I remember the door. It looked rusted but it smelled more putrid, like the smell of a festering wound.
I don’t remember opening the door. Just that the smell got worse, like burning bodies in the crematorium. Or an infested meat house.
In our line of work, Brother, we deal with the dying, we know the smell s. But this was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. You asked me why I am forsaking the monkhood vows?
Inside the darkness I looked for the sick and dying, the bodies that could’ve caused the rancidness. But there was nothing. No bodies or bones. No blankets or medical equipment. No animals or fecal matter. There was no sign that life had ever been there. And without life, how could there possibly be death?
Death cannot exist without Life, but has found a way. Death made a deal with the Devil and even a pact between Life and God will not win this war.