The abyss shrouded the world as hell crawled through the gates of judgement that the flames had opened. He felt a lantern guiding his soul into his body, creating a blinding light that pierced through his eyelids with a blood orange hue. When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying with his face against the concrete, as if he had descended from the heavens, which had become bright like day. Hollow of life, the earth seemed unalive, and one of its last breathing souls was lying in a shallow sea that converged with the mad rivers and creeks of blood. Everything was a blur, and there was nothing that remained but splinters and ash. There were no signs of life, just the sounds of fires and falling ruins. His ears rang, and his mind had not yet settled. His breath was heavy, and his face was half-warm from the blood running down his head, but as he searched around him, there was only rage and wails echoing against one another as wooden beams came crashing down, silencing their hopeless shrieks. Embers sparked, and fireworks danced around the warm corpses with mothers wrapped around their children whose fathers feebly fought on. The boy spotted a body taking in its final breath, but it appeared nonhuman, clawing its way out of its house. Charred, its skin was melting onto the pavement of its front yard, exposing the flesh that was cooked through to the bone. As the boy looked on in shock, his vision became increasingly impaired when a single being appeared out of the devastation, clearer than anything else.
His world became an augmented reality of hell, a paradise of death that had arisen from the caverns of the abyss, where stood a tree with the frame of a prehistoric oak, possessing a thousand limbs cut from murderers who were boiled alive for a thousand years; glaring at him with a thousand eyes gouged out from ancient torturers; its bark made from canvases of skin sewn together, flayed from preachers of lies; and roots made of spines torn from the greatest of men. It absorbed the nutrients of blood quicker than storm drains could filter it away, for it had no lungs to breathe nor speak, yet there was every sign of this being that suggested it was capable of thought. Forever trapped in a state of a medium, the tree found the child lying before Him, and surfacing out of its bark, a single mouth appeared, which widened into a pleased smile. All of His eyes pointed toward Arminius, burdening him with voices of the damned, and His hands began to reach down, wanting to take the boy for its own. Driven by horror and instinct, Arminius closed his eyes to erase the sight of this otherworldly tree as the clashing screeches of ghouls subsided. When he slowly reopened his eyes, nothing from their encounter remained.
Arminius searched for the being, but He was nowhere to be found, surrounded by shards of bottles, his shattered audio player, and books spilt out of his schoolbag, gashed and burnt. However, the vision reminded him to find help. Trembling, Arminius placed his hands on the road, but when he tried to rise, his right arm failed to respond, and when he looked down at his limb, he found it burnt and fused with the fabrics of his shirt and jacket. Half his hand was barely intact, and his index finger to his thumb was smashed, but for someone whose bones were showing out of his skin, there was an uncanny calm in him. He felt nothing, yet as he prepared to rise again, his core gave way. Collapsing, Arminius gasped for air as if his lungs were being strangled, and when he lay on his side and ran his hand down his body, he saw the culprit of his weakness. A short beam was impaled into his flank, wedged inside him, and the pain suddenly flooded his mind, overwhelming even the effects of adrenaline. Stricken by a headache more severe than any he had had before, he was reminded of the urgent need to move, and as he screamed from the depths of his soul, holding onto the beam in his body, he brought himself up to his knees, however much it pained him. Taking small steps at a time, Arminius uttered a cry with all his might and lifted himself onto his feet with his head facing the heavens, but he knew his gratitude lay not with the gods who did nothing to help him, for it was Death who kept him alive.676Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5mHKBcnZpb
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