One Month

One Month. I had spent one month in deep slumber. Needles constantly pierced into my veins, transporting drugs into my bloodstream, drugs which were supporting what my "sleeping" brain could not; Life. Murmurs of desperate hope clung to the bleached walls, hollow eyes and cold hands were my company,

the only excitement in that place was the occasional visit of death.

But it didn't feel like one month. It felt irregular. Blown out of proportion, stretched into abstract. To me, it lasted a split second, which seemingly was an eternity. An eternity of seeing where I would go once the life support was taken away. Where i would go once death would knock on my door.

The saviour showed me. He guided me through both worlds. Holding me down when I felt i was being tugged back into life, apparently it wasn't time, and that there were still things I had to see.

So he took me. He took me to the place they call "Hell", to show me how different it was from what i had thought it would be. Flames, intense heat, those were just stories told to frighten little children. Hell was colder than the room my human body was resting in. It was questionable, for there was no sky. Just a void above our heads. Yet, the chill was insane, and the air was stiff. The earth was cracked and hollow; similar to thin ice. This whole place was like a tundra, inappropriate for human life. That's when he reminded me, there was no life there.

He showed me the sufferers, driven into insanity, from confusion. They had tried too hard to understand their situations, what they did to deserve this unimaginable fate. Strewn across the ground, bodies piled in heaps, the sufferers would be tortured endlessly, by their own minds.

And if they give into their minds, they would die.

For death will always visit the suffering, the saviour said.