I have nothing left. I have no money to buy myself out of here. I have no friends who could help. I have no safe space where I could hide. I still have the tablet I am writing on, but no way to recharge it. Once the battery runs out, I won’t even have light. I’ll be trapped down here in the dark, listening to the thing behind the metal door as it tries to force its way out. Claws scraping over metal - howling and shrieking - those will be the last sounds I hear in this world.
I have nothing, but I still have hope.
I still have hope, and that’s the most terrifying thing of them all.
-
You could buy hope from a fortune teller at a local fair. It was early summer. I had not wanted to go to the fair, but some friends had forced me to tag along. I had also not wanted to enter the fortune teller’s tent, but the old woman had promised me my money back if I was left dissatisfied by her reading, and so I had given in. Maybe screwing her out of her pay would lighten my mood, or so I thought at the time. Now I was sitting in front of her, while her fingers brushed over the tarot cards laid out in front of her.
“Hmm. I can see it all clearly. Your destiny is in the cards,” She said, and flipped the first card. “The ace of pentacles. Wealth - money - opportunity… The picture is becoming clearer. Yes - You have just graduated business school - top of your class - and you have worked out a foolproof plan to make money. It will make you rich. It will lead you right to the top.” She flipped open the next card.
“The tower… Danger - change - disruption. You are at the crossroads of your life - about to embark into the real world. Success and failure are so close together. Ah! I can see it -… you are planning something. Something big… You need money… You are about to meet people - wealthy people - people you need to convince to invest in your plans, and you are worried…”
She glanced up at me, to gauge my reaction, but I just rolled my eyes. She had been absolutely correct with her entire prediction, which would have been impressive if it wasn’t for the fact that one of my drunken college buddies had been in here just before me. He had probably spent the entire time complaining about my sour mood, inadvertently feeding this old trickster all of this information. Maybe she had hoped to impress me with this little trick. Maybe that’s why she had promised me my money back to begin with.
She instantly picked up on the fact that her little game wasn’t working. With swift motion she swiped the cards from the table separating the two of us. Her face remained neutral.
“You are afraid,” she said, and leaned closer. “You are worried you might not be able to convince these people. You are worried you might fail - something that has never happened to you before. I can help though. You already have everything you need. You are only lacking one thing. One single thing. Hope!” She twirled her hand, and when her fingers unfolded, a single box of matches was suddenly resting on her palm. “You just need a little push - something to give your confidence a boost. Hope will do that. Hope…”
“Right,” I said, drawing out the world. I rolled my eyes again. The woman motioned for me to take the matchbox. It felt light. I slid it open. Empty. - “Wow,” I said. “How impressive.”
“There’s nothing in there yet, obviously,” she answered. “We need to fill it first. Just keep looking into the box. Now picture the meeting with your investors. Imagine yourself successful and convincing. Really paint a mental picture of the scene.”
“Uh hu,” I said, taking a huge annoyed breath.
“No. Really picture it in your head. Describe the scene. Tell me exactly what you see. What kind of clothes are the people you are talking to wearing? What kinds of expressions are they making? What are they saying? How does the room smell? …”
It went on like this for at least twenty minutes. I’d describe the scene, and the fortune teller would ask me a barrage of little questions about what I was imagining. Then she’d start the whole exercise again - and again - and again… Finally she stopped. Her gaze focused on the matchbox. Her hand darted forward. She snatched it from my fingers, quickly enclosing it in her fist, while whispering some sort of chant. She held the fist close to her mouth for a moment, while her whispers took on more and more of a steady rhythm. After half a minute she opened her fingers once more. The matchbox appeared unchanged.
“There. Now it is full. Full of hope. Take a look. Only open it a crack though. You don’t want all the hope to just escape, do you?”
“No. Of course not. That would be such a terrible tragedy.” I took the matchbox. It still felt just as light as it had before. I had expected that she had at least some slight of hand to exchange it with a different box, but this one seemed just as empty as it had been before. I opened it. “Oh wow. Would you look at that… Nothing. How impressive. So - are we finally done he-”
I stopped mid-sentence. Something was happening. The matchbox was still empty and ordinary, but the longer I stared into it, the more I could feel a scene forming before my inner eyes. It was the very same scene the old woman had made me picture over and over again. I had done it so often, merely looking into the box made me imagine it automatically.
