Hell is the Dark

You awake in the waves of a gravel beach.

All is absent of light except a dim maroon sky.

Basalt cliffs loom over, watching you rise,

And wet garments weigh you down.

Your skin meets a sharp chill of soot polluted wind which howls angelic cacophonies.

As you lift yourself, joints ache, bones creak, 

and the brain screams in throbbing agony.

Through the assault, a cavern to the side whistles in a deep pitch, making itself known.

It calls; beckons; names itself safe.

But it’s deceitful. It’s hungry.

Void surrounds you.

No devils, no cambions, no drop of viscera.

But even still, something is… off. In the atmosphere of flooding silence, you feel eyes.

From atop, flanking the sides, right behind.

The echoes of a presence lurking is violent. 

You can’t shake off the feeling that this place isn’t human and you’re not welcome. 

Suddenly, the jaws of the cave seem inviting.

With haste, you walk towards the cavity.

It quickly follows just behind. 

You begin to run, rock and stalagmite whiz by.

You go further, deeper into the system only to meet- 

A tiny crawl space.

No time to think. It’s coming.

You shove your torso into the crack, 

tightly maneuvering through suffocating space, squeezed between earth.

It’s catching up.

Lungs compress.

Breathing quickens.

Heart drums.

That thing is on your tail. 

You continue on, fight or flight screaming.

You crawl and kick and crawl but then-

You’re caught between rock. You can’t move.

It’s silent but roars behind you.

It’s bodiless but slithers dangerously closer.

You tug and tug and tug to no avail.

It’s shrieking louder and flying even closer.

You tug for nothing. You pull but still caught. YOU TUG AND TUG AND TUG AND- 

BAM.

You fall out of the cave. 

Shadow covers the hole but you can feel its eyes still linger. Vehemently watching.

Around is the inside of a boxed room. 

Floor, walls, and ceiling made of black mineral.

The gaze keeps on you but now remains docile. But safety is never guaranteed.

Out of nowhere, before you can catch your breath, off-tone sirens blare in the distance, distorted—crunched by electrical compression. 

Hesitantly, you walk through the doorway.

Outside, you are greeted with a hazy field 

of silhouetted monoliths and bridges. 

You peer into their empty windows 

and its blackness stares back.

Towers of limelight swing luminance across 

the impossibly tall valley of black fog.

You look down only to see the walkway cut off.

A deadly drop into the abyss.

An overwhelming familiar chill returns. It’s back.

You sense it stand behind. Observing.

You don’t know what it’s going to do 

but you’re not staying to find out.

And so, with one step, 

you fall into the mouth 

of the deep miasmic void.

——————

Hell isn’t a subterranean land of fire,

Hell isn’t the devil’s domain, 

Hell isn’t governed chaos,

and Hell isn’t full.

Hell is the cold creeping abyss.

Hell is the land void of light.

Hell is the infinite loneliness.

And Hell is the terrible emptiness.

In its absolute form,

Hell is the kenopsia

Hell is the abandoned but the visited.

Hell is the invited unbelonging.

Hell is the invasion of solitude. 

And Hell is the horrible within the unknown.

Hell is the blind but the watched.

Hell is the noise in the noiseless.

Hell is the something in the nothing.

Hell is the dark.