I was just a lonely wanderer, searching for food, shelter or any reason to stay alive. I had no home, no family of any kind left. My clothes were broken down and tattered, with tears and cuts all along my sleeves from the harsh nights spent sleeping outside. Nothing to my name except my shoes whose soles were nailed together, but somehow I never seemed to bleed from them.
One day, in the blistering heat I came across a figure. This figure was God, or maybe Lucifer under some façade. It said nothing to me as I stared blankly, trying to make out its face, or any discernible feature. Finally, after some time, I got on my knees and with one desperate push I let out a plea, “I beg you, I am in need of food and water! Please stranger, anything will do.”. As I blinked, the figure came before me and without a word, placed its dark, silhouetted hand on my temple. A rush of vivid images flooded my mind, of different homes left in ruin. One that burned down, one that fell apart, one destroyed in a flood and one that never existed. These homes were all unfamiliar to me, yet I could not forget them. The figure spoke at last, its voice echoing in my head as if it were in a cavern. “They tried to destroy you, but their weapons always failed. So they took to destroying your home, and made to look as if it were an accident. You may try to seek them out and claim your vengeance, but be warned that this path will lead...