It never ceased to perplex, how much a human could bleed even after death. Shelton Grey could not recall how long it had been since he died, he only knew the pain that had come hence. It was an endless cycle, a death march to a throne of pain, dread growing with every step, originally at the terror of the unknown, but now in fear of the familiar.
A whip cracked and tore open his cheek, blood streaming down as though infinite, refusing to clot and dam the flow. And so he took another step closer to the destination. The heat on the soles of his feet melted his flesh, the path before him stained brown with the blood of infinite victims. A narrow path, with oceans of magma to either side allowing no path but forward or back, but the path behind was blocked by bodies pushing forward. Screams came like clockwork from the end of the path, though he had been rendered numb to the sound.
In the early cycles, he attempted to pray for an end to the pain, something to numb his nerves as he would eventually be numb to the screams, but each word left his throat as blood and burning bile. He’d eventually give up not due to the pain, but out of despair for want of answers.
Eventually he was pushed onto a plateau in the path as he had been many times before. There sat a throne like an iron maiden, covered in barbs and red hot iron bindings. Resigned to his fate, he sat in the throne, blood streaming from his ass and thighs, and the bindings melting his flesh. He tried to stifle a reaction, but still he screamed.
“Hello again, Shelton.” A voice cackled. “Welcome to cycle nine-hundred and ninety-nine. Quite a milestone!”
Shelton only gritted his teeth, trying desperately to bear the pain.
“To be completely honest, I’ve gotten bored of you.” The voice said, and while it spoke the barbs grew and the bindings shrunk. “That said, I have a treat for you! Perhaps something new will be a bit more entertaining for the both of us.”
The binds released, and the throne lurched backwards, launching him into the pit.
He opened his eyes, and he was home and in bed, awaking as if from a nightmare. To his right lay his wife, Andrea, and walking past the bedroom door was their teenage son Andrew, still in his sleepwear and brushing his teeth. “Mornin’ dad.” Andrew said as he passed out of view.
Shelton couldn’t speak. He wasn’t choked up or stunned, he simply was incapable. He rose from bed, opened his bedside drawer, and produced a pocket knife.
‘No…’ His mind screamed, but his voice remained silent. ‘Don’t do this!’
He marched out of the room with determined purpose, unable to control his own body. He approached his son, reached for Andrew’s shoulder, and pulled the boy to face him.
‘Please stop…’
He reached out for the tooth brush, and jammed it down Andrew’s throat. As the boy struggled, he flicked open the pocket knife and drove it into his stomach. The boy screamed as he made a vertical incision and dropped the knife. He reached into the wound with a bare hand, gripped the boy’s innards, and pulled them out. All the while the teen screamed through gurgled suffocation. Shelton’s body brought the ofal to his mouth, and took a bite. Though he had no control over his body, he could taste the blood and flesh just as sure as he could hear his son’s screams.
Then suddenly, his body stopped moving. He realized all at once that he had control, and he fell to his knees. “No no no no…” He cradled his dying son in his arms, and he broke down crying. Then there was a thud behind him.
“What did you do!?” Andrea yelled, sat against a wall and sobbing. “Why!?”
“N-no!” Shelton stammered, crawling towards her. “You don’t understand, I-”
“Stay away!” She yelled, scrambling away. “Don’t come fucking near me!”
“Please, listen!” He yelled. “Please, I-” He froze, losing his autonomy again. “-I’m going to rip out your tongue.” His body picked up the knife and dove at her. Stabbing into her throat repeatedly until her tongue fell out. He picked it up, stuck it in his own mouth, and started chewing. Then, mid swallow, he regained autonomy. “No… This isn’t… This can’t…” Shaking, he lifted the knife, and plunged it into his own throat until he blacked out.
He opened his eyes, and he was back in Hell, walking a new path, spiraling down into a black pit. This time he was alone, no others on the burning path. And yet a voice echoed. “How did it feel?” The voice asked with a laugh. “Such a touching reunion, after eons and eons in the pit, you were allowed to see your family again, wasn’t it nice?”
Shelton was gasping for air from the shock of what just happened. He tried to stand still, but the steep path below him made him slide on his bleeding soles.
“Would you like to guess my favorite part?” The voice asked. Shelton didn’t answer, still struggling to breathe without sliding down the spiral. “My favorite part is the juicy comedy of it all. All those eons away, time that could have been spent in reflection and contemplation, a cycle meant to cleanse your sins and rehabilitate you, and how did you spend it?” Still Shelton didn’t answer. “You spent every moment, every drop of blood concerned only for yourself. You didn’t once think about your sins and crimes! How very selfish of you. I usually only get that behavior from world leaders, people who have to partition off their guilt to justify their actions. But you! You cannot justify what you’ve done, but still you don’t contemplate it, why?” Shelton stumbled, falling over the edge of the spiral path and down to a lower section. He reached out an arm to break his fall, and the impact shattered his bones. Still he slid, and still he refused to speak. “Are you truly so incapable of guilt that you can’t admit what you’ve done?”
The interrogation kept on, and on, and before he knew it, Shelton was once again on the throne, burning and bleeding. “You know, I have to laugh, this new cycle is just going to be so much fun! The first round didn’t even scratch the surface of your sins. This time, you will relive more, and with every repetition just a little more. Maybe this time I’ll remind you what you did with that hole in your wife’s throat after you swallowed her tongue? And eventually, you’ll relieve it all. Right down to your execution.”
Shelton coughed up blood, and managed to sputter out two simple words. “Fuck you.”
The binds on the throne released, and he was once again thrown into the pit.
He opened his eyes, and he was home and in bed, awaking as if from a nightmare.
This work is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0