“Huh…” I said to myself. I closed the matchbox, then opened it again. The same thing happened. Close. Open. Close. Open. It happened every time. I scratched my head. “Oh! I get it. It’s like some sort of hypnotic trigger. Gotta admit - that’s a nice little trick..”
“You can call it whatever you like,” she answered. “But it’s hope. Something we all need. It will help you as well. Too much of anything is a bad thing though, so be sure to keep your hopes realistic and grounded. If you let this get too big… -” She gestured at the matchbox “- … it’ll really start messing with your head. You can keep it for free. Only if you were satisfied with my reading, of course. So? Are you satisfied, or would you like your money back?”
-
Turns out the old fortune teller was right. I had only needed a little boost in confidence, and the matchbox provided me with just that. One look inside, and I would relive the scene of my success, standing between the smiling faces of my new business partners, shaking their hands as they fought among each other to be the first to sign with me.
The actual meeting didn’t end up going as smooth and effortless as that of course. A few of my potential backers had some worries, but just when it seemed that they might back out, I pulled out the matchbox, and peeked inside beneath the table. Instantly a renewed mental strength bloomed inside my mind. I knew what I had to do to convince them.
I promised them even higher returns than I had initially alluded to. There was not a trace of doubt in my words, and this show of resolve was the last push needed to get them on my side. When the meeting ended, I had secured half a million dollars in seed money to get me started.
Why stop there though? The more investment money I could get, the higher the returns. I scheduled another meeting, using my dad’s business contacts to invite even more people. I had already cleared the first hurdle. It would be easy to convince even more people of my plan, and if anybody else turned out to be skeptical, I could always just promise higher profits. My initial projection had been rather conservative after all.
Was there some risk of failure? Of course. There always is. Nobody gets ahead by playing things entirely safe. You have to take a little gamble here and there, and that’s just what I did. I took a little gamble.
-
It went on like this for two months. New money flowed in every day, and my venture grew. So did my funds. I had cracked seven figures by now, and was quickly expanding at a rapid pace. Everything was perfect. Everything except for the little fact that my measly profits lagged behind my lofty promises. I was making money, but it was far less than what my investors were expecting. Would they start withdrawing their funding? Would my business venture fail in its infancy?
My sour mood was back. I kept relying more and more heavily on the matchbox full of hope to keep it up, but it got harder and harder to do so. Every evening I would sit on my desk and crunch the numbers, and when they once more didn’t come up right, I’d take the box out and peek inside. It felt heavier by now, and its cardboard walls were bulging outward, as if something inside was slowly gaining size. It was just as empty as on the day I bought it though. There was nothing in there - nothing except those luring fantasies.
The visions were just as strong as they had always been, but they just weren’t enough to lift my spirit anymore. I had more pressing problems. I had bigger concerns. I needed something more. I needed something stronger. I needed more hope to get me through this. More hope…
And so - on one fateful evening - I took a metal tin of cookies, dumped its content onto the desk, then threw the opened matchbox inside before quickly slamming the lid shut. There… Now my hope would have more room to grow.
It was a purely symbolic act of course. There wasn’t actually anything in that matchbox that could grow after all. It was all just a little mental trick. - That’s what I told myself at least. On some level I must have already believed that there was something in that box - something that was getting bigger - something alive…
The next morning I peeked into the cookie tin. Empty - just as expected. There was only the little matchbox. It had somehow opened completely over the course of the night, but before I could wonder how that might have happened, I was struck by another vision. This one was stronger than any I had experienced before. I could see it all so clearly. Of course… How could I have not seen it before?
The market always fluctuates. There’s ups and downs. Currently we were just stuck in a little downward slide, and yet I was still making money. That meant I’d be making even more once the market turned in my favor. I could see it happening. I could see the curves turning - red numbers switching to green ones, profits rolling in - more than I had ever dared to dream of…
It was about to happen. It would happen any day now. The vision made me feel absolutely certain about that. I just needed to make sure my current investors wouldn’t jump ship before it all came to pass… I just needed to pretend that the earnings were already this high…
I could trick them. It would be easy. I could take some of the newly incoming money, cook the books a little, and present it as profit instead of actually investing it. That wouldn’t exactly be legal, of course, but that was of little concern. Once the market turned, I could easily patch up any discrepancies. Everybody would be happy once that happened.
