The Light At The End Of The Tunnel🔊

Malcolm, an ordinary, middle-aged clerk, led a mundane life. His days would grind slowly, barely distinguished from one another. The only magical element in his world was his dreams—vivid, bizarre, and sometimes unyieldingly vivid. One dream, in particular, haunted him: A dimly lit, winding tunnel, and a radiant light at the farthest end that Malcolm was forever running towards but never quite reaching.

One day, reeling from the monotony of his existence, Malcolm decided to chase the light in his dreams—the only thing that exhilarated him. Enlisting a hodgepodge of adventurers, consisting of an astrologer, an archaeologist, and a cinematographer, Malcolm set out on his bizarre quest.

Ignoring the city's quizzical glances, they started scanning ancient books, maps, and cosmic charts, hunting for traces of Malcolm’s tunnel. Months went by, with no signs of progress. The group’s spirits dwindled, and discouragement began to shadow their initial enthusiasm, except for Malcolm, who was unwavering in his faith.

One day, as they were scouring through an old, labyrinthine library, Malcolm stumbled upon a dusty, forgotten manuscript. It illustrated a tunnel remarkably similar to his dream. Excitement coursed through Malcolm’s veins as they deciphered the location - a remote, uninhabited island. Malcolm's dream was within reach, and he felt life throbbing through him with brute force.

Upon reaching the island, they were greeted with a sheer mountain face with an ominous tunnel entrance. Armed with torches and a spirited resolve, they plunged into the tunnel. It was all-too-similar to his dream. It was dark, with hard stone underfoot, and the walls were close on either side, slick with moisture. Ahead, a dot of light beckoned. They clung onto hope and kept moving.

The tunnel remained constant: no branching paths, no ladder leading to a supposed light at the end of the tunnel. Days blended into nights, and an urgency to reach the ‘end’ possessed Malcolm. Skin pallid and bones weak, he kept going, telling himself, 'one foot in front of the other.'

On the brink of despair, the adventurers noticed the light intensifying. They raced through the tunnel, lunging towards the exit. Malcolm squinted, allowing his eyes to adjust to the searing brightness slowly. When he finally opened his eyes, he was greeted with a sight that took his breath away.

An Eden-like valley stretched out before them, bathed in golden sunlight with flowers of all colors and trees laden with fruits. The air was pure, and the melody of a bubbling brook serenaded their ears. What left them awe-struck was the people—sublime beings emanating a radiant warmth, welcoming the worn-out adventurers with a glorifying cheer.

Having journeyed through the tunnel, Malcolm didn’t just find the literal light at the end; he found a new meaning, a new vigor, and a revitalized purpose. His dream, what he’d dismissed as a vision born from boredom, held something so tangibly wondrous. He'd unearthed a place hidden from the world, a secret haven. No longer an ordinary clerk, Malcolm defied the numbing monotony of his existence and plunged headfirst into his dreams.

Together with the exotic beings, the adventurers built a utopia. They linked their world with the real world and enabled people to visit and revel in the bliss they'd discovered. It was no longer Malcolm's dream; it had become a shared joy, a symbol of hope for lost souls, mirroring Malcolm's journey - the light at the end of the tunnel, eternal and promising.