1. Beowulf

    Beowulf New Member

    Oct 2, 2006
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    hell story

    Discussion in '"I never believed in hell"' started by Beowulf, Dec 22, 2006.

    I never believed in hell, in till I went. It was something of a shocker, I just woke up one day and my house was gone, no kids, no walls, the rain ceased too fall. I just woke up in my bed, and was surrounded by a plain of ash.

    It’s really not all that bad, it’s true; I don’t feel love anymore, but there’s not all that many people to love. Not that many people actually make it down here. You actually have to do a fair amount to get your ticket down here. Sometimes, even killing someone isn’t enough. I’m not sure how many I’ve seen it, butt I’ve been around the block, seen my share of killings, I’ve stood by and watched children on their way to the gallows, and never said a word.

    I remember the last day of my innocence, March 13th, a Friday, 2015. America had lost its war on terror; Baghdad was a lawless blood bath. Avian flue had ridden China of ¾ of its population. And, at the top of the list of modern horrors, was Sam Webb. After the, withdrawal from Iraq and President Barac Obama’s assassination, Sam Webb staged his rebellion. Throughout the newly dubbed “Mother land”, red scare what written on the maps of the United States with the blood of her people.

    Nobody had time to react, nobody knew how well planned the communist over through of our nation was. Most people didn’t even know there was a CPUSA. But there was, and they where no more friendly than the Bolsheviks, and death tolls rose to rival the Holocaust during WWII. My neighbors where some of the first, I don’t remember why, something about political opinions of something. There was a little boy; about nine buy the look of him. I sat on his porch knees locked up to his face, tears draining from his eyes. Two men, in dirty red jackets wearing blank faced white masks dragged the boys mother out onto the lawn, put a bullet in her brain pan, staining the ivory masks red. I turned around and walked back into my house, leaving a nine year old with a pair of blood coated men, when I walked out of my house the next day, the boy greeted me from a tree, neck cocked awkwardly to the side by a noose.

    Those where the first two people I’ve seen die since the 13th of March. I’d go on to see similar occurrences, for seven more years. I remember riding down Main Street when I was a kid, slapping a bumped sticker on every other light post, cause I had a surplus I didn’t know what to do with. During the time of Webb’s tyrannical reign, to ride down Main Street, slapping sticks would be a crime punishable by hanging. Not that you could anyway, the bodies of the offenders and homeless took up most of the empty space on the posts.

    Seven years later, they came to my house, “for sowing discontent among the children of the United Communist States of America”. It was a complete falsehood, but that didn’t matter, it nobody in the neighborhood did anything to provoke their minute tempers, then what where they to do?

    I began and ended in just a few minutes, my eyelashes hadn’t even untangled themselves for me to see when there was a blinding light, a resounding crack, and the most immense pain I had ever felt. I’m unsure of what became of my family, hopefully they where killed as well, and where sent to Heaven.

    I simply woke up what felt like a couple hours after a bullet was put in me, blood soaking my pillow. I placed my hand where my side table should have been, grasped at the empty air and realized. Truly woke up.

    Excising without love isn’t as bad as it sounds, I can’t make friends, maintain relationships or care for anyone else. But, having seen what I’ve seen, and biting my lip to keep from screaming out at the White Masks, I prefer the emptiness that remains without the touch of god.

    Hell honestly isn’t that bad, I suppose if you don’t make it into hell, then you life was probably one where your feelings didn’t tare you apart on an hourly basis, and the absence of love would be tormenting to an amazing extent. However, for the vast majority of people who get into hell, excising without love is the greatest gift. There isn’t even any fire, just a flat plain of black gravel. It can get awfully boring at times, but when that time comes, a demon will, without fail come to end the prelude between beatings. A handsome sum of blood often makes one long for a little boredom. I spend most of my time running, in search of and end to a plain I know doesn’t exist.

    I read a quote somewhere, not sure where, when or who it was buy, but it went something like this.

    “The greatest sin in a time of war is pacifism”

    I guess walking away while a pair of men strung up a nine year old outside my door is why I’m here

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