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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Damned

Aardvark

By Aardvark
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Aardvark

Aardvark

Posted
Posted

The first thing that surprised me, a life-long atheist and disbeliever in all belief, apart from the belief that there was nothing to believe in, upon arriving at the gates of Pandemonium, was that it didn't quite smell as bad as I thought it would. The second thing that surprised me was that I could smell at all, since I was convinced I left all olfactory glands on my corpse, which, by now, should be on its way to being burned and scattered, as was my final want. The last great surprising thing was that, despite what cartoons had taught me, Satan himself was not standing at the gates, welcoming me, along with a large batch of eternally damned newcomers, to infernal damnation for the rest of eternity. Somehow, the idea that my entire belief structure was a lie perpetuated by godless scientists, philosophy majors, arts students and other deadbeats and layabouts did not once cross my mind.

 

So I entered what would most probably be my home for the rest of forever. As I entered those gates, more functional than foreboding, I couldn't help take stock of my situation. I was dead, had left my corporeal form and the plane of existence known as Earth. I had, despite a life that was rather uneventful and without any real wrongdoing, ended up in the pit of eternal hellfire. I was little more than my ethereal form, exactly as I would've imagined it while alive. A human-shaped, translucent ghosts, dressed in what I was wearing at the time of my death, with all the memories of my life. I even had at my grasp a better memory of my biology course than I ever had while alive, telling me that I shouldn't be able to remember my biology course, as that was all kept in the brain, stored in cells by way of chemical combinations.

 

Wait, if I'm still wearing the exact clothes I was wearing on death, does that mean I'm still armed?

 

A quick pat of the pockets later and I was deflated. Here I was, trapped in hell and I didn't have as much as a simple pocket knife to protect me from the slavering demons. Not for the first time in my death, I regretted never learning kung fu.

 

The utilitarian gates of Pandemonium were followed by a stairwell that was not made from the trapped souls of the damned. It seemed to be made from marble. Rather fine masonry, too. My footsteps echoed softly as I descended.

 

Echoed off what, though?

 

Around the stairs, there was nothing. Infinity in all directions. Come to think of it, there hadn't been much of a backdrop since I arrived at this place that didn't seem to resemble hell. As I continued down, I could feel the darkness of eternity narrow around me, as if I were descending into a passageway. Soon afterwards, I felt myself at the bottom of the stairwell. The floor was hard underfoot, odd as my feet were translucent and seemed to pass through anything else I kicked. It didn't matter, though.

 

 

Here I was, in a place that I'm quite sure was Hell, as there had been a sign, as I entered Pandemonium, that had informed me that I was in hell and was here forever. My encyclopaedic memory of all religious texts that I'd happened to read, just so I could argue with the faithful or faithless and know what I'm arguing, was telling me that Hell should feel unbearably foreboding. I just couldn't take that this was the place. It was so... empty.

 

I reached out as I felt eternity close in on me, but could still feel nothing. So I walked onwards, with the oppressive feeling that the non-existent walls were closing in on me. Was this part of hell? It was mildly unsettling, but nothing near the eternal agony in pits of brimstone.

 

Another thing that dawned on me, although for the death of me I couldn't imagine why, was that I had never, despite constant reminders to myself, found out what brimstone actually was.

 

Suddenly, I had the feeling I was out in the open again, despite the unchanging scenery of eternity. As uncertainty began to turn to fear, I turned to see that the marble stairwell I had descended was gone. I hadn't walked that far, had I? I took a step forward, only to discover that the path I had been travelling was now gone.

 

I fell.

 

I hit the floor.

 

The floor wasn't there. I was lying on a solid surface that my essence could not pass through, but could see eternal blackness beneath me. Once more, I was thanking that I was already dead and probably didn't need to eat ever again, or else I might have lost my lunch to that.

 

As I thought about food, I became hungry. Is this remembered hunger? Or do I actually need to eat to sustain my essence? Wait, why am I even thinking anything that silly. I'm in Hell, damned for all eternity. What else could possibly happen to me? I die and go to Hell's Hell?

