4vA]^#PG#IN-2#ST-4#SP-4#DR-5#EP-4#FS-2#AD
Post by Ghost Rider on Mar 10, 2007 18:35:02 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]Hell is a prison.
Nothing more.
A prison where the guards are worse than the in-mates.
And where the in-mates are free to maul the guards.
After every death…the prison resets.
Escape becomes a game.
The most painful game of all.
When the guards and the in-mates have torn the flesh from your bones and the bones from your ligaments…
And all that remains is the cradle of your skull…
And the lingering of your tormented soul…
It starts all over again.
You wake up in a crimson walled cell.
Only this time the door is already open.
Beckoning you to flee, to run from this hellish place.
To escape.
So maybe you do.
Maybe you run as fast as you can down the blood tainted corridors, whose walls, ceilings, and floors are made of fractured bones and stretched flesh.
Maybe you take a wrong turn and end up in a maze that closes around you in the darkness.
Maybe you feel your bones snap like twigs as your bodily organs are forced through the eye sockets in your skull.
Maybe you try to scream but feel a large set of talons swipe across the surface of your throat.
Maybe you realize your holding your Adam’s apple in the palms of your now broken and fragmented hands.
And then maybe you hear the sound of a sharp object slicing through the air down upon you in the blackness.
And then your eyes open after the sharp pain ceases as abruptly as it began.
And you’re back in the crimson cell.
Maybe this time you run as fast as you can.
And you turn right instead of left.
Suddenly you’re outside now.
The floor is steaming and reeks of sulfur so pungent you feel your brains cells killing themselves off by the thousands.
Just to avoid withstanding another moment of the putrid, toxic stench that is Hell.
Maybe you look off into the distance and see a large, double paneled gate.
Beckoning that you exit through its blackened and spiked rectangular doors.
So you run.
And you run some more.
And you run some more, only faster.
Faster now.
You can’t believe you haven’t closed the distance after what feels an eternity of sprinting across the barren and scorching landscape.
Then you hear the growls.
And the shrieks.
And the howls.
And the meek.
You realize the red and maroon lighting is fading, giving way to the impending blackness that is to come.
The guards have spotted you.
The in-mates have spotted you.
Both of them want nothing more than to skewer you atop their spears, talons, fangs, and claws.
You panic.
You run as fast as you can for the gates.
Only you begin to realize the sounds are getting closer…
As the gates are getting farther.
Every time this happens, your soul feels heavier.
The constant failure to reach a conclusion…
The constant failure to find an exit…
The constant failure to attain closure…
Begins to take a toll.
Your soul feels heavier by the instance.
Reset…after…reset.
Every…
God…
Damned…
Time.
There is no hope in this place.
No hope for redemption.
No hope for repentance.
“That time has passed.” The angel told you.
“You are the condemned.”
“The unwanted.”
“The undesirable.”
"Heaven won’t take you.”
“Hell wants you.”
“Earth needs you.”
My name is Johnny Blaze.
Call me…the--[/glow]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His skull ached with nerve piercing ferocity as the flames continue to circle about its skinless, eyeless, bright flaming surface. The floor was scorching in temperature as he lay there, prone atop several active sulfur vents; which proceeded to cover his form in an encompassing cloud of acrid smoke as he remained alert yet motionless. A large, twelve foot long iron rod that had been rammed through the small of his back, down into the forsaken earth below, protruded from his leather covered torso.
The cell was eight feet by ten with crimson shaded walls made from human flesh and bone. The iron barred door frame remain open and inviting as recently awoken in-mates began fleeing for their short lived ‘lives’ once more.
Blaze however, could not bring himself to remove the iron rod and stand. His soul felt heavier than the greatest weight conceivable. His conscience felt similarly afflicted as he appeared lifeless and hopeless atop the cell’s blood covered flooring.
“…B-B-Blaze?”
A thin looking man of around forty years of age stood in the doorway to his cell as he spoke; his voice clashing against the distant echoes of rage and terror, rape and murder.
[glow=red,2,300]“What?”[/glow]
He remained prone; the right side of his head resting against the brimstone flooring as his gaze remained fixed to his left and on the bone fragmented walling across.
