The sky was a burning bright orange, as though God had decided to light his own private bonfire. Mountains in deep purple could be seen all around. A hoard of people wearing long black cloaks with hoods to conceal their faces moved along the serpentine path silently. I walked among them. I gathered that this must be some sacred pilgrimage, and the curiosity of where this would lead to got me intrigued. Everyone moved in a system, like robots.

It was raining heavily, and the ground we walked on was loose and slippery. I got a tad impatient and wanted to get to the next level sooner, even if that meant taking a shortcut. Try as I might, I couldn't pull myself to the next level as I kept losing my foothold. Then a strong hand appeared from the level above me. I could not see the person's face as the cloak had concealed it. That hand helped me through it all until I finally reached the top of the mountain. I observed, much to my disappointment, that there was a frail shrub with a single red flower in bloom.

Trying to conceal my disappointment, I thanked the stranger who helped me and asked if there was a way that I could repay the favour, and he said he would love for me to pluck the red flower from the shrub and gift it to him. I kept thinking, ' Wow, I got off easy that's not a challenging task at all'. I bent down to pluck the flower, and suddenly it sprouted a million razor-sharp thorns that cut me all over. I still tried to pull at it, but it would not budge. That man saw this sight and laughed menacingly as though he took pleasure in my misery. I saw a black horse and carriage draw up to the man as he got into it and disappeared.

I was right there, kneeling, bleeding and humiliated, all alone at the top of a mountain with no clue as to why I was there and how the hell I was going to get back home.