It was a lot more risky than anything I had done before. If my plan failed, I wouldn’t just go bankrupt, I would be facing criminal charges. This was all part of the game though. If things get though, you bend the rules. You gamble big. That’s what you need to do if you want to get rich. That’s how all the rich people do it all the time.
I looked into the cookie tin again, took in the vision, and then I took a gamble.
-
Things shifted for the better, things shifted for the worse, and when things went really bad, I refunneled even more money to hide my losses. I took credits from the bank. I convinced my father to invest most of the family fortune into my business. It would all work out in the end. I was utterly convinced that it would. The market would turn in my favor. Any day now. It was about to happen any day…
Hope continued to grow. By now there was no denying that it was more than a mental trick. Hope was real. The fortune teller had actually caught something, and trapped it for me, and now it was quickly gaining size. The cookie tin was heavy, as if filled with stones. The metal walls were dented in dozens of places, and more dents appeared every day. I started to wrap duct tape around it, to keep hope trapped inside, but the container was reaching its limits.
My business was reaching its limits as well. I had strayed further and further along the trajectory of fraud and embezzlement, fueled by the hope that some sudden change in the market would turn the tides and clean the whole mess up. That was becoming increasingly unlikely.
Barely any of the money I was operating with was actually invested any more. I needed all of it to keep my little web of deception from falling apart, constantly shifting it back and forth to patch up holes, only to tear even bigger ones in the process. If I had more, I could make some more daring investments - high risk, high return - but there wasn’t even enough for this kind of desperate measure. It wasn’t enough. I needed more. More. More. More money. More hope.
I transferred Hope into a large reinforced travel suitcase, wrapped in iron chains. Maybe if it was stronger it’d clear my mind of worries long enough to think of a way out. I paced through the room and nervously stared at the suitcase, as it began shaking and trembling. Crunching and cracking sounded from within. The noise growing louder and louder. It went like this for hours, and when it finally quieted down, I dared to unlock it to peek inside.
Instantly the suitcase was flung open by some massive force. Luckily the chains were in place to keep it from opening completely. The iron links grew taut from the internal pressure, while an angry scream roared out at me. Something squirmed and raged in the darkness. A thousand insectile feet clawed against every inch of the little prison. Then all fell silent. I had flung myself away from the suitcase, and was now clinging to the wall on the other side of the room. My heart was beating like crazy. It took me a few minutes until I dared to approach the container.
Empty.
The suitcase was empty, safe for the twisted remnants of the cookie tin - now barely recognizable - just a chunk of metal that seemed to have been crushed between sharp teeth and ripped apart by massive claws. There was nothing else in there.
And then the vision hit me.
I saw my face look back at me from the cover of the Financial Times. The main article lauded me as the new prodigy of the investment world - a genius - the next great thing. It told the story of how I had overcome certain bankruptcy, clawing my way to success and prosperity through sheer willpower and inborn skill. I had faced down hardship, and came out the other end as a multi-millionaire.
When the dream faded I found myself lying on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling with a dazed expression, drooling from the corner of my mouth. There was a huge smile plastered on my face, and a lightness in my mind that I hadn’t felt in weeks. I knew at that moment that everything would be alright in the end. Things were looking grim now, but that just meant I needed to take even more risks.
All the visionary leaders who had risen to glory from nothing had faced the same moment of struggle and uncertainty that I found myself in right now. This was the moment that separated the chosen ones from the rest. I could back down, accept my punishment like a cowardly criminal, or I could double-down, and dare for something greater. The vision was still playing in front of my eyes. I knew what I had to choose. I was destined for greatness. Eventually I would succeed.
I needed fresh cash first. I already had taken several credits from the major banks. Taking any more of them might lead to some awkward questions. Somebody might decide to take a closer look at my books. I couldn’t allow that to happen. Luckily there were a lot of other places you could turn for a credit - places that were a lot less reputable, and a lot more ruthless when it came to collecting.
