Lost in the throes of resounding silence,

I trudge along to find,

I have been subdued within the confines of my mind,

No sense in my direction, and my breath takes its leave,

Unable to escape and damned without reprieve.

The throes of that terrible silence,

Drowns my consciousness with doubt,

The terror and the panic to the fact I can't get out,

This bleak hellscape in which is conjured in my head,

I fear will trap my soul forever long after I am dead.

The evening was thick with a miasmatic aura. The encroaching darkness was just barely repelled by a few swaying lanterns, the flames from the candles struggling to survive. This night would be colder than most, he could feel it in his bones.

A small fire crackled quietly in the hearth, the cracking of the wood periodically breaking the silence. It is getting much colder thought Willem, who shot an uneasy glance at the soft glow of the fire. He was running out of firewood, but he would have to wait until morning. He had lived in the hamlet all of his life, and since he was a boy he knew not to linger outdoors when the darkness came.

Long ago, Willem used to wander the woods that surrounded their cottage with his brother Hugh, while their father worked in the village. Together they would have grand adventures, pretending to be the sages that forbade them from the very forests in which they frolicked. Whenever Willem thought of these cheerful times, his heart grew heavy. There were not many souls who populated their village, thus mutual assistance and goodwill was their foundation; and there were only two rules: never linger at night, and never enter the woods. If only they had listened.

Now an old man, the grief and guilt had consumed Willem. He lived alone at the cottage, his father having died long ago in the shock of losing his beloved son. Willem reclused, consoling himself with the last of the dark liquor bottle he held to his chest. While looking at the darkness consume the world outside his cottage, a painful moan interrupted the delicate quiet. He has come again. Tears began to trickle down his gaunt face. Willem clutched the neck of the bottle until his knuckles whitened, and with a quiet sob gulped the last drops of the bottle. "Hugh... I-I'm so sorry..." he muttered, shutting his eyes and beginning to rock back and forth.

Willem winced as a slow knocking began quietly rapping on the door to the cottage. He clenched his teeth and fought back a sob. The knocking began getting louder, and faster. Then silence. Just as suddenly as the knocking stopped a pained, toneless voice manages, "Pleassseee...Wi..llem..." Willem bursts into tears, both out of sorrow and of fear. He wish that Hugh could have just died.

At the end of the day, the remaining 5 men choose to accept their destiny. It is not in the stars for them to create bloodlines. Instead, these men embrace the spirit of their indomitable bromance and camaraderie, and cherish the masculine garden of Adam provided to them. They are and forever will be, just some guys being dudes.

If I had infinite wealth, what would I do? First, most likely wanton spending. How tempting it would be, to buy anything one could will, to self-indulge and maybe do some sight-seeing. But how would I feel at the end of the day? In the future? I would feel hollow. Instead, I feel a magical, boundless wealth would better be enjoyed with all. For money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure helps.