Yearn | Hannigram

frankenstein's monster

Men cannot create life inside them, so they dream of necromancy. Their Lazarus dreams of resurrection stain everything they touch. Unable to cope with woman's ability to bring children through their body; they say Eve was made from Adam's rib. They say her sin is the reason all women pay the price— the price of stabbing pains when the moon shines upon them, the price of shredding and screaming to bring their son or daughter into this world. How cruel when God made sin to begin with.

       Hannibal and Will have made many monsters, their children. Randall, the fishermen, all of them. Turned their human suits inside out and created monsters where pigs once were. Making new life from the dead, making immortal being that will haunt dreams long after they have gone. And they have their own monstrous child, Abigail. She should not be punished for her sins in death, Will likes to imagine her in heaven-or somewhere much like it. See her smiling with her knobby knees in a warm river. White flowers and catkins blowing in the summer breeze, floating on top of the waves around her. Her skin is unscarred, and she is happy. She may have been like them, but she was made to be. Abigail is happy. Abigail is as innocent as Eve was, an unaware child manipulated by a man who used her for his own sinful desires. She ate the fleshy apple to make her fathers proud.

What level of hell have he and Hannibal reached now? Trudging through the river styx, offering organs in the stead of gold coins. Hands tightly paced together as they board the boat down and down those dreary waters. Oh how they'll be greeted at those dark gates...Will and Hannibal will fall to the pits of the inferno the second their bodies begin to bloat. Bypassing the adulterers, the liars, the thieves, they will fall to were Lucifer fell. The pit, inhabited by the Dark princes and King, Will believes Sin herself will smile at them. Her long serpentine tail circling her gutted stomach shimmering in the hellfire.

Hannibal would be enchanted and amazed at the beauty, his maroon eyes would surely catch the attention of every sadistic creature in the underworld- recognizing him as one of their own. Far more than any mere mortal unable to show restraint from sinful pleasures. He selfishly believes Hannibal and he could be turned to demons, given claws and fangs and large leathery wings. But if God has any say in this, that would be far from the case.

If Dante is right, they should spent eternity being cannibalized, perhaps they'll be torn apart by hellhounds. Prometheus will have nothing on them, Hannibal will be fed bloody meat and filled with wine until his stomach bursts. Then the hounds will descend, chewing his shredding torso, swallowing him down until only bone remains. Then he'll come back with ravenous hunger. Over and over again. King of gluttony, king of pride, oh how beautiful this demon of sin was to Will.

Will's sin would be, more than most others, wrath. Perhaps he will be forced to watch Hannibal suffer— bound and restrained and unable to be freed from his chains. No way to protect his lover from the torture he is enduring, no way to get revenge on whatever beasts gnaw at him. His anger will turn his skin to flames, his throat will go raw from screaming, his wrists and ankles permanently bloody and torn where the shackles cuff him.

      Or maybe their true punishment would be complete separation. The thing neither of them could survive. Their souls would be shredded apart and thrown to different levels of Hell, where their suffering would be complete isolation. The depression and loneliness eating away at them, leaving them husks of beings fueled only by despair and hatred. Yearning for each other for eternity.