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 Post subject: hell
PostPosted: 12 Jan 2010, 14:26 
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He had been evil in his past life. It came not as a shock but as the acceptance of an inevitability to him. The acrid smoke prevented him from seeing his feet. The screams of human misery was a hellbourne cacophony that made him wish he was deaf. The omnipresent heat told him all he needed to know. He knew exactly where he was.

His evil had not been the genocidal kind, or the totalitarian kind, his evil has been something far more malevolent – his evil had been the evil of apathy. An evil so repugnant it was beneath the mass murderers, beneath the hatemonger and racists, beneath even those who killed for personal gain and desire – it was a cowardly evil – an evil he had accepted so that he would never be forced to choose in believing in anything.

His mind raced in fear – he had been raised as a Jesuit, he had read the passages of what was predetermined for the sinners. In his mind, he produced horrific scenarios of what his punishment might be, each more demonic and twisted than the last. His heart beat crushingly into his throat, “How ironic,” he thought, “to still feel this heartbeat even as I am dead.”

The smoke parted for briefly, and he saw the twisted ruin and rubble, the scattered limbs and severed heads, the blood soaked concrete, and a man sawed in half still struggling to survive after the demons tortuous game had grown stale and had moved on to the next prey.

As the smoke settled around him again he staggered to his knees and sobbed. What else could he have done? He had been dead for only a few seconds and already he had seen the horror – a kind so indescribably terrible that he wished he could die again. His thoughts drifted...what had he been doing before he died? It must have been quick, he thought. There had been a deafening crunch but then...oblivion.

Then he had awoken – “Odd,” he thought, there was something just beyond his brain's grasp. “More irony, that I am a fallible human even in death, still reliant on organs that had been left in Life.”

He kept praying that a ray of light would shine down through the smoke, to signal to him that he was loved and redemption was still attainable, but this was no fairy tale. He struggled forward climbing a twisted pile of smoldering wreckage and steel covered in blood and twisted into an obscene mix of flesh and rebar. Then he heard a small voice, that pierced through the screams, directly underneath him in that pile of death and decay. He began to dig furiously, moving concrete and human flesh...as he tossed an unidentified organ to the side, he vomited. He continued this nightmare task until he saw a face, a young boy of maybe eight. As their eyes met, the voice stopped it's cries and looked almost serene. The man jolted with adrenaline – what kind of God would send a young boy to this place...what could he have possibly done?!

It all came racing back like an artillery shell to his conscience. He blazed with purpose, like a possessed dog and dug maddeningly to free the boy. His nails cracked and tore. The ash floated into his eyes blinding him with searing intensity When he finally had a hole large enough he grabbed the boy's free arm and tugged. As he tugged he realized that it was the boy's only arm, but that he was otherwise intact, and lifted him out of his tomb.

A shattering crack to his left and he realized the other tower was coming down. He threw himself over the boy he had just extricated as the world seemed to collapse around them. Second by second time slowed so to a point where he could count the millenia between his rapid breaths. Then it was over. He surged to his feet, the boy clutching him with one arm and he staggered towards Liberty St. stumbling over the incarnation of hell that had been placed on his Earth. Rage fueled him forward - and purpose. He staggered over another pile of steel and human remains and suddenly all around him, beams of light pierced the haze, a thousand angels lit by halos surging towards the darkness, their faces set with grim purpose, unafraid.

And the man knew in that moment, the definition of courage. He stumbled out of the haze towards a beckoning siren. He deposited the boy on an empty gurney. The boy's eyes filled with fear when he thought his angel was leaving him but the man leaned forward and hugged him – the connection was electric. The boy understood and released his death grip on the man.

The man turned unflichingly back towards the darkness, grabbed a helmet of one of the fallen angels, and rushed into the smoldering pit once more. Afraid of only one thing – that he might never again have a chance to redeem his apathy.

The boy watched as the man charged in – and the smoke enveloped him once more...





Dedicated to all of those who burned like supernovae as the darkness did it's damnedest to swallow us all.



By Me.

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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 12 Jan 2010, 15:18 
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thats was awesome Mzz. great job

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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 12 Jan 2010, 15:32 
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*sniff* I am unaffected by this *sniff*

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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 13 Jan 2010, 18:33 
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TL;DR

Busy watching Jersey Shore


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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 13 Jan 2010, 19:07 
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i read it all. i liked it yet i didn't like it. i don't know. i think i live in quite a different world to the one you do mzz, and this just exemplified it. message of positivity is always a good one though i guess. dunno. dunno. dunno. good for writing it though. takes a lot of courageous to throw something like that out there.

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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 13 Jan 2010, 19:56 
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it was good writing, however that "positivity" in not really my cup of tea. i prefer something which glorifies what is normally considered repugnant, like "those who killed for personal gain and desire" it would be awesome if you wrote a story about that.

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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 13 Jan 2010, 20:20 
Less is More
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i disagree with everything you just said. except the writing. it was well structured. just a few writing conventions i would have used differently.

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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 14 Jan 2010, 01:34 
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I am very impressed Mzz. The structure was superb and the underlying message was beautiful. Just out of curiosity, when was it written?


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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 14 Jan 2010, 15:15 
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JDC LIKES DICKS

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Last edited by mzziqztixl on 15 Jan 2010, 01:00, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 14 Jan 2010, 15:58 
Foxxy
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I really like how you never had to say it was about ground zero, but yet you made it perfectly clear that's what the subject was. I'm really interested to see what the final result is if you decide to edit it later. Seriously, you really are talented.


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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 14 Jan 2010, 17:41 
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Quote:
takes a lot of courageous to throw something like that out there.


Or a really big ego. Just sayin'.

Deep shit though.


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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 14 Jan 2010, 22:27 
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don't ever say what it's about ever again. you should edit your post too. don't feed people what it's about. let them relate it to whatever in the world they want to. for me, that story is not about what you said it was about, nor do i want you to tell me that it's exlusively about what you said it was about.

good boy for editing. two gold stars and a belly rub for you :)

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Last edited by JDC on 15 Jan 2010, 01:24, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 15 Jan 2010, 01:11 
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As with all things associated with writing, we all see the final product differently. Still you are right. I meant to not post at all in this thread - just to watch the reactions and learn what I had done right and what I had done wrong.

And I won't post in it again after this.

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 Post subject: Re: hell
PostPosted: 15 Jan 2010, 18:49 
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I liked when it ended best =)



Joke mate never read it but sure its as bitter and twisted as yourself, GJ

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