Midnight of Life

The sun had long gone down entirely by the time the entire process was finished. It was well past night, nearing the darkest hours of the entire day – midnight.

The vast majority of normal people had long home for the day, emptying the streets. The only ones who would remain out at this point never had any good intentions.

Winter at night in Canada was incredibly cold, even if there was no snow. The temperature would often dip down well past the absolute freezing point, usually being around -8 degrees Celsius. This sort of weather only encouraged people to stay at home, huddling inside for warmth.

But Randolph couldn't go back, not any more.

Near his apartment complex, there was a stretch of forest that lined the city. It wasn't large, usually used as a biking or hiking trail for the locals. The young man was currently in this stretch of woods.

It was pitch-black outside in the forest, but his eyes had long adjusted to the darkness. That combined with the dim light of the moon provided him with enough vision to make out the details of his surroundings.

He had purposely avoided the main trail, travelling deep into the forest in what should have been a path known only to him. While the winter had made the depths of the forest much more visible by stripping the trees of all its leaves, it was still deep enough that nobody should have known about it.

Randolph clutched a small briefcase in his left arm, holding it tightly to his chest. Inside of it was $4.1k of hard cash. It was the money that was left over after taxes had been deducted from his severance paycheck. The briefcase was only partially filled though, and it was the reason he had come out to the forest so late at night.

It was to fill it entirely, and then execute his plan of leaving the city. He had chosen the absolute darkness to move for a larger sense of safety.

The spot he was standing in front of was his personal stash, a large sum of money that he had been saving for his entire life.

It was a large lump sum that he had scrimped for on many occasions, and there had only been three times he had ever withdrawn from it ever since he had begun saving it. He would often come here during the nights to check up on it and insert money into it, which was why he was so familiar with the path.

The money was in hard solid cash – along with all the money he had used – because he had no choice.

There were several prerequisites required to open a bank account. Some of the most major ones were proof of identification granted by the government, but Randolph had none. One would also be required to give their home address, but Randolph couldn't as he lived in an informal settlement, one not officially recognized by the law. It was also the reason Randolph had dropped out of cram school, realizing that he was unable to gain an education without proof of his citizenship.

These problems compounded upon one another like layers, and none of them were simple to resolve. They had to be tackled one-on-one, with a lot of time and some money, but Randolph had neither.

After leaving the city, the young man had planned to use the entire amount. Saving nothing, he would attempt to solve every problem of his before starting a new life. In his stash should have been more than enough.

It was money that he had been saving for such a specific purpose. One that he had long decided that he would use when the urgent need had arisen. It was his very last option, one that he always refused to dip into.

It wasn't as if he had believed he would need it though. In the past, he had simply saved to save.

But that money wasn't a simple matter. It was why he had long refused to touch it, withdrawing from it only three times over the course of his life.

As he had continuously visited to insert money, seeing his stash slowly grow larger, it become something much more. To him, it didn't just represent savings. It represented meaning, and even hope.

When he looked at it, when he came to count it, when he checked up on it, or even when he simply thought of it, it enabled him to continue with life. It was the fruits of his hard work that he felt would bear fruit in the future, representing the time when he was able to spread his wings freely without being shackled down by his job or his living conditions.

But that hope was now gone. It was shattered and dispersed cruelly, in a manner that befitted the way the world worked.

In front of Randolph, in a tiny clearing of the forest, was a fairly deep hole that had been dug into the earth. Several shovels still lay scattered around the edges of the hole or stuck into the dirt, and Randolph could vividly imagine the scene where the diggers had thrown them aside, ecstatic about the jackpot they had found buried in the earth.

Indeed, the hole was completely empty. 

The hole that contained not only Randolph's hard labour over several years, but also his hopes and dreams.

It was exposed to the open air from the above, as if everything had simply floated away into the atmosphere.

Stumbling into the hole, the briefcase in his hands fell to the ground. He dropped to his knees on the dirt below not even noticing the dull pain that throbbed through his torso, or the dirt that stained his fresh clothes.

The moon shone down from overhead, its dim light flooding the small clearing as Randolph looked up at the sky. Closing his good eye, he felt the cold wind brush past his skin.

To him in the hole, the world felt so large. It was the first time in a long time that he had felt so small as he looked up at the moon.

Turning his head back down, Randolph, through his swollen eye, scanned the dirt floor. There was absolutely nothing in it save for some shovels and stone, apart from a small note that had been taped onto one of the shovels planted into the earth. A large mound of the earth had been piled up to the side of the hole.

You dumb mother fucker, did you really think we wouldn't find out?

Upon seeing the note, it was immediately obvious as to who had committed the crime. The loan shark's men must have followed him here at some point, or perhaps he's had a tail on him for the past two months without him noticing.

The only questions that gently floated into Randolph's mind now was, how did they know? When did they find out?

But these were fleeting questions, disappearing into the wind the moment they came forth. Even if he knew, so what? Was there a point in knowing?

His head slumped down and he collapsed backwards onto the floor of the pit.