It was fast, and quick. I couldn't react. But does anyone? Can anyone react to something so fast, other than death itself?
I remember it so well. The burning, the stinging. The pain. All of the pain. The searing of the flames of hell as my flesh burned and grew more and more. Blood boiling, then evaporating before returning back as a disgusting rain. As I rotted, and grew again, burning over and over. My screams muffled over the searing and laughter.
"Why, oh why has this happened?!" I heard a man shout. "Another young one, sent to burn, when they have naught done any wrong. They can't have- no! Another lamb to the slaughter." He cried.
I couldn't respond in anything as I cried out my own blood, the flames searing my skin as it tried to harden like candle wax.
"Oh God, they didn't even get a chance to try! Leave a sinner as me here, but take the ones who should have been, with you!"
Through my own blood soaked tears, I could see him cry and weep. Whether for me or not, I don't know. But if it was for me.. I would like to apologize to the weeping man.
Because he's sorely wrong.
YOU ARE READING
Grym: The III
ActionIt comes knocking, not knowing. Never feeling. No, not truly feeling anyways. An overwhelming sense of it, maybe. Or so it seems. I appreciate comments and support, as well as criticisms. This is my first real original story and not some fanfiction...
