Shortly after you think of that wish, in the evening a group of masked people in black costumes break into your room and drug you before you can even scream. A total darkness on your sight tells you that you have been wrapped in a sack of sorts, and footsteps around you make you realize that they are taking you away from your house. A sound of a car’s door being slammed, a rough thump as you are thrown, and you can remember nothing else.
You wake up tied on an iron chair, its cold handles burn your arms as your wrists are tied to it by sinister chains. Your clothes have gone, leaving only your bare muscles and a rough short pants to combat the chilling air. You seem to be in an underground chamber. A bright light shines in front of you, making you dizzy, but you cannot help but squint at the direction in front of you. Vague shadows there tell you that someone, or some people, are there in front of you, but you have no idea who they are or what their intentions are.
Still confused, you hear them asking you a question.
You do not understand what they are talking about, so you can only shake your head and whisper weakly “I don’t know”. The voice, or voices, talk again, this time in an angrier tone, and you can only shake your head once more and repeat your answer.
Suddenly, something whistles in the air and a burning sensation claws your shoulders. You let out a painful scream as you are being whipped. The merciless fabric tears your flesh violently as the commands are shouted. One…two…three times….
The interrogation continues for how long, but you collapses midway, writhing in wounds and pain.
The hellish tortures last for days (or years? You have lost count), each day more painful that the last. You still do not understand what it is they want and desperately try to tell them this, but they seem to be just that more steeled in their resolve to extract an answer out of you. After an eternity of these useless games, you simply give up. You shut your mouth and let them do whatever they want with you. You have lost all your hope, and even the face of your family and your own Legend of Zelda forum you do not remember anymore.
It works. Soon, the torture stops. You are told that you are going to be executed tomorrow.
The procession, you feel, is a sad one. But also somehow revitalizing. After spending uncountable days in that damp dungeon cell, you are brought into a better room upstairs on the night before your execution. It is a barren room and still devoid of windows, but at least it has a bed. Your favorite meal is brought along with your favorite drink, and a priest of your religion is brought to give you courage to face the afterlife.
That night, you cannot sleep.
Just as soon as the dawn breaks a group of masked people come in and salute you. They help you stand up, tie your arms behind your back, and have a blindfold wrapped around your eyes. In total darkness you walk to your doom, not knowing where you are or where you are going. Not even knowing why you are here in the first place. The only thing you know, the only thing that seems to matter now, is that the end is certain.
A soft ground beneath your bare feet tells you that you are being led outside. The fresh breeze is unmistakably morning, and you can feel its gentle fingers caress your weary face like pink-cheeked angels welcoming you to their fold. You are made to stand against a cold concrete wall, its soft moss a great relieve after a life in total confinement, and you can only wait there with mixed feelings as orders are given.
When they are ready, your blindfold is removed, and for the first time after an eternity you face the cheerful sun again.
You seem to be in a barren courtyard, dotted only here and there by tufts of fresh green grass. A tall barbed walls surrounds you, with guarded watchtowers at certain intervals. Some of the men there holds their weapons up and give you a final salute. In front of you is a squad of gunners with their deadly muzzles aimed right at you, and a kind-faced commandant stands near them looking towards you, ready to give the final command.
But in that eventful moment, you see not the officers nor the killing machines pointing towards you. No. For you see something else behind the grim-faced squad, something with such an ephemeral beauty that it seems so lost at this moment of finality.
There, behind the squad, right in the center of the walled courtyard, stands a solitary tree. Its branches spreads wide and proud, supported by an old and wise trunk, home to a handful of dreamy mosses. Its twigs are slightly barren, but their color is what catches your very heart and soul. An elegant display of pink-tinged white flowers are bunched up there, like groups of heavenly clouds, and as you stare fixedly at them they wave their colorful fingers as if praying for you along with the morning sky.
It is a Cherry Blossom tree, full and vibrant in its blooming season.
A tear escapes your eyes. You don’t even feel the bullets piercing your heart.
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Ah, it gets so dark...
Don't forget to bring foods if you really go to watch them!
Wish: I wish every cloud has pink-tinged hue along with their usual color