Chapter 13 – yeah,it's probably a cult 

I put myself on a mission.

A mission to do weird shit.

To experiment with my own life and see what I wouldn’t do — or what I would.

Like playing truth or dare and choosing dare every single time,

Because there’s no truth to be told.

It’s all out in the air.

I bought a ticket to see flowers.

Yeah. Just… see plants.

Do I like plants? Yeah, maybe.

But not enough to want to pay to see them.

But here I am anyway, standing in front of something called “Rose Romanc.”

(Yeah. That’s actually what they call it.)

I inhaled. Big.

The air smells like tourists.

I was expecting more of a floral scent, but sure — at least I smelled something.

Flowers are everywhere.

It gets a little overwhelming not knowing which one to focus on.

Is that orange flower really orange?

Or is it green? Pink? One of those other colors I probably can’t see anymore.

Five years ago, I might’ve been able to tell.

But I guess my eyes decided they’ve seen enough.

Then it was time to walk myself up a hill to this super sublime church.

Am I Christian? No.

To many Christians, I’m probably an abomination that defies the divine.

But ironically, I look like a good little church boy in my school shorts and red-yellow striped tie.

I didn’t go in.

Didn’t want to bring any sins into this holy place.

I just sat outside and let myself stay there — marinating under nature’s oven.

I drew the church in my little travel notebook, where all my trash thoughts go.

It had bright red walls and roofs, soft warm-white windows, and a line of green grass.

Yeah… probably shouldn’t have done that.

My drawing’s a disgrace to that sacred building.

Then a white chicken flew by me.

“Chickens fly?”

But seriously. That bird was white as a ghost.

Still, it brought me some kind of release.

Like I was being forgiven for something I didn’t even know I did.

But it’s all good now, because apparently I’m forgivened.

My sister once said what I’m doing now is stupid and autistic.

That this whole self-discovery journey is just some sad attempt to feel better about my pathetic high school dropout life,

With its lovely collection of mental issues.

I guess I’m good at peace then.

I heard about a lecture happening tonight.

Topic: death and the afterlife.

Something about a person’s mental plane, reincarnation, all that noise.

So I thought — why not?

I’m a ticking time bomb.

Death might reach me at any moment, so I might as well get a preview before I pass away.

Getting there took half a life out of me.

On my way there, while violently recycling my own breath, I couldn’t shake the feeling:

“This is gonna be a cult, isn’t it?”

No — but look at where I’m standing.

This place is sketchy as hell.

The lecture was held in a little room, through a little door — in a carpark.

You’d think it was a storage closet if not for the weird flyer taped to the wall.

“Come on, Daniel. Why do you even care?”

Yeah. Even if it was a cult, I wanted to see what they were putting on the table.

I didn’t eat dinner anyway.

When I entered, they handed me a form to fill out and pushed me into the lecture room.

Or... just the room. That was the whole place.

Disappointing. I was expecting more than a couple of scrawny adults and an old bald guy using a mic that works as well as public school Wi-Fi.

And the guy?

He couldn’t even catch his own breath. His voice had the same consistency as mud, and that didn’t help.

Even though I’m sure this isn’t a cult cult, it’s definitely… cultish.

He started talking about the seven mental planes of sound, heaven, and spirituality.

I did end up with two full pages of notes by the end.

But I don’t believe a single thing they said.

The old ladies working there seemed to take a weird liking to me.

I noticed one of them glancing at my notes through the glass reflection.

Another just stood behind me. Just stood there.

I figured they would.

Not surprised.

While I was leaving, they blocked my way — both hands on my shoulders.

“Would you be here for the next talk on Thursday? We would love to have you.”

Expected.

Not sure why people always grab me like this.

Actually, I do have a few theories, but let’s not get into that. It’s probably what you think I meant.

I looked into her eyes, let out a soft laugh — more like a stress signal.

“Oh, sorry ma’am. I don’t believe so. I’m just here to extend my horizons. Curiosity.”

“Oh, but you have to. Don’t you want to know what comes next?”

I don’t know.  you?

Yup — in this kind of situation, the best thing to say is an uncertain answer that sounds certain.

“Sure. I’ll think about it.”

And from her face, she only heard “sure.”

Good enough for me, because I needed to get out of there fast.

Another old lady approached.

“Daniel, are you in primary or secondary school?”

“Secondary.”

“Sec what?”

“Two.”

“Oh my.”

They looked at each other — full of… I don’t know, pleasant surprise?

“That’s younger than your son!”

Then they both put their hands together in front of their chests and reached toward the ceiling.

Some sort of ritual.

“There is hope.”

“We have hope.”

Okay. Now this is officially creepy.

I’m only here because I want to kill myself.

I don’t know if the “hope” they’re talking about is even in the room with us.

I turned to the door, opened it, and gave one last glance back.

Sure enough, they were still standing there.

Smiling.

Silent.

Staring.

I forced a smile.

“See you.”

Then very quietly, I left the building.

“Not a chance.”

They still have my phone number and email.

That’s concerning.

But no, I don’t regret it.

It was stimulating — in the dangerous way.

Still…

I’m not going back there though.