Garder mon Ame

Chapter Five: Gruesome Detail

"And wrath has left its scar -- that fire of hell -- Has left its frightful scar upon my soul."
--William Cullen Bryan

A teenage boy sat shivering in the heat, whether depressingly cold or intensely boiled, he gave no sign. Every now and then he spewed up blood as he sobbed and sputtered out pathetic questions.

"Why am I here?"

"What did I do to deserve this?"

Horrible creatures would wander by, some with numerous, hairy legs, some with no legs at all. Some had a hideous array of eyes and teeth so sharp they could puncture diamond, and some were nothing more than worms that crawled into the boy's body and made their home amidst the fluids and heart. In fact, it seemed to be their duty to cause the boy as much pain as possible as they stabbed, tore, and fed off of his misery.

Once, a wolf with a cobra as a tail prowled up to the boy, and, instead of causing physical pain, whispered in his ear, "I am made by God, thanks be to Him, such that your misery toucheth me not, nor doth the flame of this burning assail me." The creature laughed at the boy's confusion and wretchedness and moved on.

Ardin watched the scene with cool fascination.

Disturbance fluttered around her heart like an annoying fly, but she shooed it away. This boy was the only form of entertainment as far as she could see, and if she had to spend eternity sitting on prickly, heat-ravaged grass observing this torture, then so be it.

The monsters that prowled about twitched their tails and cast their eyes on her, but they didn't seem bothered that there was a soul who had yet to experience the pain of Hell. In fact, some bared their teeth in less-menacing grins and called out greetings.

"Welcome, Hell child."

"Keep watching, Sister Darkness."

"Ahhh it's rare new meat smells so good, yet is so out of bounds. Pity."

Ardin thought this might be Heaven, or, rather, a place where the two collided. It didn't make any sense that she would have to endure nothing, no trial, no pain, in a place where fire was timeless and the screams of the damned echoed into the world of the living. She had somewhat expected to be boiled in lava while being prodded at with pitch forks or cast away into Phlegethon only to be devoured by Tartarus. But, no, here she was in a miserable, not entirely unpleasant dream where souls could wander an ocean of late grassland into nothingness.

Or maybe she had suffered enough as she lived; perhaps she had already endured her personal Hell. Life was just the epitome of sorrow and grief. People walked a maze constructed out of human distress and encountered nothing but dead ends which harbored the ghosts of terrible events. The guides of this labyrinth were abused and starving children, McDonalds employees, and failed poets, and, in the confusion, it was truly the blind leading the blind. And, how ironic, it was Jesus who was able to make the sightless see.

Ardin felt a surge of anger, and she put her fingers up to her temple and messed with the hole that had become a part of her body. Was it really enough to just have robbed God of her soul? She wanted to do something more, wield an assassin's dagger of heart and passion, but what? God already was an expert at torment, so what did it matter if people spent their forever in discomfort? That's why Ardin, though she contemplated it, didn't join the demons in dissecting the boy with their precise, beautiful methods of blood and gore. There had to be something bigger, an action so grand that her denial of the holy one could be heard for generations. One would think hell would have to retain a heaven for vendettas.

A creature with skin like oil appeared from the thin haze that shrouded the fields, and it lumbered up to the boy with a gait similar to an emaciated gorilla. When it approached the boy, it mounted him, and, with the screech of a bird of prey, it lodged its fanged mouth into the boy's throat and ripped.