I am lying on the ground. I stand
up. I see a door in front. Solid iron door. As I push the door open I ponder
where I am.
The door is open and I enter what
seems to be a dark cave lit by flames at the sides. The hush silence breaks
into cries as I start walking inside. I can hear the cries but may be it is too
dark to see anyone. There is a definite familiar feeling with the darkness, the
flames and the cries.
What are those on the ground? Ants?
Have I been stepping on them all the while? Wait a minute. There is blood!
These are miniature humans, running around on the ground. It is their cries.
Somehow these cries, the blood don’t repel me. It excites the darkness inside
me. It brings an evil smile. I keep walking. I keep stomping. Thinking I am
meant to. All the while gaining that sadistic bit of pleasure out of it.
While I carry on venturing
inside, I realise I know nothing of who I am? All I know of myself is a
fleeting memory of being pushed from the clouds. I remember heading straight
downwards. I remember turning into a ball of fire. I remember a thud that
landed me on the ground. Beyond that there is nothing what I recollect. My
curious venture leads me to a place which can only be described as a magnum
opus created by Hephaestus himself. A fountain of lava, water falls of blood.
At the crux of it are humans. Not just miniature ones, infact of all builds. Big,
fat, small, thin. Humans walking on 2 legs, humans walking on all fours. They
are carrying out deeds that would inflict them pain. They however all end up
being the sources for fountains and waterfalls.
Though I don’t really know who I
am, though I don’t know what exactly this place is, I recognise the underlying
emotion that is pain. I however don’t feel condolences for it. It infact widens
my gaze, gets my heart racing, blood running and opens the pandora’s box that
was home to my darkness. I cannot deny or hide from the fact that darkness has
a major role in my existence.
My self-reflection is cut short
by a sudden boisterousness. I see a human of enormous proportions charging at
me on all fours. He has this look on his face that says he has had enough. It
says he is not going to be the food for incinerating fountains nor bone
crushing waterfalls. It says this moment right now it all ends. All the humans
around watching in stunned silence want the beast to succeed; they have a look
of hope. As it seems I am the bad guy here. Seconds after this puzzling
realization, I look to my self-defence. I grab a whip that was hanging on the
wall and let it swing.
As the whip curls in air, waiting
for its prey, incidents flash in my head that clear my existential clouds.
I was a resident up in the
heavens. I was obsessed with the moon. Her light gave me warmth of a cuddle,
Her multiple forms were picturesque to the eyes. I dived so deep in the oceans
of my obsession that I knew no daylight. I became the night that surrounds the
moon. It did not sit well with the other residents obviously. They chained me; separated
me from the moon. I was taken to the edge of the clouds and below me was
rampant darkness.
Now, as the beast approaches and
my swinging whips hurls down to inflict, I find myself in a state of harmonious
rage. You see, by excommunicating me they indeed took my moon away, they scarred
my heart and left me to rot, but here I am reunited with myself. I am the bad
guy. I am the darkness. The walls of the cave that shudder from the beast's
awakening sound to me like a call by the walls of hell to their master.
I call upon the beast to embrace
my whip and bleed on my feet. With that my whip lashes onto its head and
slashes it out with its backbone like a shish from a kebab, leaving its hot
blood cleansing my feet. Look of the people changed from hope to panic to fear
to despair.
If you had been a spectator the
look on my face would have said “I don’t know you, I don’t know what you did
and I don’t know why you are here, but sorry my rage is unquenchable and you
shall bear it because I am the lord here. I am the lord of hell.”
