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A Prayer for Hell: Chapter #8 Night over Hell

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Author: Dennis Siluk

8. Night over Hell

The sky was now misty, blotched with orange and purple mist, with holes in them, holes that filled the weighty looking sky as if it was sinking. Cloud-vapors settling close overhead. This only made her feel lonelier, yet a moment of peace came with it. She pondered on the old gossip everyone used to tell her: no one goes to hell Alexandra. Or the other great philosophy: Alexandra, you should know better, there is no such thing as Hell. Everyone pretended to know God and the Bible, and his ways, but no one could quote a scripture, only some cheap advice that happened to pop into their minds. Someone said: if God is good, he wouldn't create a Hell, would he? I suppose one might say: why wouldn't He.

She used to think about that with a light touch, and say to herself: Why would everyone, no matter what they did, go to heaven? They don't deserve that either. Thus, where would they go? It doesn't make sense, and then one has a license to kill by God if there was no hell or no reward if there was no heaven; do as you please to his other creations. Alexandra, was no perfect woman, but she wouldn't destroy a painting she had made, and get mad if someone tried to do so. And if there is no heaven or hell, maybe there is no earth either, and we're all just a dodging-illusion. Is not seeing believing and if so it is not too late to prove my point; now why would some one teach me wrong? Why not, misery like company, just add a little of: out of sight, and out of mind to the salt, and you got a believer

…inconspicuous, she stepped over several people to make her break, her drive ahead, forward—, evidently the only peace these people would get—she concluded as she stepped over a few more souls that had piled onto one another, several high all around her, yet she found some empty spaces around to walk forward on and through [as she did anxiously]. Things seemed so different, perhaps she should had listened to the young man at the home [so she pondered on as she stepped over more bodies], perhaps just perhaps, but again them were more 'iffing,' she concluded, and that would not do. Was she to become the savage and carnivorous creature she saw, like her father? This was not in her veins. She pushed on, stepping over and around people: which was the job she had set herself, her mind and body to do, for the moment and walked and walked and walked to where she found herself peeping at the gate, the very gate she was before at; how interesting she thought, to end up right in front of it again, and there was Opiel: the gatekeeper, she recognized him. Yes, yes, this was her gate she cried with a long, long sigh from her stomach. Then she looked again, and coming around the corner, the corner she had looked beyond once which seemed a long time ago, and there was the tall Agaliarept: the man of secrets, and the one who could take them from you, yet he was only a tall man to her; one that she knew, whose face was familiar.

Said he, with a smirk:

"Each day and each night is a year down here you know, yes, you have been walking almost a year and you stood still for almost a year thinking."

His yellowish eyes almost froze her in place, but she moved another foot closer. The closer she came, the more red spots appeared on his face, like an anxiety attack, he was ecstatically angry, but trying to hold it—. Why, why thought Alexandra, why should he be angry at her stepping forward. And she remembered what the young man said,

"Know what is before your face…"

"Most people take advantage of the night, for day is when the yelling and the screaming, and the thinking goes on," she shoved her spirit body another foot forward. He was smoking a pipe, and almost choked on the smoke as she had done that, meanwhile she struggled with the forward thrust—but kept trying to push and push ahead she did. The tall man now was staring at her intensively.

"God gave me the right to be in the gate area, who are you to take it away? (She thought where in hells name did this come from, my mouth?)" The tall man now looked away; it was like he was pierced in the heart. No one ever had spoken such way about God in hell, or demanded their rights.

"God indeed," he murmured, with his teeth clenched, "why must you use his name here," and there he pardoned her, allowing her to regain her rightful place. As bewildering as it was to be swiped away to the Mass, it was likewise the same to be placed back into the Gateway City.

EzineArticles Expert Author Dennis Siluk

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