Water World: No Escape

“Believe in your friend and save them by erasing that belief by forgiving…” – The Red Code

WaterWorld
In my early-to-mid-childhood, like most kids, I spent a good chunk of my time watching cartoons. There were many that I loved – Samurai Jack being a personal favorite - but I remember there was always some show that bored the Hell out of me even though every other kid born in the 90’s saw them as some sort of classic.

Hey Arnold!, Cat-Dog, and Arthur all spring to mind…except for this one crazy bat shit episode of the latter that I could swear came out of this exact Wiki. It was an episode where Arthur takes some midnight swimming lessons or something like that.

When he gets on the bus that would take him to his lessons, he tries to pay with the classic, innocent quarter. The bus doesn’t take his quarter…it takes his life. All the other passengers of the bus are…squids, squids in human disguises. They reveal their true forms and do…things…to him. You could probably fill in the blanks yourself.

Well, I just had a similar experience, except everything was relatively normal. I’m not dead, for instance, and you could add to that there weren’t any squids. I did go on a bus and I went to something similar…but probably much better. I am in WaterWorld. I figure it’s probably the last day of middle school. The problem is that the last thing I remember is being in a freshman science class at Fairview High.

The sun is shining beyond my comfort but within my tolerance. In front of me is that fake imitator sun, lifted because he cannot stand, wearing his self-destructive glasses…but I am thankful for him, for he is signaling to me, yes, this is WaterWorld. It feels 50 miles radiated from where it should be, give or take, but my instinct, I ignore, so I’m sucked into the initial belief of the fake sun. I see my friends rushing out of the bus and to the water park. I guess I should follow. But somebody tells me I shouldn’t. Somebody is resentment.

I don’t want to go. Consciously, I don’t know why. Subconsciously I believe I have my hate of the journey because of my mental disposition. A child with super mild autism, my social skills suck. My navigation skills are impaired to the point where it becomes a problem each and every day. Crowded halls, big cities, theme parks, anything densely populated; they are the absolute last thing I’d want to be in.

The only tight spaces I would be happy to be in would most likely be lifeless, plastic and secluded, a feeling of a flowing nothing in my veins. Detached from society. I hate this side of me, so I give it its own desired seclusion in my mind, leaving an imitator of normality to be fleshed out. This side of me wants to be happy, social…[sexual]…amongst other things.

Back in this life I live, I give and equally take heat. I walk past the pool meant for the super young children. Sgt. Walrus’s Kazoo, or something like that. There is a part of my mind that tells me to go in. I believe to be the youngest part…but I’ve always been worried that in that brain space is something worse, something far darker.

Never mind to that now, a confession to those impulses would surely mean self-destruction. I continue to walk forward. One of my middle-school friends – his name is Jacob…perhaps Matthew – says hey to me, stops me in my tracks, and tells me this rumor that last year some 50 year old drowned in the kiddy pool. I don’t remember how I responded; I just didn’t care at the time. Man I wish I had.

I am in an outdoor hall of blue lockers, slimy and disgraced by a youthful obsession with reproduction. This hallway is fifteen lockers on each side. I am depressed that I can find figures that are the purest, dedicated, most innocent never-reverends finding themselves forced to stuff these Hellish chambers with what they have brought with themselves today.

I quickly find myself removed from said fifteen locker long hallway, again surrounded by the artificial world of crisp corruption and melting sun. A beam of melting lemon washes my soul while the acid of that citrus poisons my mind. The fake grass looks and feels a Hell, is a Hell, but is tolerated. The views are amazingly peaceful and calmly apocalyptic. The noises are distant faded memories brewed to the brim with nostalgia and manufactured joy. I am surrounded by a sensation of hardly describable emotions.

To top it all off, from somewhere far away, I can smell the ocean.

There are muffled noises invading my ear, probably a mix of child’s screams, water crashing and least lovely gluttony. My ears are not my focus, though. I would rather now depict the sensation that crawls amongst my feet. A waffled floor mat strikes a million miniature machetes into the souls of my feet, disarming the connections of muscle and begging my body to bleed.

