| The Sinner Comes Home | Jun 3, 2017 4:42:41 GMT
Post by Mammon on Jun 3, 2017 4:42:41 GMT
| The Sinner Comes Home |
“Who had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most…”
- Mark Twain
There was an intense pain, there was the sudden rush of air as if he was falling from a great height and his senses strained to see, to hear, to smell, to feel. He couldn’t. It went dark not like someone had turned out the light in the room, but like the room and everything in it never had existed.
The first sense he regained was sight, sight broke upon him like a bleeding wound, the distant scudding clouds turned purple by the sunless sky and the memories of a body turned purple from bruises. And when his thoughts came under control he saw what appeared to be a long line of white marshmallow things? They were round like someone had animated pillows, he looked down at his hands or where they were or should be and began to turn violently. “Where are my hands.” he was getting hysterical and he didn’t get hysterical, people around him got hysterical he was the hysteria not the hysterical. “Where’s my everything!” the last thing he remembered a hole in his chest, which when you think about it isn’t the greatest last memory.
He died, he was starting to come to terms with that. How could he have died? He was meant for greater things, he had done everything right. He was a true demon down to the marrow of his bones and he had died. But where was the fire? Where were the Devils, where was his ultimate reward for a life lived truly.
And he screamed and screamed shouting cursing high and low, cursing everyone and anyone that came to mind. Damn those filthy monkeys, blacken the body of that Majin, and most of all damn the man who let him die. Damn him to hell.
And here it came, the push of ‘bodies’ pulled him into the line and he flowed in with no true companions but tears, if he had the eye’s they’d be red and raw with tears.
| Judgement |
And here before the judge, here before that red titan, the fine print, the final say. He pulled himself together and would work this giant with words of honey, he’d get his final reward one way or another.
“Great judge-” he bowed the small wisp of white bending at the waist, before he could rise before he could stand and make his case, It fell upon him hard like smith's hammer on a forge, sparks flew in his head and he simply fell forward like he was struck a blow by the very same hammer. “I did everything I was taught, I was true to my blood. And who can judge for me that, my burdens laid bare don’t make me laugh.” but he wasn’t laughing he on the verge of sobbing and breaking down, no clarity after death. “Was I wrong? What was the point of it all.”
And he sat in the middle of that enormous room not moving, just simply sitting. “I enslaved a town for gold, I robbed a bank. I tried to start a war, I can go on and on-”
“But I cannot name a single good deed.”