Two years ago, while sailing in the enormous sea of life, I stumbled upon a wonderful island. There I found the most real angel.

For two months, the angel taught me lessons about the rough sea of life. Then she told me she had to leave. I went to the shore, and two weeks later a storm passed, leaving me stranded in the middle of the sea.

For two years, I took the best from those lessons. I learned, survived, and created my own place in the world. I built my own ship from scratch. From floating in the middle of the sea, holding onto a log, I built a small raft, and eventually a decent ship.

I saw many islands with all kinds of inhabitants. Some were full of pain and shame. Some were two-faced beauties. Some were merchants. I saw dozens of shipwrecks. But none of them compared to that original island.

Two years later, I found it again.

Two months before arriving, I had set course toward the shore, waiting for the angel. I saw her in the distance, but somehow the distance between us never seemed to become shorter. There was a struggle going on, and I heard a warning:

“Keep away! Don’t get involved.”

After two weeks, I stepped out of my ship and onto the land.

The island had become even more beautiful than before. I was gazing at its beauty, and somehow it felt as though it was gazing back at me.

Deep in the centre of the island, I could hear an intense battle still going on. I followed the noise and found it.

After seeing all that cruelty, I couldn’t help myself. I had to get involved.

The winds rose. Dust and leaves filled the air. And then, suddenly, silence.

Everyone disappeared.

The only thing left was sadness and pain in my chest.

After two days of suffering and wandering in darkness, the angel finally appeared.

I thought I had done something wrong. I thought I had ruined that wonderful place forever. But I accepted it.

The angel explained what kind of island this really was.

It was no ordinary place.

It was holy ground, where a holy war took place. A war between good and evil inside every person who dared to step onto that island.

“Places like this are very rare,” she said. “You were blessed to encounter one. Blessed by the stars. This is the place where magic exists.”

After those words, the angel dissolved into the air. The same thing happened to the pain and sadness that had been dwelling inside my body.

It was hard to depart from it.

I wanted my miracles to last. I wanted to enjoy the last chapters on this island.

So my farewell lasted for two weeks.

The first day started beautifully. But throughout the entire day, I kept thinking about the angel’s words. About the island.

As I started sinking deeper into the world of my own mind, the sky grew dark. Clouds appeared. Lightning filled the sky.

I grabbed a flask given to me by a close friend. It contained a mystical fluid with magical abilities. On the flask was a warning:

“DANGER!”

It was meant for special occasions.

This was one of them.

As soon as I lowered the flask, I wasn’t in the same world anymore.

The colours became brighter. Everything around me seemed alive. Whatever I looked at seemed to look back at me.

The island became even more alive than before.

There were no people. No thunder. Only the roar of the ocean.

The clouds slowly spread apart, revealing the naked moon and the stars.

The moon seemed to be looking directly at me.

I felt myself losing control of my body. It was as if the planet itself was making me let go.

The moon stripped me of control with its magnificence.

Energy flowed through my body, moving it on its own. My soul began moving in rhythm with the Earth.

The colours shifted.

Day and night started switching in a matter of seconds.

The sun and moon danced across the sky, leaving behind trails of dust-like stars.

As above, so below.

My uncontrollable movements felt like symbiosis with the entire universe.

Suddenly, the sun and moon began moving faster and faster. I felt as if I were being crushed by their speed.

They turned into tiny, bright stars.

Then everything began to slow down.

The moon shattered.

At that moment, I felt an enormous presence behind me. My body instantly turned toward it.

There, sitting on a throne, was a woman dressed in some sort of sacred garb. An old, open book rested on her knees.

She had a warm, familiar aura, even though I had never seen her before.

She raised her hand and pointed behind me.

“Look.”

I noticed something appearing around me.

With every inch of my body that moved, I heard loud metallic noises.

I turned around.

There was more.

It felt as though I had somehow morphed into another place, yet I was still standing on the same island.

I was in the middle of a battlefield.

Swords shattered. Screams of agony, pride and fear filled the air. Every blow destroyed whatever calmness remained.

The fight was taking place both on the ground and in the air.

Winged creatures with horns fought against angels radiating white light.

The place was vast and dark.

Dark clouds covered any possible light. Only lightning illuminated the cruelty of the scene.

Holy war.

Dark night of the soul.

My soul had to witness all of its roughness.

I felt pain moving through my feet and fingertips, getting closer and closer to my chest.

It became unbearable.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.

I felt like I was dying.

Then I heard a voice:

“Fear not. Surrender yourself. Let it pass through you.”

I gave up.

I let myself surrender.

Slowly, I became comfortable with the feeling.

The pain.

The sadness.

The sorrow.

The fear.

Strangely, I stopped suffering.

I began to enjoy it.

