The Eternal Doom

Chapter 1, Landing of Angels

The sound of the footsteps was echoing inside the walls of the place, which was stretched a very long way, with a row of the windows on both sides, from which the incandescence of moonlight was spilling over the face of some young man who was struggling with his steps as the metal chains were entangled with his legs, blocking every rapid step he was intending to make, with his deep grey motionless eyes duly fixed over the two wooden panel doors at the far end of the gallery he was walking in. The window was passing with every approaching step of that young guy, who was now looking outside the window over the dark sky, which was glimmering with moonlight. Oh, Asriel, the dark angel, I know you are somewhere out there beyond the darkness of the sky, peeking at me through these endless windows, waiting to garb my sinful soul, the wind was crossing like that young guy whispering these words silently to himself. Two cops who were walking along with him didn't even listen to a single word of the hissed; their shadows were egotistically moving with these men, where the shadow of the young guy, moving with guiltiness, leashed with chains just like he himself; but the door far beside him was the only thing which transfixed his vision over it, the eyes which were expressing the wakeful night of his life, where his young clean shaved face was lost in some kind of anguish or anxiety, unknown to the man walking with him, leading him towards the door, like leading the hideous soul towards the hell, the door which might lead him towards hell , or towards heaven, or maybe

towards the court of mortals, where the souls stood to sentence him to punishment; but still, he was satisfied with every approaching step, whispering quietly, "Tell me, angel, will I ever see those faces which already departed that night? I know they will be standing behind the heaven wall peeking into hell in await of me, but I am just confused: when God asks me the question about the reason behind it, then what I will answer to my Lord? As I myself searching for the reason for all this."

He was walking and walking, with the chain in his steps clashing with the floor producing the echoing sound in the long length gallery; a door was getting close now, making him so glad; just as he was counting every shadow of the window on his way, the sound of the steps still echoing in the dreary silence, the squall of the hulking wind crossing him, reminding him about some secluded paths. "Oh, how will Asriel lead me? Where he will take my soul? Straight to hell or to God? Or to another court of souls, where the jury of angels might be sitting, where my angels, "The Denied, and Denier" will open my diary to them? How I will repay them for the malice of my crime?" The forbidden questions went on with each step, which finally led him close to the bolted door; he glanced out through the windows once again, into the sky, and whispered again, "Soon my soul will disappear from the stair of the sky."

There was such relief in his voice, he was longing to share

something with his own soul; the wind kept on crossing over through the windows, when, suddenly, the voice of the scribble chains started to make a loud voice in the gallery, as the guy started to take frantic steps towards the door, and found himself off balance; but a man grabbed him from behind and said, abruptly, "Hey, why in such a rush? Watch your step!" but the guy kept moving, with no concern to reply, what concerned him was only that door, which just stepped away; there was no obstacle in his way, neither a chain around his feet nor a handcuff in his arms.

The excitement was rising above. "Oh, I don't know if I'll ever be so blessed as to see heaven from the window of hell?" Once again the question impregnated his soul. "Forgive me, my soul, for hell is the only thing I owe to you, in the end, the mortal life, but I am feeling privileged for having it over what I have to repay for the life which will soon disappear of wonderland of mortals The gesture of the poor wind appeared again, crossing him as he passed before the door, until the man came, jerked it open, and the message of death whispered into his ear as if the messenger of the grave. The place was huge: a wide hall, with the ceiling so old and high that the dark was showing through the window between the pillars at the far side.