I didn’t care about any of that. I could accept their crushing interest rates. I only needed the cash for a little while to kick-start my business back to life. One or two weeks down the line I would have made enough to pay them back with ease. It was a gamble for sure, but I had already taken some major gambles. What did I really have to lose? I was just another gamble…
–
I fell short on my first attempt to get out of the hole I had dug for myself into. This didn’t matter though. There were other loan sharks out there. I could just try again, and again, and again… It was easy to ignore the angry letters. It was easy to ignore the phone calls, and the death treats and the screaming creditors trying to chase me down.
It was easy to ignore everything, until I woke up one morning to the stench of gasoline and fire. Thick smoke drifted through my bedroom window. A burning wreck of metal stood in my driveway. Somebody had climbed the fence to my home, and set fire to my brand new Mercedes.
As I watched the firemen douse the flickering flames, I felt reality slowly catch up with me. I was deeper in debt than ever, and the people I owed money to by now would not be content with simply suing me. These were the kind of people who didn’t bother with lawyers. These were the kind of people who would break my kneecaps, harvest my body for organs, toss me from a bridge with a pair of cement shoes, …
I ran up to my office, pulled out every ledger, and scattered documents all over the floor, searching for any kind of asset I could turn into cash. Five million. If I let go of everything I could still scrape together five million. That would have been a staggering sum of money a few months ago. By now it wasn’t even enough to pay back my worst creditors.
What options did I even have anymore? I could take the money, get a fake passport, flee the country, try to rebuild my life somewhere far away. What kind of life would that be though? A life of constant fear. A life on the run from both the police and the mob. A life without prospects. A life in which I’d be forever barred from living up to my potential. How long until those five million would run out? What would I do then?
I suddenly found myself standing in the cellar beneath my house. My subconscious had led me down here all on its own. I was standing in front of the hidden old boiler room. A thick iron door was blocking my path. I had just installed it. The suitcase had grown too small for Hope. It was living in this room by now.
I could hear it moving behind the walls as if reacting to my presence. My hair stood on edge. Every sense within me screamed danger, yet I found myself stepping even closer, until I could press my eye against the spy hole of the otherwise featureless door.
It happened in an instant. One moment I was standing down there in the dark cellar, sweating and shaking, the next I was suddenly sitting on a sofa in a stylish apartment, looking down onto the city from the top floor of its tallest sky-scraper. A group of beautiful people were surrounding me, men and women alike. They leaned closer as I told the story of my most daring feat. I was just reaching the part where I was chased by the mob, utterly bankrupt and out of options. This was where my bad luck had turned around. My listeners held their breath as I reached the climax.
I let them hang for a moment, making a show of sampling the expensive wine instead of continuing. It tasted nearly as sweet and delicious as all of the flattering compliments my companions launched at me to make me continue with my story. It felt so real, I nearly forgot it was a mere fantasy for a moment, but then it ended. I was back in the cellar.
It had only been a dream, but it had still taken away my panic. I was filled once more with the focused determination that had gotten me this far. I knew exactly what to do. I could have all the money I needed - all in a single day. All it would take was one more gamble.
One more gamble…
-
Two hours later I stepped out of the rented limo, clutching a briefcase tightly to my chest. It contained what remained of my money - the entire five million. I swallowed, gathered my strength, and entered the casino with my head held high and a confident smile on my face.
I headed straight to the roulette table. No need to delay the inevitable. This was it. All on red. Everything on this one lucky toss. The wheel spun. The little ball danced across the surface, clicking and rolling. I could focus on nothing else. This ball was my entire world right now. All my senses were completely focused on its erratic motions. Up and down and jumping back and forth from one color to the other - red - black - red - black… The wheel was slowing down. The moment of truth came closer and closer. Red - black - red - black… RED!
I doubled forward. Red. Red. RED! I had won. This would be enough. It wouldn’t be enough to pay back everyone, but enough to get the loan sharks off my back. I wouldn’t get stabbed to death by a bunch of mobsters after all… but I would still go to prison… My whole fraudulent venture would collapse, and they’d drag me to court, and I’d be convicted…
My life was still effectively over. Sure - I’d be living and breathing and walking around, but that bright future I had dared to imagine would never come to pass. I needed something better. I needed more. Maybe I could… If I bet it all again…All on red… If I managed to win one more time… What did I really have to lose? I had to do it. Another gamble. I had to.
Another gamble.
All on red.
