It was a cold night,the rage of the storm had intensified and the wind was vociferous enough to make the dogs believe as if the place were haunted by ghosts.Pedro's hands were cold, stifled by the constant battering of the weather.The fire in the courtyard had somehow extinguished out on account of no further combustible material available.He felt as though the curse of the Devil was upon him,the deep sores of his heart and the physical wounds on his body choked him with agonizing pain."Is this why thou art mindful of man Oh Lord,that he may suffer and roam to the ends of the earth like a vagabond",he cried clasping his hands and looking heaven-ward.The leprous wounds had failed to heal,much of it to do with the delay of summer setting in that year.He was overwhelmed with much strife,his world had somehow fallen into a mirage.He had dreamt the world of being a utopia,a place where solace and harmony were intertwined with love and compassion.These walls of Xanadu raised not by concrete and mortar but by flight of phantasy suddenly came crumbling down;Pedro's return to the real world was supplemented by a feeling of emptiness.'This world,the real world was inhabited by leeches and frankensteins',said he with a tear drop silhouetted by the crescent moon.His belief in God never quivered,for his dismay of the present world was substituted by the hope of a future world."The first shall be last and last shall be first",he kept mumbling to himself reviving his spirits from this sudden surge of betrayed horror.


Julie had come home after attending her graduation day.The day's events had numbed her from the routine attacks of anxiety;those everyday common feelings of sulkiness couldn't deprive her from a momentary uprise in happiness today.She felt elated.The arrival of night summoned by the sound of the Siren was accompanied by the voices of the wild beasts which gave the impression of an orchestra performing with discordant instruments; yet this heightened perception of the dark couldn't reckon her with any kind of comfort.Her resentment toward anything metaphysical spoke volumes from the fumes of tobacco smoke that exited from her window.'A vow of silence perhaps may cleanse me from my Catholic upbringing' she said vociferously,sounding far from being whimsical.Her Ideas of 'religious cleansing' had severed most of the deeply ingrained theological disputes and existential struggles that tormented her.She had recovered twice before from hysterical bouts,bouts she believed arose from an undercurrent of Moral Repression.Was her Catholic upbringing to be blamed for her loss of freedom? Was the pressure put upon her parents by society to be blamed? Such questions kept recurring in her mind as she lay there on the sofa,her legs slightly tilted toward the ground and her thoughts completely obscured by a dark cloud of a hallucinatory vision.She was experiencing a high,she was on Cocaine.


"This Caviar tastes awfully good!" exclaimed Ryan as he raised a toast to the band of executives that were lunching together.It had been an awfully rough day at the office,with stocks plummeting and workers being laid off this seemed the ideal 'Havana' for charging up some exhausted batteries.With the flow of liquor and women being limitless it seemed as though everyone was relishing the moment,but hidden deep within the recesses of his mind Ryan knew all of this was just temporal.This exhilarated release of energy would soon die and the gloominess of life's shadows would again return.He dreaded the walls of his house for they brought back images of the past,every wall was painted with a different image to see and every room was filled with a different odor to smell.The Souvenirs he had received from the United Nations for his role as the Brand Ambassador of peace seemed like Certificates warranting the Deaths of millions of children.His pharmaceutical company had profited millions of dollars over the graves of these unfortunate.His R&D team had researched on a special drug built to eradicate Streptomytyci,a disease affecting the autonomous nervous system.The harvested gene showed positive results when tested on primates but had somehow reversed it's tendencies to heal when tested on humans.The effects of the generic drug showed signs of a quick recovery but the implications of the harmful side weren't physically observed until several years later.Being obsessed with the chance of drawing heavy on filthy lucre,Ryan knew his chances of winning were good only if the FDA passed his drug as a safe drug.Years later,after accumulating a huge mass of wealth Ryan seemed reasonably happy to his fellow partners.The deep abyss of remorse was somehow covered up by large doses of amphetamines,pain-killers and sleeping pills.He couldn't spend a moment without thinking about what the consequences of his decision would have in a few years from now.What baffled him greatly was how a person's conscience could still trouble him even after years of not giving heed to it.It probably rose from a nostalgic sense of betrayed innocence,he thought to himself.He was financially secure,yet was his future bleak.'The thread of humanity weaves up great mysteries',said he injecting within himself a lethal shot of barbiturate.


Thus,the Tainted Garment travels through the epochs of time tormenting man's soul with dreadful thoughts.Is it human weakness to subscribe to this Tainted Garment or are we debtors to it?Philosophers,Artists,Men of Valor,Musicians,Scientists are all his debtors.Is the Fabric of this Garment so closely knit to ours,such that they cannot be irreconcilable to each other?Are the decisions we make governed by this rug? The chronicles of this Garment are well documented by countless number of wise men,Men whom society have deemed unworthy; yet has society changed countless times by the thoughts of these very men who have tried measuring the length and breadth of this tainted garment.