2019-05
And so it was decreed. Now, accepting your rebellion you proudly march through the gates of Hell. Straight backed in defiance of this God and His rule. The gates clang to, a welcome sound as you no longer have to deal with those pesky lovers of God, always trying to help, always pleading for repentance. Pah! What do they know. Now you are free, you can cast off all restraint and indulge in all the pleasures.
You see a little way in a banquette of indulgence. So, with your proud companions you make your way there. As you approach you find an unruly crowd. No matter, you think, and push your way in. Fighting to get to the table. You reach the sumptuous fruit and bite deep.
But ash fills your mouth. What! You grab a different pleasure and drink deep, but only gall. You reach for a third but your friend pulls you back, wrestling to get to your target. You hit him he bites you you grab him and break his neck. Yet he does not die, just goes limp in agony, his fierce eyes hating you.
At this table there is no pleasure and the frantic pursuit has brought only hatred. Even your friend hates you and you destroyed him. Ah, perhaps it is better alone in this place. Besides you are great right?
As you wonder off your thoughts grow noisy each shouting for audience, each desire screaming for gratification. But there is none to be had. But there is none to be had, so you run. Aimlessly running, running from yourself, running from others, running from pleasure, running from a vague terror.
As the air stings your mouth and you have the partial relief of exhaustion you notice the rising dawn. Ah perhaps in the light all will be better? The sun peaks over the horizon and its first gentle rays pierce like burning swords. As the sun moves the very earth begins to smoulder. Yet still it rises. As its face is shown your skin begins to melt. As its light waxes full your body is set ablaze!
The agony is great. The anguish rises. The pain increases and your scream mounts in excruciated exclamation: AAaaaa ...
Yet you still live. The scream ran out but the agony still waxes. You run to a boulder thinking "it will cover me" yet as you grasp it it melts into smoke. Perhaps a man can offer some shade? So back you flea to that writhing crowd. All are screaming all cower.
You hesitate, the light exposing their distorted shapes. But then the torment drives you on. You grab your mortal friend and use his twisted form as a shield against the unbearable light. But he casts no shadow.
You see yourself in all your shame, grotesque and pathetic. Who am I? You grab hold of the table to impale yourself. Again, again again you try but. Death. Will. Not. Come.
So you flea again. Running running to the gate. You fight through the hideous forms to the solid wood and find
It is Shut.