Short personal fiction / symbolic narrative
Two days before Christmas, I was physically and spiritually broken.
This story is written by a woman with no friends, many enemies, and a body shaking from legally induced opioid withdrawal. A woman living in a country that breaks its own people—through corruption, communism, violence, fear, and systems that pretend to protect while slowly destroying souls.
But this story did not begin with pain.
It began with love.
My child wanted to give me a Christmas gift. A simple one. A moment together. What mother would say no? No matter the weather, no matter the exhaustion, I went. When he said, “Let’s go,” I answered without hesitation.
That night, the rain was heavy. Dark. Relentless. The streets were empty. Only the two of us walked, hand in hand, spending our little money, enjoying the city in silence.
Nothing warned me of what was coming.
Until the shop.
The Nuts Shop
At first, it was nothing special. Just another small stand selling Chinese-style nut-filled dough balls. But something was different.
The vibe.
My child—who never asks for food—stopped suddenly and said,
“I want nuts from here.”
We stood there in the storm. Wind, rain, darkness. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then fifteen. Almost half an hour.
The young woman selling the food moved strangely slowly. Not rude. Not busy. Just… detached. As if time worked differently for her. As if we were waiting inside a loop that only she controlled.
And my child seemed mesmerized—drawn by the smell, the waiting, the moment.
Why did we stay?
I still ask myself that.
The Encounter
Then I noticed him.
A young man. He looked no older than fourteen. Too pale. Too thin. His arms were unnaturally long beneath black clothing. His eyes—sharp, watching. His fingers moved strangely near his watch, as if measuring something invisible.
Next to him stood another figure, heavier, darker, aggressive in presence. Something about them felt wrong. Not dangerous in a loud way—but in a quiet, unsettling one.
We stood together in the rain, waiting for nuts.
In a temporal loop.
The young man smiled, as if he wanted to speak. Normally, I would have answered. But something inside me rejected the moment completely. A deep instinct screamed no.
I looked at my child and made a small sign: This is crazy. We’re leaving.
And we left.
The Fall
Five hundred meters later, at a bridge between two streets, something changed.
The air felt heavy. Pressured. As if the ground shifted beneath me.
And then I fell.
Hard.
Pain exploded through my body. A broken leg. The world blurred. Strangers appeared. An ambulance. Long waiting hours in wet clothes. Fear, shock, exhaustion.
The nuts—still intact.
That detail haunted me. AGAIN about nuts!
Similarity? A “date with a nut” sent me poisoned to hospital last year!
Aftermath
The days that followed were worse.
Surgery. Pain medication – Opioids. Then withdrawal. Cold sweats. Palpitations. Nausea. Anxiety. Darkness. My child counting my breaths, whispering:
“If you stop breathing, I’ll shake you.”
And I woke up. Every time.
I am a nurse. I know what withdrawal feels like. I know what overdose feels like. I know how easily pain can turn into dependence. And I refused to let that happen to me.
Cold turkey.
I will not become another casualty of a system that creates addiction and calls it treatment.
What This Story Is Really About
This is a story about aliens and very dirty and dark intelligence!
It is a story about fear, trauma, exhaustion, and how the human mind searches for meaning when reality becomes unbearable.
It is about how societies fail their people.
How pain isolates.
How love—especially a child’s love—keeps us alive.
And how close we all are to breaking.
This Christmas, I learned one thing clearly:
Evil does not need monsters.
It only needs systems that forget humanity.
And faith—faith in something higher than suffering—is sometimes the only thing that keeps us standing.