My Time Has Finally Come
GENESIS 19:22 -
I stand naked, bathed in sweat. My own internal fluids now wash away the layers of scum that coat my skin, cleansing me of a life lead less than honorably.
Every fiber of my self that still remains, wills me forward through the cistern of corpses as invisible forces claw at my body, slicing fresh wounds into my tortured limbs. Their unseen hands grab at my legs. Their teeth bite at my arms Yet I continue to break through their deathly attempts to return me to captivity.
My chest heaves. My lungs ache. Spittle slips from the corners of my mouth.
I've been running faster than had I ever thought possible. Stumbling up and down the hills of dead, my footfalls sink into the remains of the uncounted and unwanted bodies.
The Prince’s killing fields stretch impossibly into the distance. A landscape that is a writhing mass of scavenging insects and unknown beasts that work ceaselessly, feeding on the carcasses of the outcast. The field expands before me as far as the eye can see; to the horizon and possibly beyond. I had never imagined them to be so vast. I have no idea where they'll end; but I plan to find out.
Masses of maggots, disturbed from their work of returning the bodies to the dust, turn my skin a slithering mass. They crawl up my legs searching me for their needed sustenance, having done expert work of stripping clean the bones upon which I stand.
The smell of decay here makes me retch. Human remains are wet on my bare, bloodied feet. An impossible number of bodies, separated and parceled with extreme precision, litter the ground, creating a tangled web of half-chewed arms, broken limbs and empty skulls.
From somewhere behind me, Abbadon's angels approach, riding atop giant apocalyptic steeds. They race toward me with unearthly speed, muscular limbs shaking the ground. Their hooves pound, pound, pound the soil, sending clouds of dust into the thin air and sounding the alarms of inevitable doom that ring through my panic-stricken mind.
The horses and their dark riders come to a halt at the edge of the field of dead, the stallions unable to navigate the treacherous boneyard. Angry, brimstone-fueled eyes find me from the distance.
I listen as soulless howls escape their lungs, announcing to the rest of Hell that it is about to lose another of its prisoners.
For the first time in ages, I realize I may be free.
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