All along the Watchtower

"Within yourself deliverance must be searched for, because each man makes his own prison."
-Edwin Arnold

It was the Worst Secret in History. For this, there could be no explanation. If known, no pair of friendly eyes would ever view him again. He was the Fool of all fools. Around his head he carried a giant albatross of shame. It was an un-shareable shame. And thus became a prison.

Five times it happened. Five horrible, unspeakable times. Just once would have been enough to brand him with a lifetime of shame. But five times? Unthinkable. Now it was to the point where even he wished to see himself mocked and tormented - maybe even dead. He bore a stupidity no man could bear.

A twisted pride ruled his life. He kept wondering why. Was it a self-sabotage thing like he had read about once? Was God controlling him, making him stupid, like He did Pharaoh? It was like the more he got, the more defiant he became - the classic fool. Was it really just as simple as that? But how could it happen five times without ever learning anything? There was no choice to but believe the worst in himself.

It was a liar's dream. His circumstance was one so absurd as to not even be contemplated. No one could possibly be suspected of such a crime. In fact, most would argue a man such as him could not even exist. The odds alone were not thought to be possible. And the only thing more unlikely than that would be his foolish reponses.

"No one must know!" was his tortured mantra. This shame must be hidden at any cost. And the threat of exposure was like living with a loaded gun to your head. And yet, he knew. If he were exposed and was forced to forever dwell on what he lost... he may have to chuck it all in. There wasn't much left to him anyway.

Could there be another chance? Probably not. And with his track record, did he really want another? Better just to live in silent infamy. He kept vain hopes that somehow his own self-recriminations could replace his true punishment. In this way he hoped to avoid responsiblity.

But reality is its own master. No amount of self-reproach would change his fate. Yet he kept trying till his dying day. Always confused, always wondering what had got into him. He died with his secrets and thus died alone. And rarely - only rarely - could he bear to think what life would have been if he had cashed even one of his five winning lottery jackpot tickets.

He had burned them all. He had to prove he was right. "God wants me dead." To show God the correctness of his stance, each ticket was destroyed immediately after its purchase. Prayers were made but not a bone in his body believed he could win. And he made his belief true.