In a cheap inconvenient motel, Byron stayed there with the rest of his life until he can get back the money that had been taken from him. Every day, he will wake up with the smell of smoke on his nose- it came from a factory few kilometers away. People who are affected already complained to the local government , but there was no answer until now.
Byron was peeling potatoes, when scratches were sauntering in the mantle, providing insinuations, it was unobtrusive especially in this town where people are busy, until a obstreperous noise fluttered above like a bird perching the rooftop of the mantle. It cause the ground to shudder. Byron thought it was an earthquake, so he hid under a rusty, ancient, shriveled wooden table.
There were explosions, helicopters intruded the factory, missiles exuberantly scoured the factory rupturing it into pieces, debris, shattered glasses, broken pipes gambol up high striking people nearby. It seems interminable for Byron as cacophony of sirens from emergency cars and police cars illuminated the highways harrying drivers making them recklessly drive and wreck each other, petrifying other citizens.
It is no good if you just hid under a table. So Adams regained his balance and hold on to a chair then to the drawer.
He blundered and moved uneasily. Adams turned the tv from the 80s on but it did not responded. He leaned on the wall and crouched beside the window.
"What the hell is going on?" Adams muttered.
Opening the window to eavesdrop, the skies that were once blue turned into ruddy violet, electric posts in every corner beside the sidewalks were ignited by fire, and some injured people succumbed. Adams's nose inhaled the stench of rotting metals coming from the factory that made him grimace. His mind tells him to imagine smelling the incense of perfume in the air in a 5 star luxurious hotel that he once longed to experience in his life when he was still wealthy and rich, there were private planes that accompanied him whenever unexpected calamities happen, unique savor of different kinds of food from different countries await him in buffets to save him from famine. But he did vomit, for his mind's futile attempt didn't work.
It was just a memory or phantasm that registered in his brain, he became distraught when he visualized where he is right now in a lousy and suffering condition, that he can't fathom the idea that it is the reality.
Later on, he heard footsteps on the threshold outside the room, that averted his attention.
Adams crawled to see clearly what is behind the door.
He could see the Nike shoes, it was like the shoes of Lebron. There was a key chain on it, the key chain reminded him of one of his close friends.
Then a hand seized the handle of the door.
"Who's that?" Byron sat down on the chair, played the music of Prince from the unorthodox jukebox, while reading the Old Testament of the Bible, as if pretending that nothing happened.
"It's me...Ryan.. Ryan Simmons, please let me in. I'm begging you."
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" Hard work pays off"