Hell's been frozen over for a long time
Hell is white.
Lucifer sits on a throne made of bones frozen solid. His skin is the colour of cot-death’s tiny lips. His long white beard moves lazily like a flag of surrender in the breeze. Fissured skin leads up to black pits that house a glint in the back hollows.
His horns are made of ice. They refract the light and sprinkle the chamber with rainbows.
Hell is cold storage.
The mist of the blue devil’s breath is a fog for the whole nine rinks.
Dante got it wrong. Hell is as far from God’s light as it’s possible to go. It makes dry ice seem like lava.
This is far below absolute zero. This is below the basement, below the bottom of the well, below rock bottom. This hell chills and numbs on a metaphysical level. The temperature is thousands of negative degrees sintigrade.
This cave where water gets so cold that it turns to liquid again is where souls go for punishment.
This is the last chance.
Ladders ring the edges of every room. Anyone can climb to heaven from here, provided one doesn’t look down or slip and fall.
Not many make it. It takes centuries.
As one’s soul thaws out, it’s very painful. Those that falter and let go of the ladder scream all the way down, flailing slower as the air cools. Their agonized screams Doppler closer and explode into crystals as they collide with the ice. Snow drifts lazily on the breeze.
They freeze into ice-dust before they even hit the ground. It’s the cold version of re-entry.
Lucifer is reminded of his own fall from grace with every scream.
Lucifer has no interest in the fate of those that end up here. He’s given up. He doesn’t run Hell, he’s just the most famous prisoner. There are many souls in the mist around his chair that took one look at the ladders stretching up into the infinite and sat down where they were.
Heaven is heat. Heaven is passion. Heaven is alive. Heaven is not boring. Heaven is sunny. Heaven has winter but Heaven’s winters are filled with snow angels and red noses on happy children.
Hell is unchanging, uncaring, indifferent, defeated cold.
tags
Lucifer sits on a throne made of bones frozen solid. His skin is the colour of cot-death’s tiny lips. His long white beard moves lazily like a flag of surrender in the breeze. Fissured skin leads up to black pits that house a glint in the back hollows.
His horns are made of ice. They refract the light and sprinkle the chamber with rainbows.
Hell is cold storage.
The mist of the blue devil’s breath is a fog for the whole nine rinks.
Dante got it wrong. Hell is as far from God’s light as it’s possible to go. It makes dry ice seem like lava.
This is far below absolute zero. This is below the basement, below the bottom of the well, below rock bottom. This hell chills and numbs on a metaphysical level. The temperature is thousands of negative degrees sintigrade.
This cave where water gets so cold that it turns to liquid again is where souls go for punishment.
This is the last chance.
Ladders ring the edges of every room. Anyone can climb to heaven from here, provided one doesn’t look down or slip and fall.
Not many make it. It takes centuries.
As one’s soul thaws out, it’s very painful. Those that falter and let go of the ladder scream all the way down, flailing slower as the air cools. Their agonized screams Doppler closer and explode into crystals as they collide with the ice. Snow drifts lazily on the breeze.
They freeze into ice-dust before they even hit the ground. It’s the cold version of re-entry.
Lucifer is reminded of his own fall from grace with every scream.
Lucifer has no interest in the fate of those that end up here. He’s given up. He doesn’t run Hell, he’s just the most famous prisoner. There are many souls in the mist around his chair that took one look at the ladders stretching up into the infinite and sat down where they were.
Heaven is heat. Heaven is passion. Heaven is alive. Heaven is not boring. Heaven is sunny. Heaven has winter but Heaven’s winters are filled with snow angels and red noses on happy children.
Hell is unchanging, uncaring, indifferent, defeated cold.
tags