An unavoidable invader. I look forward and focus in on the reality of the area in front of me. It is the Thunder Bay wave pool. It’s an aggressive blue bowl of soap, suds, tubes, people, and obviously yet in the disturbingly least, water. Its splashes are much too far perfect to be a natural pattern. Its variations are sufficient for its own goals, but it could not compete with the heartbeat of the Pacific Ocean…Atlantic Ocean. I can’t remember which anymore.

I look in the wave pool from a disturbing distance as I realize I know a lot of kids who are swimming in that body. I walk ninety degrees around the wave pool at that disturbing distance where I may observe safely but never interact. I find a map, colored with fake paints and dishonest directions. It tells me The Thunderdome is to the North with a slight Eastern tilt, as I stand North by Northwest. I turn to face the Northern land titled to the Eastern, and it provides a pathway of solid poison cream molded into blocks showing me my way. I tilt in the Eastern direction to go to The Thunderdome.

I walk by many attractions and find that everything as I knew it from the previous time I was here is the same. I’m comforted by this. I walk past the circus pool which was meant for the much younger kids…and again, what I believe to be the youngest part of my brain…though could as well be something far more disturbing…tells me that I want to go in.

No, this time it was not just my immaturity talking. This shallow pool is legitimately heavenly. The still water is a swimming experiment in pleasure. The sunlight beaming off it is the sparkles of angels. There’s a big plastic elephant using his trunk to spray himself with an endless supply of filtered, hydrating water. He looks like God taking a shower. The only thing I’m not a huge fan of is the jungle gym, but even that looks remotely attractive in its sparkle of bright red. I want to go…but I don’t…because I can’t…because I know I shouldn’t.

BECAUSE THEY TOLD ME I SHOULDN’T.

Because I’ll puke.

Thunderdome
Thunderdome?

I’ve never been here before now, I’ve only heard stories from my friends. It looks damn different from my expectations. First, like any other major water slide at this theme park, you go up a tower of grated stairs. Granted this was an exceptionally huge tower.

The “slide” curves upwards to the open sky firstly. I guess the kids are vacuumed across the ride when they first step in. The impossibly operating tsunami swims smoothly and changes direction forty-eight times, typically going up. After the gigantic maze in the air, the slide turns finally to fall down, this last part of the slide veraciously tumbling to the end of life.

By the time this starts, it’d be safe to say you are a hundred feet in the air. I couldn’t tell you the slide is safe; but I’m sure it’s some sort of a thrill for the kids. Such a thrill that it gives them a Goddamn heart attack. They go so fast, their heart runs like the sparks of a race car in the Dayton. The faster the car, the faster the heart, the better the sparks.

The red potato becomes a damn beach ball, blue veins pumping like a liquid art, stretched and tortured, to the point where their minds end themselves with no suicide note, and the world becomes a sadistic rainbow. Then the entire gluttonous audience gets to watch that beach ball leak out yellow puss and send lightning strikes to seize the body one muscle at a time before it finally bursts and ends all pressure for the heart…filling the empty void with torture tactics Satan wishes he had patented.

The feeling of awakening from a daydream can’t be done justice in the most accurate description. I’ll leave it as this…it’s…remarkably similar to emerging from water.

My feet flood with uncomfortable unrest as I walk to the end of the presumably heavily redesigned Thunderdome. I look at the bottom of the end of the slide, where one would depart from the ride and land in a small pool. I observe a curved structure standing from the surface of the slide near the end. The slide has dipped in such a way that landing on the structure lunging out of the slide would launch the luckiest rider flying.

This final journey I speak of is a pair of steel slides that looked like dwarf Siamese fetuses to where it stood in the Thunderdome. It freezes in the flowing water and burns alive in the aggressive sunlight. I assume the goal of this pair of steel slides is for the rider of the Thunderdome to slip into one of the two slides, fly off the end, and try to dunk themselves in the landing pool. Never mind that most likely failure leads to slicing your body in half. But the weirdest goddamn thing wasn’t those slides. It had planted itself near the bottom of this pair of steel slides, but it wasn’t them. Resting in the flowing water, breathing at the edge of life, he is an octopus.

