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The Iron wall&nbsp; It was just a dream, or so he believed. His eyes burned like if they were smitten with holy light, he could feel as if stone knives punctured his skin and flesh. He coughed and after he opened his eyes. Above him was a sky covered by a blanket of grey, the air was cold and flooded by lifeless mist, the ground felt <a id="_Int_SQ1WBc27"></a>similar to sharpened stone. The man rose slowly and looked at the ground, it was composed by many stones like thick knives, his blood bathed the ground yet he barely felt pain. He looked at his surroundings, nothing but sharp stone and mist surrounded him, a cold feeling drowned his mind for an instant only for it to disappear shortly after. He looked to all directions, yet he saw nothing, and so he began walking with no direction no purpose. The sharp stones cut his feet mercilessly until they became nothing more than two lumps of flesh and bone, nevertheless he kept walking without flinching. His thoughts where like the plains he was rambling through, not a question nor answer existed, his predicament was an absolute fact. Soon the man spotted a shadow in the mist, it was massive, and it extended over the horizon. The man accelerated his stride towards the massive shadow, ignoring the stones further shredding his feet. The lumps of flesh he used to walk soon stopped working and the man fell onto the splintered ground. The knife-like rocks buried deep within his flesh, he let out a groan as he felt his life leaking through his wounds. The cold air embraced him, the mist entered his body, he felt the cold flooding his existence. He woke up and looked at the sky, it remained the same, he could still feel the stones stabbing his back and cold air drowning his lungs. The man rose as his expression was in awe of what he was witnessing. In front of him there was a massive iron wall, its surface was uniform and perfect, yet it showed an opaque color. The wall stood as tall as the skies and spanned as far as the eye could see, its presence was intimidating, like the wall itself deserved respect for existing. The man stood in awe, his body refused to move, his arms and legs lightly trembled, his chest retracted and took all the air out of his lungs. His thoughts could only focus on the great wall, yet his mind became clear. Memories of a past he couldn’t understand shook his thoughts, he grabbed his head and stood back, tears flowed from his eyes like cold rivers in a tundra. The man desperately held his head, praying for these memories to cease, but his head didn’t listen. His vision became blurry, he wiped his tears as much as he could and raised his head to face the wall again, yet the wall wasn’t there anymore. A massive plain covered by tall grass stood in front of him, among them a white figure was standing like another blade of grass. The man reached out to the figure but after blinking once the wall reappeared, it’s massive figure towering over him as if it were looking down at a grain of sand. With tears flowing from his eyes the man raised his fist and hit the iron wall, his bones cracked as soon as his fist landed on the colossal barrier. He backed down just to throw another hit with his other hand, his bones shattered, and blood soon emerged from his wounds. The man ignored his wounds and started punching the wall relentlessly, his fists had broken bones poking out of bleeding wounds, even so he kept hitting the wall without stop. Soon his hands where nothing more than red past clinging to his arms, the man started screaming as his clumps of flesh hit the wall. A great red stain marked the immaculate bastion of iron, and the man kept hitting until the bones from his arms broke from the unrelenting strikes. The man stopped his incessant barrage and stood in silence; his head was flooding with memories of the white figure. He remembered being held by it, how the figure took care of the wounds from his past, the memory of its warmth and embrace. The man cried, and with his heart flooded by grief he struck the wall again, and again, and again, until his forearms became nothing more than shredded flesh and broken bone. He fell to his knees, sharp stones buried themselves on his legs. He looked at his arms, he didn’t feel pain, yet he felt something, a feeling that made him wish to feel pain. The man screamed at the top of his lungs, he screamed in horror of what he did to himself, he screamed with tears flooding his eyes and snot clogging his throat, he screamed wishing for mercy. He screamed at the wall imploring for an answer, the wall stood silent in its immensity. The man kept screaming, calling for the figure to appear before him, but nothing more than silent memories was present. His screaming soon ceased, silence claimed the air around him, he raised his broken arm and wiped his tears. After wiping his tears, he realized his hands had recovered their original form, they were covered with massive scars that illustrated his mistreatment. The man raised his head and looked at the wall once again, under the crimson stains there was a small dent. The man rose, raised his guard and began hitting the great wall once again. This time pain was present, but he didn’t mind it, soon his fists were covered in blood and broken bone once again. Nevertheless, his determination remained unbroken, he landed every hit on the small dent. The pain grew and so did his resolve, his fists were paste once again and his feet became shredded lumps of meat. He stopped and closed his eyes, he thought about the white figure, he remembered her embrace, her voice, her love, he remembered her. After opening his eyes, he saw his fists again covered in scars, he raised his guard and continued his frenetic onslaught. He struck again and again; the sight of live flesh didn’t scare him anymore. The dent grew after each hit, and so did the pain, warm tears flowed form his eyes. The iron bent and let out screeching noises, the man continued his onslaught ignoring his destroyed body. Soon the wall let out a scream of bending iron as the man’s forearm bones hit it, the man stood silent for a moment before pulling his shattered arm from the great wall. Crimson liquid dripped from the spikes of bent metal, the wall stood tall and imperfect. There now was a hole in the great wall, a hole from which light emerged. The light was warm and tender with the white and yellow color of a bright morning, with it came a song with no structure, a song that lacked both instruments and notes. The man walked towards the light and peeked through the hole; he could barely breathe while admiring what was behind the wall. A field of green grass that extended as far as he could see, and not too far there was a figure in a black dress sitting among the greenery. The man yelled and called out for help, but the figure sat silent and didn’t react to his pleads. The man tried to reach through the hole, yet as soon as his hand went through he felt a hard and cold surface. He took his hand out of the hole and peeked again, the landscape disappeared, there only stood another iron wall. His eyes were filled with despair and dread, his expression was hollow, the determination he once had, had vanished. Without thinking the man turned around and walked away from the iron bastion, the sharp rocks cut his feet and he left a red path as he lost himself in the fog once again. He whispered prayers as he walked pointlessly. The skies were as gray as the sharp stones that covered the ground of the endless plains, there was no wind to move the mist away, the air was cold and light, the only sound present was the noise from the man’s steps. He walked for hours, days, weeks, months… years. He often asked himself how was he still alive but no answer would ever be reached. Time kept flowing undisturbed, it had been seventeen years and the man kept walking aimlessly. Nevertheless, he remained praying under his breath, getting up every time he fell, walking forward into nothingness. He prayed for all of this to be a dream, he walked while praying to wake up, he got up waiting for the endless path to end. He walked, he prayed, he fell, he got up, he prayed and he walked again. Little by little the air warmed up, the light from the gray sky illuminated the man’s path, he raised his head and looked forward. The great wall stood in front of him once more, the man looked at it without emotion. He didn’t stop walking and closed his eyes, his body and the wall touched and for a moment they where one. A warm feeling filled the man’s spirit, he could feel how the warm light of the afternoon embraced him. With his eyes closed he marched on, his feet soon felt the touch of fresh grass and his skin the refreshing breeze. The man walked while the light kindly hugged him, his eyes remained closed, he prayed to never wake up again.

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The iron wall

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The iron wall

Antariel

Antares Ariel Ciarlo Zosi (aka: Antariel Ciarlo Zosi)

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The iron wall

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Antares Ariel Ciarlo Zosi

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