There was not a soul around him living or dead. He had slight reminiscences of people from his past. Sometime ago he had worked himself into a tremendous passion and killed a man, and to pass the days of anxiety and guilt he viewed luminous orbs moving stealthily through the sky. He also talked to himself in a succession of varied ventriloquist voices to amuse his mind. He desired tranquility of mind and to be delivered from shame from the aching disease of his mind. He was uncertain of what future may come and believed he was on the wrong side of time.
As an old believer he tried to recollect back to his time but it was no use. His mind was like an ancient bed of a river covered with stagnate water. He layed down and tried to gain an understanding of the new world and its people. He was not afraid of them as they kept to themselves, ignoring him at every opportunity. It was clear to him that his prodigal talents were no longer needed and he decided to plunge into misery.
He became a nocturnal creature, living in gloom and confidentiality. He was no longer his master, he became hypocritical and deceitful, blaming himself for no longer having a purpose in life. It was rumored by townsfolk that he no longer spoke intelligently and muttered about warped visions and dreams, gently fondling the past and would stand on a street corner and holler, "He is now here, now there he is, sometimes here, sometimes there."
Alas! He thought that his soul was near the point of death. He was nothing more than skin and bones. He sneered at everyone around him in contempt and that's when he realized it is better to be clever than strong. The presence of strangers aggravated him. He heard them saying that he had grown old and was senile; a man that told the same old story of old traditions over and over. He realized that he could not reproach himself for past errors, his decent he believed was caused by the removal of the cross from around his neck. The apparition of happiness was the symptom of his disease. He realized that life could only be dear until one got tired of it. But in that moment as he thought about it, a shocking thought of martyrdom entered his head. And with this thought and one action he entered the realm of everlasting misery or everlasting bliss.