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Not Intended For Children. May contain Mature content, reader discretion advised. Continuing to read beyond this point constitutes agreement that you are perfectly fine with reading mature content and are mature enough to read it.

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Sunday, March 7, 2010

Decadent Angels - Part 6: With My Head on Fire

My wild flight through the air, into the lake went by as if in slow motion
The sulfurous air and stench of burning flesh filling my nostrils, the heat hitting me in waves
Flames curling up my arm, searing my flesh, as I whizzed out towards the center of the lake
The screaming of the damned, a deafening, sickening roar
My insides roiling, nausea rising, bile rushing up the back of my throat
I put on a projectile vomit spectacle that I sincerely hoped the decadent angels had not seen
I wanted me flipping the bird to be the image that stuck with them,
Not the aftermath of too much sulphur, BBQ human scent, heat and flight

After what seemed an eternity, I began to descend into the lake
The flames reached up to consume me as I had seen happen with the others
I closed my eyes and began to scream
The pain so indescribably intense as my flesh crackled, melted and peeled
Closing my eyes had done little to shield my sight
For no sooner had I shut them than they melted off
I glimpsed the plume of smoke and the cavernous rocky ceiling above
Just before my eyeballs melted too
Soon I was little more than skeleton, dripping the ooze that had formerly been my flesh
All I could hear, before the sound faded away completely,
Was the sound of my own sobbing heaving screams
I sank to the smooth, slippery stone bottom of the Lake of Fire

My corpse began to reform and heal to its previous state
Even as my charred skeleton dissolved
And there was a brief moment's respite in which I allowed myself to dare to hope for relief
The bottom of the lake must have been a bit cooler than the surface
The process of charring, burning, peeling and melting moved along at a seriously reduced rate
My hope for relief died and my throat ached from the screaming
And the pain of slowly melting, reforming, facing that brief comfort and then melting again
Was such that I could not even think, see or hear for the longest time
I suspected then that this melt and reform cycle was perpetual while in this lake
When I could think again my thoughts ran wild between the horror and pain, my wasted life,
I had nothing whatsoever to show for having been alive for 22 years,
No close friends, no close family, no great, or even small, love, no art of any kind
I'd made zero impression on the world and it was likely no one would even notice I was gone,

Then my thoughts ran off on tangents of rage, hatred and vengeance,
These thoughts brought to mind that force I'd felt awaken upon my death
It swarmed ever closer to me, I could not ascertain its origin
I did not know if it stemmed from me shimmering ever closer to the surface
Or if it was drawing ever closer to me awakened by and attracted to my rage,
It fluttered ever nearer to me, teasing my waking mind,
My screams grew louder and more fierce as I allowed the rage to devour me
Even more than the flames that constantly licked my body
There was little left of the original Gillian Neales at this point
In her place someone new began to grow and fester, I was being reborn in the flames

My hearing kicked back in, the rage ebbed a bit, and I could hear everything around me
The wicked hiss and crackle of the flames
The pathetic and heart wrenching screaming sobbing cries of my fellow damned
And, of course, my own hoarse broken caterwauling, which I could not seem to shut off
Then my vision came back, I had adapted to the melty eyeball thing
And could now see better than I ever could in life,
I could see things that the human eye was never meant to see
Colors that didn't even have names, and things that required the aid of special equipment
As in microscopic organisms and the infrared spectrum, and so on
And also creatures that are not normally witnessed by the naked eye;

I was surrounded by more than just flames,
There were also the other damned souls, suffering and screaming
Their expressions frozen in agony, corpses dissolving into liquid puddles, then
The liquid would rush back into its former shape
Writhing, their mouths still held wide to pour out their gut wrenching cries
I got the feeling that not one of them could see as I suddenly did
There were also various hell beasties, big ones, small ones, flesh eating ones, and more,
Roaming through this flaming flesh pit
I realized then that the screaming appeared to do them no good, same went for me
It did not alleviate the pain in the slightest nor did it make me feel any better
The screaming was a practice in futility and madness I decided
So I ceased to scream
I was amazed that the pain actually lessened with this
I began to wonder if perhaps this held within it some purpose, test, or trick
So I let my mind wander, weaving in and out of all manner of uninhibited trains of thought,
My mind awakening with such awareness and imagination,
Philosophy, religion, outrageous battle scenarios, fevered stories, and naturally lush fantasies,

The fantasies slowly took hold of me, and the pain began to dissipate even more,
Within these heated erotic fantasies developed a specific focus
A central figure emerged, a certain dark prince by the name of Azrael
He invaded my every thought and sensation
Almost as though he participated heavily in these daydreams
From the comfort of his hell castle at the heart of this dimension
I found myself wondering wistfully what if we'd met under different circumstances,
If we could maybe one day be more than enemies,
There is no way to know how long I indulged myself with lustful dreams of Azrael,
Pressed against me, inside me, and simply near me,

Apparently time moves differently in Hell,
Thus by the reckoning of time in Hell,
I'm sure I indulged in those reckless fantasies for what added up to decades,
Decades on top of the decades which had passed before I'd begun to fantasize about my Azrael,
By the time I came out of them I did not feel the pain at all any longer,
So my mind again turned to thoughts of escape, seemingly less fruitless than before
The problem then became figuring out how to move again
It was as though I was cemented into place
Held by unknown laws of nature
I willed myself to wriggle, move and writhe, to little avail

Suddenly there was a brilliant and familiar white light before me,
So different than the glow of the fiery lake,
It took me a moment to recognize that light, so long had it been since I'd seen it
It was the same light that had been outside the gates of Heaven
Shadowed figures approached and muffled voices came through,
I caught a bit of it
"-the connection is too tenuous,"
"Can’t break through to extract her,"
"Never been this close to pulling out one of the innocent seven slain before,"
"Gillian can you hear us?
You're out of our you think you can escape on your own?"
"Don't be ridiculous!!! No one ever has!
Why should this apathetic girl accomplish what stronger spirits have failed to do?!"
Then I could hear no more, and the light faded, the frail connection broken
I speculated as to whether they had intended to help me or piss me off... be continued....

So that’s part 6 (originally from 11/14/2007). Really gotta say I love writing an ongoing series, can’t wait to get back from hiatus on this. I had all the way through part 12 section 1 posted prior to the hiatus. Had lots of ducks to get in a row, seeing as there had been no preliminary work before I started, had to get lots of character profiles and other background work done, and so on. Part 12 will have 5 sections, all of which are already plotted out and in various stages of writing. 12:2 should be going up in April. This month I’ll also begin putting up extras and supplementary content.
So what did you think of part 6? What are you looking forward to, based on where the story seems headed?

~ Christina Nabity
Decadent Angels is under my copyright. Contact me for licensing info.

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