Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site



The Hell We've Heard, The Hell We've Been Told, The Hell They See, And The Hell They Hide; Truth, Lies, Read To See The Fate Of The Fall...


Submitted:May 4, 2014    Reads: 18    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


The Vision Of Hell - Written By Cristian Villegas
Moving through the bloody, raggedy, broken bones of a thousand hindered souls, burning and melting. Flesh rotten, eyes clouded, throats cut and binds tight. Moving through the hordes, brushing arm by arm, pressing against the ruins of the dead, horrified but calm. The cries, the screams - the fires, the times lost to time, and left for rhyme. They died and now die - beasts consuming them in all; eating the naked women in twos, and sawing through the men from the genitals down with their long nails and wavering teeth. Beasts of size and demons of decrepit skins, dancing and laughing as they destroy the boys and rape the girls.
Looking up above the smoky clouds of chaos the light held bright. Arms waving, skinless fingers breaking. Throats cracked and skulls open - the corpses called. Their brains being eaten piece by piece in an unending feast for the maggots and ticks. Devils of man, rats of the land - sinners of line, defilers of nine. The world had burnt, and the left lay breathing flames, taking the damned beings, harboring horrid things, and engulfing in the crooked demeanor of eternity.
A single horror beyond all stood at the fall, tall and gull; with a face of pigs and goat, a body of serpent and frog, and limbs of man and machine. Pulling the fearful close, gorging on the bodies of naked, pleasing himself to the inside of the lustful, and destroying the existence of the deceitful. Shame came at death, but pain came as his gift. The sinners and their lies, the preachers and their cries, the sons and their highs, and the daughters and their clinging naves. Sold, bought, taken, robbed; crippled, cripple - clinging on, reaching far, praying and saying, living to die, and dying to live. At the floor rested the pools, at the floor rested the sickening pikes, stinking by smell, rusting by blood, and numbed by the deepening mounds.
Red, black, brown; pale, dark, pink - scalped by the bats of hell and dismantled by the roaches of Bal. Enlightened too late, and late to be saved. Forever to die, forever to see the light, forever to be blight. The creed of life taken for granted - the morals of mind shaded and bent. Now the winged fish of the sky and scaled birds of the sea have them all, so in this muck of roaring gas and foggy bastes learn and learn well. Save thyself, save thyself and thyself alone; the pits open wide, showing its teeth and crushing the bitter and engulfing the proud. The mourners are scraped, the meddling are mauled; the miscellaneous things of life, and the trials of the deaf and dumb at heart. The tally is all, and the salvation is none. The paper was painted and the leaves were tainted, so take the words and sing the songs, but the serpent figured goat of man is waiting for you… Like a spider hanging by the thread of web, your life is for the enjoyment of the creator's, and your spark is for the Decrida of the depths… Live, live happy and live long, for that is the only salvation you shall see, and in his belly rests the rest of the glee found at the core of the devils being…
Written By Cristian Villegas
All Rights Reserved To NeutralistIdealist01





0

| Email this story Email this Short story | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.