School Project. The story of three characters who decide to participate in a pilgrimage in the Sacred Lagoon of Peru
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 The Pilgrimage

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Tatsuhiro Satō

Messages : 7
Date d'inscription : 2016-03-08

PostSubject: The Pilgrimage   Thu 31 Mar - 21:12

As soon as the car stopped, Sato felt relieved. Would have he known that he would have to travel stuck between two strangers, he would have refrain himself from paying the Peruvian man. At least, the Spanish man was calm. He had been looking through the window with an expression of sorrow for the whole trip. Sato wondered what had happened to him, but was too shy to ask. When the African man entered the mini-van though, Sato did not felt as much comfortable. The African man gave off a strong aura of energy, like a lightning in a dark calm night. The way he had made the vehicle stop had almost given Sato a heart attack. He was still shivering from the thought of it. Something was offset with this strange character: how does he knew that the mini-van was going to the Huaringas? There were no signs of any sort to suggest it on the vehicle…

Could he be watching me?

The uneasiness grew stronger for the young Japanese. He could not stop himself from glancing in the direction of the tall black man for the las hour of the ride.

When they finally got out the vehicle, a sickly thin man went out of a bush. He was wearing a dirty hat made of alpaca’s wool and most of his teeth were missing. He had a long staff that helped him walk.

Welcome at the first step of your travel, young adventurers! In front of you lie the savage mountains that lead to the Huaringas.  If your heart truly seeks peace and fulfilment, this challenge should not be a real difficulty. Follow the path and you will find answers to your questions.

With a swift movement, the thin man turned his back to the three newcomers and started to walk. Behind them, the mini-van coughed and jumped back on the road. In no time, the Peruvian man was far behind, leaving the three men at their own misery. Sato felt the world collapse around him and started to panic. He calmed down when noticing the African man calmly walking towards the mountains, like it was all part of his plan. Sato plucked up the courage to take his things and followed the black man.

After a few minutes, the hikikomori felt relaxed. The weather was great; a small breeze was blowing, contrasting deeply with the heat of the capital. There were weird threes around them, with no branches at the bottom and clumps at the top. At some point, they went by a white alpaca, quietly grazing the poor vegetation. Their guide finally broke the silence:

So, he said, why are you seeking redemption? What are you looking for in the Huaringas?

No one uttered a sound for a little while, but Sato decided to take the lead:

- I am fleeing from my country. I felt like my relatives wanted to sequestrate me.

The guide gave to Sato an odd look, like he could see through his soul.

- Are you sure others want to sequestrate you or are you sequestrating yourself from others?

Sato looked down, slightly ashamed. He let the thought sink in while listening to the story of the others. Part of him wanted to ignore the guide, the fact is, he had himself thought that he was the problem. He simply did not have the courage to rectify his own life.
At the end of the day, they had joined a small town named Salala. Time had passed by quite rapidly even if Sato was deeply glad to have arrived because blisters had overrun his feet and were now cracking up one by one. He was sitting down near the Spanish man, applying bandages around his sore feet, when a man from the village came:
The ritual is about to begin.

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