My mind screamed and my eyes laughed.



I am completely aware it’s a cliche, but in the cruelest of sense, I find it too hilariously obvious not to use it. Friends and neighbors, ladies and gentlemen, this was no ordinary octopus.

This, children of all ages, was a dual mouthed octopus. In addition to the normal oral cavity, this creature possessed a second mouth directly below its eyes. It was a perfect circle at an odd angle, the interior of it black and blank. It possessed the current minds of its consumption.

It would, in predation, open the mouth quickly, but not without a little sharp kickback to the face. The stickiness and… Ummm… Wow. The thing that should not be, he has started to suck the air like a vacuum cleaner. So, long in the short of it is, if you do somehow land a three-pointer into the steel slides of doom, you’re going to be sucked into the mouths of this octopus. I’d call you the luckiest man in history if you could find a way to avoid him.

I can’t stop laughing at this. Not with the madness of it all. Not with the cartoonish aspects of the motion. I wish I could tell you that it’s all some weird ass parody. Hell, I should tell you it’s all some weird ass parody. But it isn’t. And that all snapped in place to me when I saw the theoretical in reality. I saw a kid slip into the steel slide, rushing excitedly to his presumed demise. That is when my subconscious thoughts were fully acknowledged. The damn thing didn’t have teeth. And the implications of that…the implications were faced, but reluctantly. You should not do as I did.

When a kid was sucked into the vacuum of the Octopus, they went in head first typically… How the positioning was manipulated so that would be the case you will have to ask somebody else than I. The octopus would catch the child’s heads and wrap his lips around as much of the scalp that could fit. It slowly crawled, spewing every ooze invited, until it was able to ingest the skull and skin of the boy smoothly.

The lips would dig into the shoulders, slicing the arms off of the body, so that it could swallow the poor child whole. The arms did not separate from the body, though; instead they coursed across the waist, hips, thighs, calves of the human body like it was pasted to the flesh. The octopus would swallow the toes finally, and now the arms would fully detach from the body, being the body was now gone inside of the octopus. The arms would run away in the artificial current, blood pouring, blood salty and thick, blood everywhere, salty and thick, landing in the disposal pile right in front of the slide…[salty and thick]…

My eyebrows tightened. Hypothetical ideas became possibilities. I lurked under the slide and examined the bloody disposal pile of human arms, miscellaneous notes of disgust crawling slippery on my body. There was one detached with a wrist watch. The one Jacob – Matthew? – was wearing when he told me about the 50 year old creep. I was shocked for a second, knew true and well that I failed horribly for my friend. I looked at it again. The skin was much tanner than my friend. The watch was a different brand. But the potential of somebody I cared about became reality just long enough for it to be emotional.

I came from below the slide and jumped into it. I planned to jump and tackle the slimy beast. I slipped backwards and hit my shoulders against the edge of the sharp blue plastic. The octopus then turned its attention to me, and sucked the air around it. The glowing ruby in his eyes and the vast emptiness of his mouth made me realize my foot would be caught in the mouth of this miniature Cthulhu if I did not take action. I ran fast, but I made a bad mistake. In my adrenaline rush, I ran towards the small pool where kids were supposed to live. My foot felt the slime of a predator crawl against its ankle. I fell downwards, hit my Adam’s apple against the edge of the plastic slide, and barely clutched onto those edges as I could feel my neck split in half.

I barely had the strength to crawl out alive. I pulled out the extra fuel in my tank and did a pitiful somersault into the small pool. My foot was free and I swam with only my arms to make it to the fake, cutting grass. I felt the sun’s warmth of safety and temperature bathe me as I lay dying. I fell asleep, dreamless…I woke up sometime later. My eyes felt tired with confusion. I looked to the Thunderdome. Nothing had changed. Just as I had feared. The octopus stayed in its place, killing all who dare to think there is fun in suicide. I had to fight it. But what could I do? I had wasted my resources. And he had wasted mine.

