My name is Martin, and I’m just 23 years old. That day, I was walking with my best friend when a beggar, sitting by the sidewalk, suddenly called us over. I had no intention of stopping—I wasn’t in the mood to give any stranger money—but curiosity got the better of me. I decided to approach him, just to see what he wanted. My friend followed along, laughing at my decision.
When we reached him, instead of asking for money, the beggar stretched out his hand and gave me something—money. I was confused and looked at my friend, sarcastically asking, “Have beggars started giving people money now?”
My friend chuckled and replied, “Looks like this beggar is rich!”
The beggar’s eyes locked with mine. His gaze was intense, and his voice was eerily cold as he spoke: “Take that money. Use it to buy your coffin, because you have just three days left.”
My body tensed with disbelief. Who was this beggar to say such a thing to me? Anger surged through me as I reached out and knocked his head hard. “Are you sick?” I shouted, my voice rising. “Who do you think you’re intimidating? God will punish you for real!”
People around us stared, but I didn’t care. I grabbed the money from his hand, still furious, and stormed off, wanting to show him that I wasn’t scared of his words. Imagine—how could I, a young, healthy man, be scared of a beggar telling me I would die in three days? I thought it was ridiculous. He was just some sick, crazy person who had no business telling me what to do.
But as the day went on, something strange began to stir inside me. That night, I couldn’t shake the feeling. It wasn’t that I was terrified, but there was something unsettling about what had happened. I couldn’t help but wonder why I was even thinking about the words of a beggar, and why his prophecy bothered me so much.
My friend, however, seemed unbothered. He took the money from my hand and went out to buy some food. He laughed at the whole situation, clearly not taking it seriously at all. But me? I couldn’t spend the money. I didn’t want to touch it. The weight of it in my pocket felt like a heavy burden I couldn’t escape.
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