“…You…you gonna’…you gonna’ try again?”
The middle aged man, wearing thick, darkly framed glasses stood timidly in the entry way, hunching his shoulders weakly as he awaited the response.
[glow=red,2,300]“Go away, Garron.”[/glow]
Blaze had not moved so much as a millimeter as his voice radiated wickedly, yet without conviction, through his lipless, jaw locked maw.
“…but…but what about you’re bike? Azlios said he was gonna’ try to jump the flats with it….you know he won’t make it….then the bike’ll be smashed….and…and you’ll-”
Milton’s stuttering became nervously erratic, as it always did, while he did his utmost to appeal to the motionless figure on the floor below.
[glow=red,2,300]“-and I’ll have to die before the bike reassembles itself, I know… now get the hell out of my cage, Garron.”[/glow]
Garron cowered sheepishly at Blaze’s remarks as he turned to leave before spinning around and stuttering with a choked up, relentless, and frightened sense of urgency.
“But-But-But-But-you-you-you said that if you tried-if you tried going during Devil’s Night-that-that-that-that-the-the-the-Legion would be too-too-too busy with the games and that you could ride straight for the-the-the-if you-you-had-had your b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bike!!!!!!”
Blaze’s skull began to burn brighter as his brows narrowed in frustration.
[glow=red,2,300]“Garron, I swear to Christ, if you don’t get out of my GOD DAMNED cell I’m gonna’-”[/glow]
As the glasses wearing man huddled on the outside of the corridor in fear at the man on the floor’s harsh words, Blaze had a mind numbing epiphany.
[glow=red,2,300]“-Wait, Garron?...Garron?...GARRON!”[/glow]
“…wha….what?”
[glow=red,2,300]“What’d you say about the Legion?”[/glow]
“About-about-about-the-the Legion?”
[glow=red,2,300]“Yes, Garron, about the FUCKING Legion, what’d you JUST say?”[/glow]
“That-that-that-that-that you said that-that the Legion would be too busy with the games and you could-you could-you could ride to the-the-the-”
His demonic, raspy voice crackled through his lipless jaw in a whisper of realization.
[glow=red,2,300]“…’Games’…”[/glow]
“G-g—g-g-games!!!!!Huhuh-”
[glow=red,2,300]“Garron, is tonight Devil’s Night?”[/glow]
“I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-I”
[glow=red,2,300]“Spit it out you fucking pederast! IS, TONIGHT, DEVIL’s, NIGHT!?!?!?!”[/glow]
“Ye-ye-ye-ye-ye-yessssssss!!!!-Johnn-nn—nnyyyyy!!!!!!”
Blaze’s skull began to burn brighter and hotter as his soul began to free itself of the countless instances of failure and defeat. The simple truth was, Blaze had forgotten how to tell time as he occupied his mind with thoughts of varying degrees and techniques of out running the Devil’s best. It wasn’t his job, after all, to count the days until what passed for a celebration was to take place in the darkest, most vile place on earth.
Blaze’s eyeless sockets began to glow a distinct red, dimly at first, and then brighter and brighter as he reached behind his form with his right hand towards the small of his back. Twisting his skinless wrist to acquire a firm grip on the iron rod, his jaw clenched in determination and resilience as he began twisting and pulling the object out, foot by foot.
Garron gasped and cried out in fear as he ran down the corridor and away from the skull headed being’s crimson cell; flailing his arms and stuttering like a sickly child.
The iron rod crashed against the bone made flooring, near the now standing being’s steel toed leather boots, with a metallic ‘thud’ that echoed throughout the empty cell house’s tainted halls.
[glow=red,2,300]Devil’s Night.
The Night before Halloween.
Hell is a prison.
Nothing more.
Only the guards are worse than the in-mates.
And the in-mates are free to maul the guards.
Even rapists, murderers, thieves, and adulterers celebrate in Hell.[/glow]
As Blaze gently cracked both sets of boney, skinless knuckles against opposing palms, he took his first step out of his cell and into the flame lit, blood splattered corridor. Turning his head slowly to the left, then the right with an air of emotionless dedication to the coming moments, he began pacing towards the prison’s doorless, corpse filled exit.
