Hell was like a black hole that engulfs everything in its path since the dawn of time. As man grapples with modern day evils, hell's cavernous belly expands to provide space to new damned souls who are indeed welcome by the devil's legion.
Juan came upon a group of souls whose mouths were stuffed with grass (marijuana), while others were impaled with oversized syringe laden with heroin, cocaine or its cheap Asian counterpart—shabu. The damned pushers of marijuana found nothing objectionable with medical cannabis, since most users of cannabis have terminal diseases and would soon die anyway.
But many drug addicts would use a combination of drugs like cocktail until their systems fail. Juan saw a damned soul who was condemned to die by firing squad during martial law period in the Philippines. Lim Seng, a restaurant owner, found nothing wrong with his incursion into drugs.
It was a turbulent time of activism, he muttered. The students were fed up with classroom stasis. Academic discussion cannot solve the socio-political problems. Vietnam war, agrarian disputed, communists influences in the academe. The students tried to flex their muscles in the street, meeting truncheons or water cannons with idealism and heroine.
As a businessman I found drug trade enticing for the young people drowned their frustrations with heroin, cannabis and even sleeping pills. I got rich, so with some government people. But I became a gambling pawn to impress the world that martial law produces instant action.
I was fed to the maniac's dogs. Thinking that drug trade could be stopped with bullets. They were wrong. My legion has spread and will continue to grow. And you, Juan, you and your friends will be my victims. Never, retorted Juan.
If I came back home, I promised to save the drug victims from their addiction, thought Juan. Some of his junk buddies had fallen into drug addiction, starting with rugby, then marijuana, and finally shabu. But how could I help them when I am in this dark pit? Asked Juan.
