opening with his fingers. There he hung, his legs swinging to and fro. His fingers spasmed with pain, but he held on for dear life. Just as he thought that his fingers would break, he heard someone call out to him, "Arif! Here, hold on to my hand - I'll pull you out!" The voice - firm, yet calming, soothing, and reassuring - reverberated and echoed from the sides of the hole. He readily and thankfully placed his hand in the firm grip. An indescribable feeling of pure ecstasy washed over him as he thought to himself, "It isn't all over, there is still hope."
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