Isabella is a fallen angel, paying for her mistakes in hell
My dark wings sent me on the wrong path; losing faith in
Heaven made me a fallen angel with black, broken wings and a halo smashed to
smithereens. What used to be bright lights, harps, and happiness now has me
sitting in darkness with screaming spirits wailing. I stay with monsters,
beasts, zombies, wolves, hellhounds, and Satan. My heart breaks and bleeds
every minute of the day. There is no rest, just chaos. I am on bent knees,
weeping for God to forgive me, but there is no answer as I pray for
forgiveness. I’m afraid for my soul, the unknown black hole of Hell, being
alone with my scary thoughts, and my pathic discretions with splintering
nightmares. It’s my only plea to save myself. I can’t eat or sleep; there’s a
deep voice. “My fallen angel, all mine,” Satan rambles. He laughs, taunting
every night, tears of misery falling to the ground. He surrounds my legs with
snakes. My screams are raucous; all critters surround me like a feast with no
getaway; I’m near a crevasse pit.
It’s my fault for losing my faith and grace; there’s no
going back. A wrong crossroad to a path of wickedness. Satan was charming at
first, changing his face so you don’t know who he is, reeling me in, saying, “Come
with me to Wonderland,” Standing before me was a handsome figure who was evil
with no wings, spreading evilness in the dark woods. I could never trust his
words again, grinning like a black cat that swallowed the canary. He weakens my
knees like no other; Satan is evil who looks for weakness. Shackles bind me
down, my ankles are sore, and a bleeding neck with a leather choker confines
me, choking my airway. A fire surrounds me with no escape; the flames are high,
and it’s so hot and unbearable that sweat drips from my forehead. I’m not too
fond of it here.
I’ve suffered enough. I can’t take the heat; Satan’s voice
screams, and he laughs, mocking me. It isn’t amicable, it’s cruel. The creepy
crawlies are eating me alive. I’m getting weaker, my mouth requires drinking
water, and black beetles are lagging on my body. My screams are louder to free
me; all I ever wanted was to be in Heaven. One mistake brings me heartache. All
I get is burning Hell, which he comes to me with a teasing grin; he’s a fire of
brimstone. I’m scared. The demons torture the souls, screeching in pain; the
beast’s nails are black, and they have sharp teeth, faces, and bodies with scarred
marks and no wings in sight. They keep screaming, making me crazy.
“I will kill you over and over again, Isabella. No one
disobeys me, and you will never see the light of day, my sweet dear; you have
fallen into the pit of Hell. Temptation is tempting, making a deal with Satan;
there is no going back; you’re mine, all mine to have. Treasure forever; you’re
such a beauty with broken black wings. You will beg me to stop hurting you
every minute of every day. The beast wants your flesh; he always loves the
taste of an angel. Come to me, Isabella, and show me who’s king. Reveal the
ground I walk on. I’m your master for eternity; don’t you forget it and stop
crying, my dear?” Satan speaks.
The wolves are howling and hungry; they want to eat me. I
must have the strength to endure, or they will bite my flesh, paying for my
sins. The demons get the blade and cut my arm and leg, then the other with
knives and arms, gore spilling down my body; cries are known this is
maltreatment. This will be my curse for
imperishability for making wrong choices, so many regrets in my darkness of
wickedness, and a hell of no hope or faith. My lips chapped with cuts, and
skin-and-bones dark shadows appeared out of nowhere. This is madness. I’m lying
on the filthy ground; roaches make me open my eyes. I look up with tears, a
full moon and luminous effervescent, “Angel, will soon be home?” My
tears continued to descend. Oh, God is talking to me. The pain didn’t go away,
though; there was nothing to gain in this inferno. I want to leave this place
of evilness. Burning pit demons rage Satan worship; fallen angels are here
forever.
Days go by like a burst of gushing speed and squalling storm
screams overwhelming the mind. The heat makes me ill. The fallen angels are
getting tortured. The sinner’s fate is death, pure destruction, and watching
the horrible scene destroy and punish the soul.
The following night, I woke with no shackles or chokers on
my neck and relaxed my airway. I got up from the ground and ran, not looking
back, but I heard the hellhound following me, wishing to have my white wings
and fly away like a bird. Is this the end, or is it a wicked game Satan is
playing? The forest is dark and scary, and hiding is my best option, so I made
a small hut of branches and leaves and started to think. How I became an
angel when I was a human on earth, my boyfriend murdered me. He had this awful
rage that couldn’t help himself, so one night, I told him I was leaving, had
enough, and he pushed me and stabbed me until my last breath. I went up the
loveliest steps and followed the light. Heaven awaits pure happiness and no
pain serving God; my beautiful halo shined like the stars. I earned my white
wings, saving a teenager from jumping off a bridge. I mistakenly guided a
sinner to Heaven when he was supposed to go downstairs to Hell. I didn’t follow
the rules: you can’t save everyone; my wings were stripped and replaced with
black wings, and I became a fallen angel. I was now stuck in Hell with Satan and his monsters. They are hunting me down safely for the moment. I take a deep
breath and another and close my eyes; the silence comforts me, and I fall into
a deep slumber until I hear some cracking. I swallow with fear as they find me.
I don’t want to go back, but then I hear a voice come out. Isabella he knew my
name, and I run the opposite way, stumbling on the ground. Crows surround me,
it starts to storm, pouring rain, and the mud makes walking challenging. It’s
like quicksand; it is quicksand sinking with no escape. Maybe now my soul will
be in peace going down under six feet deep when I see the light, a hand lifting
me from the deep mud, carrying me to a lovely waterfall, and washing the
quicksand off my body. My long, silky black hair was braided and now loose. The
stranger removes my hair from my face; he’s an angel. He covers me with his
white wings to dry my body, keeping me safe for a while; then Satan takes us by
surprise and throws me into one of his caves. He’s torturing the angel that was
saving me. I pray to God to save the angel, but there is no answer; feeling
guilty, tears decent for his soul.
Continue reading the story in the anthology:
It is dark! A tortured soul's cry
ReplyDeleteAnd you can feel her torture within the words.
DeleteAuthor Perez pens dark fiction well. This story was gripping to the bone!
ReplyDeleteWow Martha, I can almost feel her despair. Well written.
ReplyDeleteThe author makes you fearful to turn the page, yet unable to resist...
ReplyDeleteWell written, I could really sense the torment.
ReplyDelete