From Darkness to Light

The Firewalk

He watched silently, with soulless eyes, as his children walked across the hot coals.

In a row of nine, the infants were naked and in tears. Slowly, they walked across the burning charcoals that nipped at their feet with fire, their soles covered in ash and blisters. They still had such a long way to go and yet not a single adult present considered what they were going through cruel. In fact, they spectated passively with their arms crossed, appraising the worth of the children as they were subjected to this inhumane exercise. Unsurprisingly, one by one the children started crying, no longer able to endure the agony of their flesh being burned. Desperately, they wanted to run to the finish line and end this torture, but they knew that if they did so they would be punished severely for their disobedience. Their instructions were to walk across slowly, and that was what they had to do.

All they could do was cry and yell with tears streaming down their faces. Their father, who was waiting for them at the finish line, raised an eyebrow as he observed his offspring with a sunken gaze. He felt nothing at their embarrassing display of weakness. However, two of them caught his eye.

His eldest and his middle child, unlike the others, had suppressed their urge to weep and instead remained indifferent. They walked with an upright posture that exuded confidence and control that seemed to say there was no fear in their eyes. Of course, appearances can be deceiving.

They were suffering just like the other seven, but they hid it and were doing their best to appear strong before their merciless father. Their father, who should be a source of safety and compassion, was instead the object of their fear. When father was angry, it meant that there is no food or water for the next three days. When father was angry, it meant a severe beating with a thick wooden stick that left deep purple bruises across their frail bodies. When father was angry, it meant being tied up against a tree and left there for 24 hours, being subject to the blistering heat during the day and praying to not be discovered by predators at night. An angry father always led to a new and innovative way to suffer. If they can at all avoid it, they would very much like to not make father angry.

That being said, the other children just weren't staunch enough, crying and babbling like the babies they are, choking down sobs with liquid mucus drooling from their noses. One of them had reached their breaking point, no longer able to stand the scorching heat on their toes and instead stopped walking forward. They began hopping in place and alternating from leg to leg in an attempt to get their feet away from the source of constant pain. Much to their dismay, upon landing the coal beneath them gave way and swallowed up their right leg, burying their flesh in even hotter flames. The child screeched in a deafening howl of anguish and desperately wiggled and writhed to free themselves, manically twisting and looking around for help. The nearby adults did not care. They stood arms crossed like always and watched unstirred.

The other eight children turned their heads in shock as their sibling was stuck in the coals but could not turn back and help them. As much as they wanted to help, they themselves were in tremendous pain and could only keep moving forward as per their father's orders.

Still, one of them was courageous enough to turn back and grab their sibling by the underarms, hoisting them up and freeing their leg from the scorching fire beneath the coals. The leg was covered in burns and the flesh had been severely mangled and seared. Like a good brother, they helped their injured sibling make the final distance towards the finish line, all while they both cried and whaled.

The eldest child, finally at the edge of the hot coals, extended their foot forward and made it onto dirt ground. Immediately, his legs gave out and he collapsed, not even strong enough to look behind him to see if his other siblings had made it safely. Still, even in the midst of this overwhelming exhaustion and pain, the child made no whimper and instead tried his best to breathe normally, single tears gliding across his ashy cheeks.

Looking up, he made out what appeared to be his father's feet, who was towering over him imposingly. Weakly turning his head upwards, he met his gaze and waited for admonishment. He fully expected a punishment for falling to the ground, or letting out his sorrow in the form of tears, as this was indeed an unforgivable offense in the eyes of his father. His jaw was trembling, his feet were numb, and he wanted to die, but with his ears he heard something - words that sounded unfamiliar to him. It was the first time he had been praised by his father in his entire life.

"Good job, Tengen."