Paradise Hell

Symbiosis Fever

"While he was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived. With him was a large crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests and the elders of the people. Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: "The one I kiss is the man; arrest him."  Matthew 26:47-48

Detroit, Michigan

2016

It was a sunny day, and Johnson's family was all together, having a picnic by the lake. It was a happy day, and he had his eyes closed, feeling the breeze on his face while lying on a checkered cloth. He savored the Downy-soft strawberry scent of his recently washed clothes. All of a sudden, someone yelled, 'Dad, come to the lake,' and his body automatically responded by standing up and walking toward the shore with a smile on his face. His kids were inside the lake, and their bodies had this strange shimmer that made him look back, searching for Sheena for an answer, but she was no longer there.

He heard it again, this time his son saying, 'Come on, dad!' and he decided to join them in the lake. He could hear their innocent laughter echoing around. He watched them playing with each other, shining more and more, their smiles as radiant as the sun.

But the idyllic scene quickly took a nightmarish turn as he watched them slip beneath the calm waters, their hands reaching out for help. He tried to swim, but the waters turned black, and he could only see the lifeless bodies of Anthony and Belle, already floating in the lake. He swam desperately, trying to reach them, his breath growing shallower as he saw the water carrying their bodies to the other side of the shore. As he approached, he realized they now appeared as someone else, and upon reaching the shore, he saw two lifeless versions of himself instead of his children.

With a jolt, he awoke from this haunting reverie, his heart pounding in his chest. Reality crashed over him like a cold wave, and he found himself lying on a makeshift cardboard bed in the unforgiving streets of Detroit, with an unknown homeless man urinating on his legs.

Johnson stood up and yelled at the man, who quickly fled. He grabbed his backpack and headed to the Chinese restaurant, where he could sometimes use the bathroom in the back. Clutching a dollar tightly in his hand, Johnson ventured into the cafeteria bathroom. The flickering fluorescent lights above barely illuminated the cracked tiles and worn-out fixtures. He found the owner at the counter and, reluctantly, handed over the dollar, his only currency for a semblance of cleanliness.

In the bathroom, the meager stream did little to wash away the memories of his dreamlike encounter with his children in the inky black waters. Leaving the dimly lit restroom, Johnson walked the desolate streets of Detroit, his steps heavy with the weight of uncertainty. The faded signs of long-abandoned car shops stood as silent witnesses to the city's decline. With each passing block, he searched for an opportunity, a chance to break free from the grip of destitution and carve a path toward redemption.

Trying to distance himself from feelings of loneliness, Johnson's weary eyes fell upon a weathered repair shop. The metal doors were securely closed, yet hope flickered as he noticed a sign hanging beside them. The sign, faded and tattered but still legible, read: "We need experienced mechanics." Johnson's heart quickened as he saw this as an opportunity, a chance to put his skills to use once more. With renewed determination, he approached the shop, ready to knock on those metal doors and ask about the job.

No one answered when he rang the bell, despite his repeated attempts. Johnson noticed that the door wasn't properly locked, so he cautiously pushed it open. It was then that he stumbled upon a horrifying and confusing scene, one that filled him with instant regret for having opened the door.