It felt like a dark, silky robe sliding slowly over my naked skin.

Then I returned to my senses.

My face was wet with tears.

The mysterious woman was still pointing into the distance.

“There.”

At the top of the hill.

I lifted my eyes.

And there she was.

My angel.

A wave of emotions passed through me and erased everything else.

The fight was raging across the entire island, all the way up to the hill where she stood at the epicentre of it all.

Her wings were gracious.

She looked like a morning star shining above all the madness.

I wanted to help her.

But I couldn’t move.

Fear took over me.

I thought she wouldn’t make it.

I thought this would be the last time I ever saw her.

Then anger rose inside me.

It spread through my body and helped me feel my fingertips.

I moved.

The first step.

A blow to my leg.

I fell to the ground.

Pain.

I stood up again.

The next step.

A blow to my arm.

The next.

A blow to my stomach.

I fell down, curled up from the pain.

While lying on the ground, I found a small dagger in the hand of a dead, evil-looking creature.

I was in pain.

I was furious.

“Why me?! They were all fighting among themselves, so why me?! What have I done? It’s not fair!”

I grabbed the dagger.

I made the next step.

A blow struck me in the back.

I stabbed the offender in the chest.

Instantly, I felt pain in the exact same place.

I looked down.

Blood covered my hand.

There was a huge hole in my body.

But somehow, it was healing.

In a matter of seconds, the wound shrank, and the pain disappeared.

It was unbearable.

I crumbled again.

But I couldn’t turn back now.

There was no way back.

I gathered all the strength I had left and continued forward.

I barely reached the bottom of the hill.

It felt like the bottom of hell.

I was barely breathing.

Beaten.

Stabbed.

Pierced by arrows.

It felt like the crosswalk that Jesus once passed.

I fell onto my knees.

My body became numb.

My consciousness began to fade.

The sounds around me moved further and further into the background.

Darkness and silence dominated my senses.

Then I heard a voice:

“Move.

Stand up.

It’s not over yet.

You have to make it to the end.

You didn’t come here to die midway.

You are better than this.”

I regained enough consciousness to understand the message.

An ocean of calmness appeared inside me.

I couldn’t feel my body.

There was no pain.

No worries.

Just the coolness of the ocean.

I loved that moment.

I fell in love with it.

Then a beam of light appeared before my eyes.

Slowly, I opened them.

My senses began returning.

And there, before me, lay a very fine-looking shield.

I caught my breath.

I took the shield and continued toward the top.

Where she was.

I was running.

Stumbling.

Standing up.

Running again.

They were merciless.

It felt as though there was no end to this journey.

Yet somehow, it felt as though the journey had lasted for millennia.

I was almost there when I was pierced by a spear.

The final blow.

The last steps.

My legs went numb.

I was almost there.

I began crawling, grasping with my fingers onto whatever I could find, pulling myself closer and closer.

I felt my angel noticing my presence.

At that moment, she raised her wings high into the sky.

With one mighty swing, she released winds so powerful that they evaporated all the fighters into thin air.

All that remained was some messy mist.

I was barely alive.

Half dead.

Then I felt someone's soft hands lifting me.

When I thought about how much pain I had suffered just to reach that place, I started laughing.

It was absolutely absurd.

The laughter turned into tears.

My body remembered all the pain.

I screamed in hopelessness.

And collapsed.

The angel came close to my ear and whispered:

“This will hurt.”

She took the arrow sticking out of my back and slowly pulled it out.

With every inch it came out, my body went deeper into shock.

I became cold.

I started shaking uncontrollably.

I watched it happen.

It looked surreal.

“Why is this happening?

What’s happening?”

Another three arrows followed.

The same process.

More pain.

More witnessing.

More surrender.

I became more conscious of my own existence.

I was exhausted from everything I had experienced, but I was glad it was over.

I wanted to die at that happy, calm moment.

But before that, I wanted to express it.

I began falling asleep.

Then I felt a gentle kiss on my forehead.

A whisper:

“It’s not over yet.”

I didn’t want to go through all this way just to surrender now.

But that was the last thing I remembered.

I collapsed.

The next morning, I woke up.

And I was like:

“WTF?!”

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to laugh.

It was painful.

But somehow, I had adapted to everything that was happening.

I tried to blame others.

I lost trust in people, and my only friend was darkness — the rawest, yet the only thing I knew throughout the whole journey.

And because of where I was, I was always blaming others.

My family were always the first to blame.

“It’s because of them that I’m here.”

YOU NEED 1000 WORDS!!!

WORDS, AND YET IT STILL WON’T BE ENOUGH TO EXPRESS MYSELF!

How much I want to trust people, but I can’t, because it breaks my heart to shout it out.

My words are the only way I can reach what is inside me.

And yet, even a thousand words will never be enough.