“Blaze.”
The voice filled his head at first, before finally reaching what passed for his ears. A gruff, southern sounding accent, beckoned him to take a few, echoless steps backwards and turn towards the doorless cell on his right. As Blaze followed the voice to its origin, he came upon a man; sitting upright atop his bone made cot, leaning his broad shouldered back against the flesh covered wall.
[glow=red,2,300]“…Keith.”[/glow]
“Johnny Blaze.”
The flames encompassing his skull began to glow blue as a torrent of emotions began to flood his neural cortex and cause him a moment’s hesitation.
“…Been a while, son.”
The man’s wrinkled, and seemingly wise looking, mustache donning face produced a weak smile at the sight of his long lost acquaintance.
[glow=red,2,300]“Keith…………why?”[/glow]
Blaze’s shoulders remained upright and opposing as he stood in the doorway to the cell with his feet shoulder length apart.
“Got careless…Got stupid, ha….Figured if I do have a soul…well I ain’t usin’ it."
[glow=red,2,300]“How’s…how’s Marlene? And Wanda?”[/glow]
The man’s weary smile slowly faded as his eyes were overcome with a deep sense of sorrow and guilt.
“…Car Wreck….Twelve years old…just before her thirteenth birthday.”
Blaze said nothing as he stood, staring eyeless at his friend of old as the beaten man continued on.
“…Started when she was seven…Doctors said they didn’t know how long…three….maybe four years…one night, stranger comes callin’…says if I sign a paper, ‘give him my soul’, my little girl’ll be cured...like I said…figured I wasn’t usin’ it even if I did have a soul…couple days go by...we take Marlene in for Kimo…Doctor says, ‘Hey…guess what? It’s gone. It’s a Miracle.’…”
A single, sorrow filled tear slid down the right side of the man’s face as Blaze remained motionless in the doorframe.
“…on the way home, I see the stranger on the corner outside the hospital. He gives me this shit eating grin…like he knew somethin’ I didn’t…and I’m lookin’ at him an’ he’s lookin’ at me and then he raises his eye brows and points ahead of me, puckerin’ his lips like he was sayin’ ‘oops, watch out’.”
He closed his eyes as his grizzly, veteran tone deepened and continued after a moment’s silence.
“Big Ol’ 18 wheeler comes barrelin’ down on top of us…went out of the way to do it too. THAT’S how I know it was that sonofabtich that killed us…not random chance…not an accident…and that’s all I have left…each day I get a little more tired of this damned place…each day I fill that hole in my chest with a little more hate…but it don’t matter now…my baby’s gone…her momma’ too…Wanda…”
He wiped the tear free from the bottom of his wrinkled lips before sniffing his nose a single time and straightening his posture against the base of the cot and wall as he spoke.
“So, been sittin’ here…don’t know how long…hungry…starvin’ actually…just me an’ ma’ thoughts…and then I heard Azlios caught the infamous ‘Johnny Blaze’…”
He smiled with admiration and pride as he spoke the skull headed being’s name before continuing.
“…was just fixin’ to hang myself…fore you walked by…so where ya’ headed, Blaze? It’s Devil’s Night ya’ know…they see you out there, they’re gonna’ tear you a new one and then some.”
[glow=red,2,300]“Yeah, that’s the impression I got from the last four thousand times I walked out that door.”[/glow]
The man forced a deep southern laugh before allowing a moment of silence to fall about the two.
“…it’s good seeing you Johnny. Good to know I ain’t the only one who got a rotten deal…”
Blaze simply nodded, continuing to stare at the sitting man.
“…So…It’s Devil’s Night…Azlios and his clowns are paradin’ towards the flats…heard that sick little stuttering bastard say they got your bike…what’re you gonna’ do?”
Blaze turned with a look that could kill as he faced the prison’s exit and spoke with a heavy, demonic, southern, vengeful, and devilishly raspy, hate filled voice.
[glow=red,2,300]“What chu’ think I’m goin' do?...I’m goin’ to get ma’ mothafuckin’ bike back.”