So I strode aimlessly through WaterWorld, just as before.

Metropolis
The mountain made in front of me is a mastodon of man made progress. A climbing skyscraper comprised of glass clad cement. A super monster of rough, scratchy smoothness, the feeling it imposes is of repulsion magnetism. The way a magnet reacts to another magnet when it has the same electric charge. I pet the cement and my hand nearly broke off of its wrist to escape this magnetic death.

It left a mental torture of realization to be brought unto my mentality. I walked into the door of the building, but a door it never felt like, I saw inside of it a pedophiles gate to Hell. Maroon red, rotten yellow doorknob, scratches amongst an innocently structured shape pattern. Two rectangles carved into the wood. That’s it. The worst is that there had to be and somebody who would make it the demon’s artistic masterpiece. Somebody out there.

Inside the building is a lukewarm cold cavern of manufactured amusement. It swims in the grayest of colors, love lost and never truly found, only faked. Dug into the cement floors were two pools, filled with water that were chemically treated Jello. There were two humans in each pool, not by force but by chance and will. They were pathetic creatures.

People who had wasted their lives on agreement to being hypnotized by the man and the market, suffering in return freedom and an organic composition. I walked. Every step I took felt molesting. I could feel saliva in a thick wet coat all across the cement floors, each step peeled off somebody’s skin. It was wrong. I looked at the pools. I looked at their shapes. One was an innocent rectangle. The other was an octopus.

The room itself is shaped like a Tetris piece. A rectangle with a much slimmer rectangle as its Siamese twin. The floor that holds the pools of fake hydration rests with a ceiling towering fifty feet above it. In the left corner of the room, inside the Siamese twin, there is a levitating platform maybe seven feet below the ceiling, made of the same stuff the floor I stand upon is. There is a giant ladder that leads twenty feet into the air, into the wall. Into the wall, one would step into an elevator that looks perfectly sliced in half. They would be lifted in the air for a few feet only to have to climb the same stairs 20 feet higher.

I had a strange and probably false epiphany. My mind made a very strange connection. But I passed it out of my mind. I swept it away. I, with life sucked out of my feet, climbed a million miles up the ladder towards the curious elevator. The ladder was not a grated plastic like the rest of the lot in Water World.

This one was tin, like a ladder that you would buy at a home improvement store. It sliced into my heels and souls like a million knives, carving so subtly yet so painfully, reaching into my mortality, trying to bring me into submission. Any sane man would have stopped by now, but not with the purple light in front of me. Not with the purple beam of sanity I was chasing. Not now. Ever.

I rode the elevator. It was a complete zone of blackness. I was engulfed into a sugary ribbon of misery and despair. I felt like puking but didn’t have the physical body to do so. I rode the great black elevator and came to the second half of the ladder. It was the same material, but slanted so it was nearly horizontal, it’s platforms also much bigger. I dashed and hopped across the field of heavenly serial killers to meet with the curious, stony platform that crept at the top of the building. I had run for twenty feet then to take a sharp left turn to land upon the platform that continued to draw me. When I was resting, I was greeted by two men in black suits.

These two men welcomed me to my final destination. They worded it this way exactly. They had the stoniest, grim faces, but built up my “final destination” as a palace of ultimate pleasure. They told me I was “the first in line.” From there on a self-recruited army of children, my age, my gender…my personality…came charging like a stampede of wildebeest and leaped off the platform. But they did not fall and crash their bodies to blood and pulp. Instead they flew in mid-air, backs to the ground. I saw it.

Against the greasy, grey walls and air, I could not see it camouflaged. But here it is. This gigantic behemoth. This Cthulhu of a water slide. The floor I stood on when I entered this building vanished, and I could see the entire structure. A waterslide that seemingly went down a portal through the floor, continued for a mile before gradually but quickly growing darker in atmosphere, so much so that only a couple hundred feet down it was pitch black. And it would only keep getting blacker for another mile.

