Purgatory

The blood drips off his hands, fear and hatred filling its essence. How could I have become this, he thinks. How could I have done this and become this man. No, he is quick to correct himself. I am not a man, I am a creature unworthy of even an animal’s respect. His back remains bent, the weight of his sins weighing heavily upon the flesh of his body. Even that becomes a question to his fragile mind. Is he really flesh or is it just some macabre joke played on him because of the pain and torment he has incurred. Or is it something more, something much deeper that he is too alive to truly understand. After all, the realms of the dead are strange and plentiful when compared to those of the living. When thrust into its cold embrace, living creatures often find themselves unsure of what is happening or whether the truths they held so dear are truth or merely a new kind of fiction. Continue reading