TElliott

The depths of Hell

The men and women marched up the hill out of the depths of hell. Escaping the fires that scorched the souls that were forsaken by the Father, the Judge. As they climb higher, knees crippled; their thoughts drowning in darkness; a darkness so thick that it chokes whoever passes through its smog. They cover their withered lips in hopes that they may catch a breath, but nothing; just darkness. And a strong sense of fear. Searching. Stalking. The darkness slowly consuming them, never not watching them, gripping onto them like leeches feeding from them, sucking all little hope that they once scrambled to secure, the one thing keeping them going. Keeping them sane. Taken, like nothing.



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