The wheel spun. The ball danced. I was clutching the rim of the table. It was the only way I could remain standing upright. Everything was spinning. Dark dots seemed to dance in front of my eyes. I couldn’t breathe. I could barely even see what was going on. My entire world was reduced to two colors. Red - black - red - black -… RED! RED!!! RED!!!!!
I was screaming in triumph, jumping up and down, my hands held up into the air, unable to contain the powerful rush of dopamine flooding my brain. I had won. This was enough. I’d be able to take care of my bad credits, and then there would still be enough to give my investors their money back - not as much as I had promised them, but they’d all at least break even. It would be enough to keep people from looking too closely at what had been going on. It would be enough to keep them from suing me.
I’d still be personally bankrupt of course. I had lost most of the family fortune on my whole scheme after all. I still had an excellent degree though. I could easily get a well-paying job. It wasn’t what I had dreamed of. I had wanted to make it all on my own. I had wanted to prove myself. Back at college I had always been so much better than all of those idiots, and now they would sneer at me, when I came crawling back. So shameful. So humiliating. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. I was so much better than all of them…
And yet this was how it had to happen. I had no other option. Unless…
I licked my lips. The dopamine was still lingering in my mind, causing a warm prickling feeling to spread through my entire body. My eyes darted down at the roulette table. If I got lucky just one more time, I could have everything I ever wanted and more. It would be just like I had always dreamed. I would prove to them all how great I was.
Hope’s vision still danced fresh in my mind. I could still hear the laughter, could still feel the attentive eyes resting on me, could still taste the sweet wine on my tongue. I just needed to get lucky one more time. Just once more. One more gamble…
One more gamble…
One more gamble…
-
When the men broke down the door of my house I had already hidden down in the cellar. I could hear them stomp through the rooms above me. Glass shattered. Wood broke. They were wrecking everything, searching for any hints to my current whereabouts. The brutal noises were a frightening reminder of what they would do once they found me. I was listening to something even more terrifying though. Hope had started moving behind the metal door once more.
It had grown rapidly over the course of a single night. Its massive form slammed against the door. Caws and teeth dug into the metal, and then there were its screams… Those screams were the worst part of it. They sounded like a thousand voices twined together, shouting out in agony and death.
Hope screamed louder and louder. The walls shook from its attempts to break free. Any moment now the men upstairs would hear the sounds, and they would follow them down here to my hiding place. It was only a matter of seconds. And yet they never even reacted. It was as if I was the only one able to hear those screams.
At some point the hellish sounds died down. Hope stopped its enraged struggles, and the men above stopped trashing my apartment. They were all still there of course. Hope was still looming behind the iron door, gathering new strength, and the men were still up there, waiting for me to return.
I could have called the cops, but that would only have delayed the inevitable. Instead I took out my tablet, and began composing my last message to the world. That’s where we are right now.
-
Things have been silent while I was writing - for the most part at least. Sometimes there are impatient footsteps above. Sometimes Hope stirs, and the screams start once more, and I push into the corner of the room, as far away from the door as possible, clutching my ears. It’s the most terrifying sound I have ever heard - a thousand overlapping voices crying out in agony, and the worst part is that they all sound exactly like my own.
But when I dare to crawl closer to the door - when I dare to press my eye against the spy hole - when I dare to actually look into the room - then I can suddenly see that there is nothing to fear. These are not my screams. They are the screams of my enemies. I can see it all so clearly whenever I look in there. The vision is so real.
My enemies run and cower and try to hide, and Hope walks among them, constantly shifting its form. One moment it takes the form of a majestic eagle with ebony talons, the next it is a black dog with rubies instead of eyes, then it is a giant man with skin of gold - and it takes anybody who dares to oppose me, and it slices them open, and it rips them apart, and it crushes them, and there I am right next to it, standing on a pile of their corpses - untouchable - victorious - god-like…
That’s the vision I am shown whenever I peek into the room, and it could come true. It could all come true. It would be so easy. I just need to open this door. I just need to let Hope out, so that it can walk by my side, and protect me, and serve me…
I have nothing left. I have no money to buy myself out of here. I have no friends who could help. I have no safe space where I could hide.
I have nothing, but I still have hope.
I still have hope, and I have the key to its prison.
…
One last gamble…