[/glow]
Nothing more.
A prison where the guards are worse than the in-mates.
And where the in-mates are free to maul the guards.
After every death…the prison resets.
Escape becomes a game.
The most painful game of all.
When the guards and the in-mates have torn the flesh from your bones and the bones from your ligaments…
And all that remains is the cradle of your skull…
And the lingering of your tormented soul…
It starts all over again.
You wake up in a crimson walled cell.
Only this time the door is already open.
Beckoning you to flee, to run from this hellish place.
To escape.
So maybe you do.
Maybe you run as fast as you can down the blood tainted corridors, whose walls, ceilings, and floors are made of fractured bones and stretched flesh.
Maybe you take a wrong turn and end up in a maze that closes around you in the darkness.
Maybe you feel your bones snap like twigs as your bodily organs are forced through the eye sockets in your skull.
Maybe you try to scream but feel a large set of talons swipe across the surface of your throat.
Maybe you realize your holding your Adam’s apple in the palms of your now broken and fragmented hands.
And then maybe you hear the sound of a sharp object slicing through the air down upon you in the blackness.
And then your eyes open after the sharp pain ceases as abruptly as it began.
And you’re back in the crimson cell.
Maybe this time you run as fast as you can.
And you turn right instead of left.
Suddenly you’re outside now.
The floor is steaming and reeks of sulfur so pungent you feel your brains cells killing themselves off by the thousands.
Just to avoid withstanding another moment of the putrid, toxic stench that is Hell.
Maybe you look off into the distance and see a large, double paneled gate.
Beckoning that you exit through its blackened and spiked rectangular doors.
So you run.
And you run some more.
And you run some more, only faster.
Faster now.
You can’t believe you haven’t closed the distance after what feels an eternity of sprinting across the barren and scorching landscape.
Then you hear the growls.
And the shrieks.
And the howls.
And the meek.
You realize the red and maroon lighting is fading, giving way to the impending blackness that is to come.
The guards have spotted you.
The in-mates have spotted you.
Both of them want nothing more than to skewer you atop their spears, talons, fangs, and claws.
You panic.
You run as fast as you can for the gates.
Only you begin to realize the sounds are getting closer…
As the gates are getting farther.
Every time this happens, your soul feels heavier.
The constant failure to reach a conclusion…
The constant failure to find an exit…
The constant failure to attain closure…
Begins to take a toll.
Your soul feels heavier by the instance.
Reset…after…reset.
Every…
God…
Damned…
Time.
There is no hope in this place.
No hope for redemption.
No hope for repentance.
“That time has passed.” The angel told you.
“You are the condemned.”
“The unwanted.”
“The undesirable.”
"Heaven won’t take you.”
“Hell wants you.”
“Earth needs you.”
My name is Johnny Blaze.
Call me…the--[/glow]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His skull ached with nerve piercing ferocity as the flames continue to circle about its skinless, eyeless, bright flaming surface. The floor was scorching in temperature as he lay there, prone atop several active sulfur vents; which proceeded to cover his form in an encompassing cloud of acrid smoke as he remained alert yet motionless. A large, twelve foot long iron rod that had been rammed through the small of his back, down into the forsaken earth below, protruded from his leather covered torso.
The cell was eight feet by ten with crimson shaded walls made from human flesh and bone. The iron barred door frame remain open and inviting as recently awoken in-mates began fleeing for their short lived ‘lives’ once more.
Blaze however, could not bring himself to remove the iron rod and stand. His soul felt heavier than the greatest weight conceivable. His conscience felt similarly afflicted as he appeared lifeless and hopeless atop the cell’s blood covered flooring.
“…B-B-Blaze?”
A thin looking man of around forty years of age stood in the doorway to his cell as he spoke; his voice clashing against the distant echoes of rage and terror, rape and murder.
[glow=red,2,300]“What?”[/glow]
He remained prone; the right side of his head resting against the brimstone flooring as his gaze remained fixed to his left and on the bone fragmented walling across.
“…You…you gonna’…you gonna’ try again?”
