The Man, his Car and his luggages

The man had luggages and a car.

In the middle of an empty little village, with multiple houses, but nobody was living in them.

Not a single child to be careful about on the road.

Not a single dog that could try and catch a thrown ball on the road.

The man was all alone.

He had luggages to bring to the other side of this little village.

A single plate, a television, a basketball hoop, a surfboard, and a random little lamp.

And none of them were in any sort of packaging.

The man could for sure buy some cardboard or at least some thing to make sure these items would stay on the car while he drove.

The man had all the time in the world to make sure everything would go as planned, but he didn't want to.

He was sure everything would go as planned.

The man had the idea to just put his things on the car and hope they would stay on it as he would drive around the multiple roadholes, the infinite construction sites, a destroyed car in the middle of his path, as he would go through shortcuts, drive on sidewalks to gain some useless time, dodge oncoming trains.

The man had his ideas and no one would be able to take them away from his natural but dangerous mind, not even the man's best friend, not even the man's loving wife, not even the children he spent years raising, not even the dog from across the street trying to catch the thrown ball.

The man was alone ?

He was.

The voices were in his head.

They were not real.

They were not trying to help him.

The man started the engine of his car and started driving.

The television fell.

The single plate fell.

The basketball hoop fell.

The surfboard fell.

The random little lamp stayed.

He chose not to hear them fall, just as he chose not to hear the voices.

The only thing he heard was silence, as he didn't use the car's break while it was rapidly approching the tree.

The man's car collided with the tree, shattering the silence and shattering his hopes of a carefree journey. Broken glass littered the ground, mingling with twisted metal and shattered dreams. The random little lamp, his only surviving possession, lay broken and defeated amidst the wreckage.

Stunned and disoriented, the man slowly emerged from the twisted metal prison that was once his car. Reality crashed down upon him like a tidal wave, flooding his mind with regret. The voices he had so callously ignored, the concerns of his loved ones, all echoed in his ears like a haunting chorus. He had been blind to the consequences of his actions, focused solely on his own desires.

As he surveyed the wreckage, the desolation of the empty village houses mirrored the emptiness he felt inside. The absence of life, the absence of laughter—it was a stark reminder of the isolation he had chosen. He had pushed away those who cared for him, rejecting their advice and warnings, only to find himself alone amidst the wreckage of his recklessness.

But just as despair threatened to consume him, a glimmer of hope emerged. Footsteps approached, breaking the suffocating silence. A group of villagers, drawn by the sound of the crash, rushed to his aid. Concern etched upon their faces, they offered him a helping hand and words of comfort. It was a stark contrast to the silence he had chosen, a reminder of the humanity he had forsaken.

Slowly, the man began to comprehend the value of human connection. He saw the foolishness of his solitary existence and the dangers it had brought upon him. The kindness and compassion of the villagers reached a dormant part of his soul—a longing for community, for companionship.

With their help, the man salvaged what he could from the wreckage. They gathered the broken fragments of his belongings, their hands moving swiftly, efficiently, unlike his haphazard packing. They wrapped the items carefully, protecting them from further damage, ensuring their safe transport.

As the man bid farewell to the forsaken village, he carried with him the weight of his mistakes and a newfound appreciation for the power of human connection. The road ahead was uncertain, but he vowed to rebuild his life with the support and guidance of others. He understood that he didn't have to face the challenges alone, that the voices in his head were pale imitations of genuine human interaction.

In the weeks that followed, the man immersed himself in the vibrant village community. He sought forgiveness from his loved ones, acknowledging the recklessness that had driven a wedge between them. Together, they worked tirelessly to mend the broken bonds, to rebuild the trust that had been shattered.

The man absorbed the wisdom of the villagers, learning the importance of careful planning and consideration. He realized that taking shortcuts and dismissing the advice of others often led to disaster. Their collective knowledge became his compass, guiding him away from treacherous paths.

And slowly, like a forgotten garden resurrected by gentle rains, the village came back to life. The once-empty houses found new inhabitants, their windows filled with the warm glow of laughter and love. Children played on the streets, dogs chased balls with exuberance, and the man's own faithful canine became a cherished member of the community.

The man never forgot the lessons he had learned, the mistakes that had brought him to the edge of ruin. He carried with him the scars of his journey, a constant reminder of the dangers of isolation. With gratitude in his heart, he embraced the vibrant tapestry of village life, forever changed by his odyssey from loneliness to connection.

As he basked in the joy of newfound camaraderie, the man made a silent vow to himself. He promised to cherish the warmth of human interaction, to listen to the voices.

The end.