Diary of a Dead Man

3

                           °•° Richard °•°

My eyes snapped open.

My chest heaving in unsteady respiration as I could feel the tears leaking from their corners.

My hair disheveled and my body's heat unbearable. I look around the room and spot a glass of water by the nightstand. Picking it up, I gulp down the water finalling coming back to my former senses.

Oh great heavens! -

I sigh as I run a hand through my hair, recalling the nightmare I just had.

I was in Hell! I died! I died and I was being tortured!. From my first aweful awakening in hell and the shameful sin that brought me Thither. The fintess of my punishment as I make an unexpected discovery in hell. I couldn't remember exactly but I met with an old acquintance. A familiar yet unfamiliar presence. 'A brother whom we have all lost' were the exact words as said per the annonymous.

I saw some strange sights in hell. And that I'm being favored with something in the nature of a Sermon. I saw hope. Heaven. And a love story in hell.

It was a dream of eternal torment.

It was viscious.

I get off bed, slowly making my way to the toilet. Taking a sight at the unpleasant reflection. My hair strands messy all over my face that's more like swollen up and drops of sweat tainting the skin around my neck.

I hiss at myself, grabbing my toothbrush as I start my morning off—or is it not yet daylight?!

I shrug off brushing my teeth anyway.

"Deals with death and the dread of it—"

I choke.

Pausing for a second as flashbacks of my nightmare earlier hit me at once, spitting the paste from my mouth - I turn on the sink to rinse my mouth.

" Deals with life and the lust of it—"

Again.

The words. The sentences. The quotes I kept hearing from the scrunious voices that filled my head. Couldn't remember what it looked like. Or where the voice came from. All I felt was the acrimony of the sceneries that unfolded within my mind.

I had no idea if it was subconscious made up or a warning for my future actions.

I swallowed down my throat. Hard.

I had intended on exploring beyond the realms of the afterlife. Recoiling in desolate protest to the thought of an existence inwhich the body will be left to decay.

Maybe—just maybe—my intentions are at peak prohibitance?. Maybe I'm seeking my unreturnable demise?. Am I about to break one of the cosmic rules?!.

The nightmare—maybe it wasn't a nightmare. I presume it was a warning. Yet the slightest gut in me indulged me into moving forward with my plans.

I had my doubts now. Fearful of the aftermath consequences. But still brave enough to conclude my own theories.

I leave the toilet and rummage through my clothbag, searching for neat garments to wear and my luck approaches me when I find a white dress shirt with it's slacks and a stripped dark brown jacket.

I put on the outfit and spit on my hand to slick back my hair with, taking out one strand to the front and curling it. Making it compliment my sharp facial features.