this is the second and the final part.

everyone is going down to the foot of the mountain to shelter themselves from danger.
 
the old man's heart beats like a marathon.
 
the last time he felt this was when the typhoon hit their place, two years later than the occurrence of the lahar, when his two lovely daughters and his housewife sailed away by the flash flood.
 
somehow his hope sailed away as well.
 
but he grabbed his brown sack and put a pack of biscuits, two remaining medicines for his arthritis, a bottle of water, a banana, a lighter, and a hand-sized, unread bible.
 
he stares at his cauldron, where half-cocked rice is currently ripening. and those cinders burn before his eyes, giving him unclear advice.
 
he is starving, but his breakfast isn't ready, and he needs to rush before he dies.
 
he needs to save his own life.

the end.



© ubik


[image taken from freepik.com]
#ubikfeelsodd