The middle aged man, wearing thick, darkly framed glasses stood timidly in the entry way, hunching his shoulders weakly as he awaited the response.
[glow=red,2,300]“Go away, Garron.”[/glow]
Blaze had not moved so much as a millimeter as his voice radiated wickedly, yet without conviction, through his lipless, jaw locked maw.
“…but…but what about you’re bike? Azlios said he was gonna’ try to jump the flats with it….you know he won’t make it….then the bike’ll be smashed….and…and you’ll-”
Milton’s stuttering became nervously erratic, as it always did, while he did his utmost to appeal to the motionless figure on the floor below.
[glow=red,2,300]“-and I’ll have to die before the bike reassembles itself, I know… now get the hell out of my cage, Garron.”[/glow]
Garron cowered sheepishly at Blaze’s remarks as he turned to leave before spinning around and stuttering with a choked up, relentless, and frightened sense of urgency.
“But-But-But-But-you-you-you said that if you tried-if you tried going during Devil’s Night-that-that-that-that-the-the-the-Legion would be too-too-too busy with the games and that you could ride straight for the-the-the-if you-you-had-had your b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bike!!!!!!”
Blaze’s skull began to burn brighter as his brows narrowed in frustration.
[glow=red,2,300]“Garron, I swear to Christ, if you don’t get out of my GOD DAMNED cell I’m gonna’-”[/glow]
As the glasses wearing man huddled on the outside of the corridor in fear at the man on the floor’s harsh words, Blaze had a mind numbing epiphany.
[glow=red,2,300]“-Wait, Garron?...Garron?...GARRON!”[/glow]
“…wha….what?”
[glow=red,2,300]“What’d you say about the Legion?”[/glow]
“About-about-about-the-the Legion?”
[glow=red,2,300]“Yes, Garron, about the FUCKING Legion, what’d you JUST say?”[/glow]
“That-that-that-that-that you said that-that the Legion would be too busy with the games and you could-you could-you could ride to the-the-the-”
His demonic, raspy voice crackled through his lipless jaw in a whisper of realization.
[glow=red,2,300]“…’Games’…”[/glow]
“G-g—g-g-games!!!!!Huhuh-”
[glow=red,2,300]“Garron, is tonight Devil’s Night?”[/glow]
“I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-I”
[glow=red,2,300]“Spit it out you fucking pederast! IS, TONIGHT, DEVIL’s, NIGHT!?!?!?!”[/glow]
“Ye-ye-ye-ye-ye-yessssssss!!!!-Johnn-nn—nnyyyyy!!!!!!”
Blaze’s skull began to burn brighter and hotter as his soul began to free itself of the countless instances of failure and defeat. The simple truth was, Blaze had forgotten how to tell time as he occupied his mind with thoughts of varying degrees and techniques of out running the Devil’s best. It wasn’t his job, after all, to count the days until what passed for a celebration was to take place in the darkest, most vile place on earth.
Blaze’s eyeless sockets began to glow a distinct red, dimly at first, and then brighter and brighter as he reached behind his form with his right hand towards the small of his back. Twisting his skinless wrist to acquire a firm grip on the iron rod, his jaw clenched in determination and resilience as he began twisting and pulling the object out, foot by foot.
Garron gasped and cried out in fear as he ran down the corridor and away from the skull headed being’s crimson cell; flailing his arms and stuttering like a sickly child.
The iron rod crashed against the bone made flooring, near the now standing being’s steel toed leather boots, with a metallic ‘thud’ that echoed throughout the empty cell house’s tainted halls.
[glow=red,2,300]Devil’s Night.
The Night before Halloween.
Hell is a prison.
Nothing more.
Only the guards are worse than the in-mates.
And the in-mates are free to maul the guards.
Even rapists, murderers, thieves, and adulterers celebrate in Hell.[/glow]
As Blaze gently cracked both sets of boney, skinless knuckles against opposing palms, he took his first step out of his cell and into the flame lit, blood splattered corridor. Turning his head slowly to the left, then the right with an air of emotionless dedication to the coming moments, he began pacing towards the prison’s doorless, corpse filled exit.
“Blaze.”