 

All this introspection and I still couldn't remember exactly what I'd done to land me in this predicament.

 

After some time, I regained my footing. Gazing around me lead me no closer to a better direction to travel, so I continued on forward.

 

Hours past.

 

The hunger pains came and went, usually coinciding with any thoughts about ghosts being hungry. Other bodily functions became worries for me as I thought about them. At one point, I realised that I hadn't taken a breath since dying. Funny that. My eyes, or what passed for them now, were blinking rapidly in an effort to stop the non-existent air from drying them up. I decided to do something to take my mind off thinking. Of course, as I tried to think of something, my brain went blank. So I walked.

 

I tried to keep time as I walked, as I discovered that even a three hundred dollar watch either doesn't possess a soul or was still alive around my wrist... right up until the casket passed through the crematorium. In either case, I had no swiss timepiece to tell me how long I'd been here. Efforts to keep a running tally of my footfalls, which were pretty regular, turned out to be about as impossible to keep after death as before. Eventually, I gave up in frustration.

 

Hours, days, eons passed. Or it could've been seconds. It was hard to judge. There were no landmarks, no features, nothing. Just me in an endless void of blackness. Which made me think again. It was endless blackness, but I could see that it was endless blackness. So there had to be some light somewhere. But there was nothing. It was like walking through space, except without stars or space suit. Which got me thinking about breathing again, which I couldn't do, but was distressed over nonetheless.

 

I tried to start thinking about my life, again. About my beautiful wife, my fantastic job, my three... kids? Did I even have kids? Or a wife? I searched my memories. I knew they were there, but I couldn't make out any faces, any details. I felt I had seven decades of life under my belt, but couldn't seem to recall any of it. Just that I was here and I died wearing a suit. An itchy suit. Something that did take a long time to completely forget.

 

More time passed.

 

Still nothing. More empty blackness. I leaned down and felt the floor, to try and determine what I was walking on. I could tell the floor was there, as it resisted all efforts to push my hand through it. But I felt nothing. It was rather disconcerting. I could feel a rather mild chill, ever since I entered this place. But I couldn't feel what I was walking on. I tried jumping, just to see if I could hit the ceiling. Futile. Finally, I screamed. I screamed for what could have been hours or years, I had no idea. The screaming only stopped when my ethereal form realised that prolonged screaming turned the throat ragged. Finally, I fell to the floor. I was all alone. Alone in hell.

 

For all eternity.

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Ayshela

Ayshela

Posted
Posted

Holy crap! an Aardvark sighting!! and an Aardvark story!!!

*squeeeeeeee* =)

*tacklehugs the aardvark*

DANG it's good to see you again!!!

 

Oh yes, story! Lessee...

 

Paragraph one

might need to streamline this a bit? You've as many comma separated partial thoughts here as my first drafts usually have, and I hear that's not a good thing. :lol:

 

Paragraph two

"I couldn't help take stock of my situation." Missing something here - "couldn't help but" or "couldn't help taking" would read smoothly.

 

"A human-shaped, translucent ghosts," A ghost? A is singular, ghosts is plural - which are you? ;)

 

continuing on, then...

"Hours past." Hours past - what? Or did you mean Hours *passed*? Probably the latter, since you refer later on to more time having passed.

 

 

As a whole - I *really* like this. For once, I had a sense of where you were going with this, but that's probably only because this is something that's bounced around my head now and then (which REALLY makes me question your sanity, but that's a whole other point). This is well done. You've included enough detail to make the environment real for an engaged reader, but not so much detail that you lose the reader in the forest of minutiae. You also portray an evolving awareness very well, and very naturally. It seems as though the train of thought he followed would be the only way one *would* react to those circumstances.

 

Nicely done.

And I am SO glad to see you pop back up here!

*nails your boots to the floor* :lol:

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