11th of October (Tower of Repentance)

The Tower of Samongsong

The family had been displaced. After a quiet, bitter war over ancestral land — torn between relatives from the grandmother’s side — they left in search of a new home. Not peace, exactly. Just somewhere to begin again.

"They traveled as one: a mother, a son, two daughters, and the grandmother herself."

They reached a province with a strange tower at its center — cylindrical, glowing, and surrounded by bald, silent monks. The religion here was called Samongsong, and its followers — all men, all bald — stood inside fences, praying silently in the heart of the structure.

"There was no chanting. Only stillness."

The tower seemed welcoming at first. At the ground level, people wandered freely. The air was filled with a bright twilight glow. The sun looked blue, as if the sky had flipped inside out. And around the base of the tower, people stared through windows and doorways into visions.

Each direction offered something different — reflections of what people were longing for: emotional, physical, spiritual fulfillment.

A woman saw her childhood home, untouched by fire.

A man saw his future family.

A young girl saw herself dancing in a city she had never visited.

"The place felt holy. Healing. Safe."

But slowly, the tower began to change. People were drawn upward. Quietly, almost without knowing, they began climbing the levels. That’s when the monks began separating them — assigning tests.

Then, everything turned into chaos. The followers of Samongsong began trapping people inside the tower.

"What started as a peaceful sanctuary became a series of floors testing faith, guilt, and hidden truths."

The Third Tower

The third level of the tower was the most beautiful. It offered sweeping views of distant forests and endless skies. But here, the beauty was a mask. The monks enforced brutal obedience.

Visitors were punished for not wearing yellow, the sacred color of Samongsong. Some wore other colors — blue, red, green — unaware of the rules. For that, they were punished without mercy.

"And the trials became personal."

People were forced to do things they didn’t understand:

Kiss their first love, even if that love was gone or forbidden.

Seek their grandfather, to ask why they were never loved.

Confess unworthy love to their own mothers.

The monks said it was repentance. But it felt more like punishment.

Those who failed the trials were physically tortured. Brutally. The monks demanded final repentance, and then promised release. But no one wanted to pay that price. So they ran. One by one, they escaped, and the test was canceled.

The Brother

The brother moved through the tower searching for his family. His two sisters, his mother, and his grandmother — all lost somewhere between the floors.

He didn’t know where to start.

On the first floor, he found his mother. She was seated before the monks. His task: confess his grudge. Tell her the truth.

So he did. He told her how he resented her for leaning too much on him. For her anxiety. For forcing him to carry more than he could bear. But even then — he told her he loved her unconditionally.

She cried. But the monks stayed silent.

They were testing parents, grandparents — not just children.

On the second floor, it was dark. He searched for his sisters, but only found shadows. The floor was filled with youth — but they were silent. Finished. Their reasons for being there were unknown.

"Their suffering was quiet."

Pandaraya

The monks grew more violent. Someone accidentally spoke the word “Pandaraya” — betrayal. She revealed that the people on the third floor had faked their obedience. For this, the monks demanded she gouge her eyes and cut off her fingers — so she would remember the test, and the sins she tried to hide.

Madness and Sacrifice

The brother escaped the tower. Outside, the blue sun still burned overhead. Across the street, people stood silently — watching them like an audience watches television. No one intervened.

He waited for his family.

His older sister arrived, escaping with her boyfriend. His grandmother was confused, asking over and over: Where are your mother and sister? They hadn’t come out.

Then he saw his mother in the streets.

She was writing on every wall:

“Samongsong”

“Samongsong”

“Samongsong”

Over and over again.

Her face was blank. Confused. No longer herself.

The grandmother confessed what she knew: the mother had taken the test in her place, since the old woman was too frail. The monks had demanded extreme punishment for the grandmother’s sins — so the mother accepted it.

But the test broke her mind.

Still, something was missing.

"The younger sister had never escaped."

The Bride

The brother began to understand. The real test was this: The mother had been forced to choose — to sacrifice one of her daughters to become the bride of Samongsong, the spiritual offering of the faith. The monks tortured her: mentally, physically, spiritually — until she gave in.

Now, the younger sister was still inside. Alone. On the second floor, trapped with the monks. Being converted. Being erased.

The brother, filled with rage, waited — hoping she would appear.

But she didn’t.

So he turned back toward the tower.

And Then

"He woke up."

Real Life

In real life:

His older sister is getting married soon, to her long-time boyfriend.

His mother suffers from anxiety.

The brother harbors unspoken resentment as the family’s breadwinner — but still loves her deeply.

His grandmother is bedridden, fading.

His younger sister is away at school.

The tower is gone.

"But he still remembers it."

The Weird Things He Can't Forget:

The tower was cylindrical, glowing, with monks praying silently behind fences. The sun was blue, and the light felt like eternal dusk.

People weren’t strangers — they were familiar. Everyone meant something. A river ran backwards behind the tower. People jumped into it to escape.

On the third floor, a trial involved kissing your first love — which, he realized, might have been a symbol of his gender crisis from younger years.

The monks also “tested sodomy” — a cruel reflection of religious shame. He doesn't know if it was just a dream. But the tower still feels real.

Ending note

"Just another episode of the dreamscape, where heroes are victims — of their own reality.."