The voice filled his head at first, before finally reaching what passed for his ears. A gruff, southern sounding accent, beckoned him to take a few, echoless steps backwards and turn towards the doorless cell on his right. As Blaze followed the voice to its origin, he came upon a man; sitting upright atop his bone made cot, leaning his broad shouldered back against the flesh covered wall.
[glow=red,2,300]“…Keith.”[/glow]
“Johnny Blaze.”
The flames encompassing his skull began to glow blue as a torrent of emotions began to flood his neural cortex and cause him a moment’s hesitation.
“…Been a while, son.”
The man’s wrinkled, and seemingly wise looking, mustache donning face produced a weak smile at the sight of his long lost acquaintance.
[glow=red,2,300]“Keith…………why?”[/glow]
Blaze’s shoulders remained upright and opposing as he stood in the doorway to the cell with his feet shoulder length apart.
“Got careless…Got stupid, ha….Figured if I do have a soul…well I ain’t usin’ it."
[glow=red,2,300]“How’s…how’s Marlene? And Wanda?”[/glow]
The man’s weary smile slowly faded as his eyes were overcome with a deep sense of sorrow and guilt.
“…Car Wreck….Twelve years old…just before her thirteenth birthday.”
Blaze said nothing as he stood, staring eyeless at his friend of old as the beaten man continued on.
“…Started when she was seven…Doctors said they didn’t know how long…three….maybe four years…one night, stranger comes callin’…says if I sign a paper, ‘give him my soul’, my little girl’ll be cured...like I said…figured I wasn’t usin’ it even if I did have a soul…couple days go by...we take Marlene in for Kimo…Doctor says, ‘Hey…guess what? It’s gone. It’s a Miracle.’…”
A single, sorrow filled tear slid down the right side of the man’s face as Blaze remained motionless in the doorframe.
“…on the way home, I see the stranger on the corner outside the hospital. He gives me this shit eating grin…like he knew somethin’ I didn’t…and I’m lookin’ at him an’ he’s lookin’ at me and then he raises his eye brows and points ahead of me, puckerin’ his lips like he was sayin’ ‘oops, watch out’.”
He closed his eyes as his grizzly, veteran tone deepened and continued after a moment’s silence.
“Big Ol’ 18 wheeler comes barrelin’ down on top of us…went out of the way to do it too. THAT’S how I know it was that sonofabtich that killed us…not random chance…not an accident…and that’s all I have left…each day I get a little more tired of this damned place…each day I fill that hole in my chest with a little more hate…but it don’t matter now…my baby’s gone…her momma’ too…Wanda…”
He wiped the tear free from the bottom of his wrinkled lips before sniffing his nose a single time and straightening his posture against the base of the cot and wall as he spoke.
“So, been sittin’ here…don’t know how long…hungry…starvin’ actually…just me an’ ma’ thoughts…and then I heard Azlios caught the infamous ‘Johnny Blaze’…”
He smiled with admiration and pride as he spoke the skull headed being’s name before continuing.
“…was just fixin’ to hang myself…fore you walked by…so where ya’ headed, Blaze? It’s Devil’s Night ya’ know…they see you out there, they’re gonna’ tear you a new one and then some.”
[glow=red,2,300]“Yeah, that’s the impression I got from the last four thousand times I walked out that door.”[/glow]
The man forced a deep southern laugh before allowing a moment of silence to fall about the two.
“…it’s good seeing you Johnny. Good to know I ain’t the only one who got a rotten deal…”
Blaze simply nodded, continuing to stare at the sitting man.
“…So…It’s Devil’s Night…Azlios and his clowns are paradin’ towards the flats…heard that sick little stuttering bastard say they got your bike…what’re you gonna’ do?”
Blaze turned with a look that could kill as he faced the prison’s exit and spoke with a heavy, demonic, southern, vengeful, and devilishly raspy, hate filled voice.
[glow=red,2,300]“What chu’ think I’m goin' do?...I’m goin’ to get ma’ mothafuckin’ bike back.”
[/glow]
4vA]^#PG#IN-7#ST-7#SP-7#DR-7#EP-7#FS-1