The process takes years. I felt sin leaching out, drawn by the purity of the salt around me. I am bleached, the blemishes of soul and body pulled out and trapped, replaced with clarity and cubic perfection.
It was my thirteenth year in the barrels when I understood. It began at the fingers and toes. Dryness, cracking, splintering. Jagged crystalline pain. The salt reached further, through skin and muscle to bone, and beyond. Agony, white and pure. I have nothing more to give it, but still it thirsts.
Will I die when it reaches my heart?
What if I don’t?
Showing posts with label eternal punishment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eternal punishment. Show all posts
Monday, November 7, 2011
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Nor Hope of Heaven Nor Fear of Hell
Long one today. I felt like there were too many ideas to fit this one into a hundred words, and it's one I really wanted to write. Hope y'all find it interesting.
---
It was a pitiable corner of Hell, a singular accomplishment in a landscape whose very existence was a lament and a curse. He tried not to feel too sorry for himself as he listened to his soul-flesh sizzle on the hot rocks of the cave; he'd certainly endured worse in his time here, and this, at least, was quiet.
After a time that might have been ten minutes or might have been a half-century, he became aware of a niggling sensation... of boredom. It grew from a momentary itch to an appalling fire in what seemed to be only moments, no matter how he distracted himself with new and interesting burn patterns on his singed buttocks. Perhaps that was the ultimate horror of this part of the Pit: to drive souls back into torment as into blessed release from the grip of ennui.
That was when he heard the sniveling.
Straining to see in the sulfurous fumes and amid spires of pitch-black rock, the soul saw a tiny blot of something still darker. A demon! Albeit one as sad and uninteresting as its tiny demesne. Perhaps a demon as puny as that would be able to inflict only similarly puny tortures; and that, he reflected, would be more interesting than crouching in a dark corner.
"Hallo!" he called, with cheeriness that surprised even himself. "It appears I've lost my way."
Red eyes flashed briefly, quickly covered once more with a scaly hand. "Go away."
"Hardly welcoming," said the soul. "It's not as though you've any other souls to flay."
The demon's voice was like rusty wire and sour milk. "Go away. I have neither pity nor anger to spare for you."
"Of course," said the soul. "Yearning for Heaven, whence you fell. Do you crave readmittance or simply destruction? I've met all sorts."
"Neither."
"Neither? You're happy here?"
"Of course not," the demon snapped. "This is Hell. But I prefer it here, where I know I am meant for suffering."
"And is Heaven not conversely meant for pleasure?"
The weary red eyes flickered into view again, momentarily. "Not for everyone."
---
It was a pitiable corner of Hell, a singular accomplishment in a landscape whose very existence was a lament and a curse. He tried not to feel too sorry for himself as he listened to his soul-flesh sizzle on the hot rocks of the cave; he'd certainly endured worse in his time here, and this, at least, was quiet.
After a time that might have been ten minutes or might have been a half-century, he became aware of a niggling sensation... of boredom. It grew from a momentary itch to an appalling fire in what seemed to be only moments, no matter how he distracted himself with new and interesting burn patterns on his singed buttocks. Perhaps that was the ultimate horror of this part of the Pit: to drive souls back into torment as into blessed release from the grip of ennui.
That was when he heard the sniveling.
Straining to see in the sulfurous fumes and amid spires of pitch-black rock, the soul saw a tiny blot of something still darker. A demon! Albeit one as sad and uninteresting as its tiny demesne. Perhaps a demon as puny as that would be able to inflict only similarly puny tortures; and that, he reflected, would be more interesting than crouching in a dark corner.
"Hallo!" he called, with cheeriness that surprised even himself. "It appears I've lost my way."
Red eyes flashed briefly, quickly covered once more with a scaly hand. "Go away."
"Hardly welcoming," said the soul. "It's not as though you've any other souls to flay."
The demon's voice was like rusty wire and sour milk. "Go away. I have neither pity nor anger to spare for you."
"Of course," said the soul. "Yearning for Heaven, whence you fell. Do you crave readmittance or simply destruction? I've met all sorts."
"Neither."
"Neither? You're happy here?"
"Of course not," the demon snapped. "This is Hell. But I prefer it here, where I know I am meant for suffering."
"And is Heaven not conversely meant for pleasure?"
The weary red eyes flickered into view again, momentarily. "Not for everyone."
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Dwindle
"It seems like Sisyphus got the raw deal," I said, watching him push.
"His is round," the man said.
"Yeah, but he's going to be pushing that thing up the hill forever. Your ice block is already melting."
He paused. I felt the chill radiating from the massive ice block. "Yes. It melts a little more every hour, a little faster every day. One day it will be gone, and my task will be complete."
"Then what?"
He looked at me, and I saw a dark and feral fear haunting those eyes. "My task will be complete. I will remain."
"His is round," the man said.
"Yeah, but he's going to be pushing that thing up the hill forever. Your ice block is already melting."
He paused. I felt the chill radiating from the massive ice block. "Yes. It melts a little more every hour, a little faster every day. One day it will be gone, and my task will be complete."
"Then what?"
He looked at me, and I saw a dark and feral fear haunting those eyes. "My task will be complete. I will remain."
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