Judas sat alone on a hill, his back against a tree, watching from afar as a procession made its way up the opposite hill. His heart was heavy with guilt and shame.

He reached for the pouch at his tunic, feeling its weight. Inside were thirty pieces of silver - the price of his betrayal. His fingers trembled as he looked inside.

To his horror, he saw maggots and worms instead of coins. Throwing the pouch in disgust, he realized it was a trick of his troubled mind. The coins were real, but his guilt was more substantial.

As he picked up the coins, he noticed spots on his palms. The silver coins seemed to rot his flesh just as his betrayal had rotted his soul. He was aghast and terrified.

Judas threw the pouch as far as he could, tears streaming down his face. He had given up everything, sold his soul, betrayed the greatest man he had ever known.

His betrayal had led to the death of the Son of God. And all for what? Thirty pieces of silver he couldn't even touch, let alone use. The realization was tormenting.

His gaze turned towards the other hill, where three crosses now stood. People were hanging from them. The scene was a stark reminder of his irreversible actions.

He whispered into the wind, 'It's done. There is no coming back from this.' The wind carried his words away, leaving him alone with his guilt and regret.