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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/614040-The-Wretched
by Hamish
Rated: 18+ · Article · Spiritual · #614040
The afterlife of the wicked
I opened my eyes. There was a perpetual beat growing louder, getting faster. My body was being separated from my mind. I could see lights flashing all around me in a blur. There was a pounding in my chest, head, my whole body, but there was no pain. Everything was clear. The throbbing feeling was getting soft, quieter. I closed my eyes and let the air embrace my sickening desires to fall. To witness the end, To find myself, To die.
Everything was black. I fell into a haze of silence, no sounds. No memory of what was before, only now. I continued to fall through what was seemed to be eternity. The vastness of the emptiness was enough to make a man mad. Far in the distance I could see red; a single red dot. Within a tiny moment the red had completely enveloped me. I saw millions upon millions of floating, blood red human like figures all with featureless faces. Completely empty, no eyes, no nose, no mouth, no ears. They had gashes and holes in their flesh spewing blood in all directions, their blood floating in place as it did. None of them moved, they all lay there floating, bleeding. I looked forward and saw one floating slowly toward me, I tried to struggle. The deathlike figure floated closer still. When it was just in arms reach, it slowed and stopped in mid-air. Nothing moved. Heaven froze. I stared at where the face should have been and saw blank. No emotion. Slowly two spots of blood appeared where the eyes should be and trickled down the empty face. Two slits slowly ripped themselves open from the blood spots. Blood poured now. The lacerating stopped. I saw no movement. I looked closer. Two eyes open from the gashes and lay staring at me. I saw death and hate in the bloodshot eyes; all that was evil was watching me.

I felt no fear.

Within a second, all disappeared. The ocean of shadow again surrounded me. I heard a faint voice, women’s voice, only distorted by a deathly gargle deep in the throat. I turned to see an even darker outline in my already pitch black surrounding. Wide-eyed and limp. Again the bloodshot eyes and the same evil staring out at me from beneath her hair, ripping into my soul. Blood was leaking through her lips and dripping into the deep dark. As her body float near, details became clear. Her hair was black and greasy resting on her shoulders, her bangs covering her eyes, the tattered clothing which covered most of her body, was rough, dirty and showed signs of its age. Pale white hands and feet protruded long, slender toes and fingers with nails grown long and twisted. Gashes ran up her forearm to her hands and from her shins to her feet, infected, bleeding and scabbing. A tiny slit for a mouth and a small button nose reveled no expression on the death white face.

I felt no fear.

She lifted head ever so slightly and as she did, the hate in her eyes receded. She now stares with a pitifully innocent and scarred look, as if she may have been crying. She reached her hand up to her mouth and gently removed the blood from her lips smearing it onto her sleeve. A brief smile tugged at the ends of her lips and then also recedes. She reached her arm slowly towards me and grazed my cheek with her fingers rubbing a streak of blood onto my face.

The hate in her eyes revived and her innocent look morphed into an almost inhuman look of rage. She grasped the back of my head digging her nails into my skull. Blood pour down her hand and arm. She drew close and cocked my head to the side sinking her teeth into my neck.

I was afraid.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/614040-The-Wretched