I looked down in disbelief. I was trapped. I asked the men in suits what the Hell was going on. They told me that they were confused. I was the one confused. They said “You were here, first in line, and you don’t even know what’s right in front of you?” I refused to respond to that question. After some intimidating silence, the man on the left responded. “You are standing in front of the ultimate water slide ever created. We have no name for it yet…”

“Probably never will” the man on the right interjected.

“But we’ve already begun advertisement. We’re building it as the slide from the day after tomorrow. The slide of the apocalyptic future. A hypothetical time machine, transcending ages and millenniums. Darker, horrifying, disturbing, the more and more you fall. And if you fall down-”

“DAVID!” The man on the right interjected – whom I had noticed had an older look, a stonier build, wrinkles in his skin – “You can’t give away the secret to him before he even gets on the slide! Do you know about marketing?”

“Tell me!” I yelled. “Tell me you stupid, stupid fuckers!” I yelled. “I already saw an octopus eat my friend over at Thunderdome. What the Hell happens on this slide? What’s happening to those kids you just let fall down forever? What happens at the end of the apocalypse?”

David chuckled. He grasped my shoulders, leaned in, whispered into my ear. This was not pleasurable. I could feel a Mothman crawl up against my spine. “At the end of the apocalypse…you die.”

He shoved me down into the slide. All hope was lost.

The Day After Tomorrow
Normality is fear in and of itself if contemplated to fit contentment. Normality here is a misty, gray never realms surrounding a masochistic amusement ride, that ride filled with a fake water tainted with cleansing poison and youngling shit. Normality for you too may be such in the beautiful sun bathed days of spring break. Normality is Hell on Earth even if it had disguised itself in a massive entity. Imagine going through Hell fifty times for five thousand miles, and in those fifty thousand miles your perception of Hell beginning to change in the most psychotic of fashions.

Poison has become apparent but expected; the subtle feces have become normality by choice and not by circumstance. As if you knowingly reverted to a mental state which you originally were in unknowingly, now having adopted it in order to deal with that which is blackened but cannot be extinguished. Then when your psyche cannot handle the reality of the dead water, it will begin to bond with it. You will love what made you dead. Feel the horrors of man’s callous progress flow inside of your beating heart about to break. Accept the manufactured state of eternal content as your one true and dark savior. I became friends with what was killing me. Can you? I thank nature for this moment, for it prepared me for what was about to take place.

After an endless journey, the slide rushed through a projected but nonexistent floor and into a vast, white space of near hopelessness. It was filled to the brim with dark blue dyed water, the ability to perceive the white glory beyond it only attained by familiarization with the nature of the colors surrounding it. I was wondering if I would be able to see colors that were not visible. The slide flowed at lightning speeds through this divine nauseousness, and at the end I could see a portal to a distant kingdom of hopelessness and despair. There was a castle, shorter than the average man, built with two towers, a flag upon each, and a bridge connecting the two.

On each side there were two young men, three tanned and white and one a black boy. They firmly levitated on their knees, red handkerchiefs tied around their heads, creating their own foreign silence. They were all young men but they were nude, nude, nude, naked I mean they were naked and being whipped and anally stabbed by a forty year old man, a forty, no fifty year old man who looked like a crossover between a newborn and a caveman. Their eyes were bloodshot; their souls piss yellow, their hearts broken, battered and scared. When I reached this destination, they told me to proceed as I had intended, for I had sinned and therefore was exempt of this punishment.

Beyond those castle walls, I exited this world by a different portal. Water drained but fluidity remained. I floated and felt the chlorine infested mess swarm against my naked and exposed skin, but yet no visible liquid was present. I floated above a church hall, observing all the marvelous blacks and reds of normality. I swam, breathless, towards the massive doors of the church in hopes that escape may be a possibility. I turn back and see, at the apse, instead of a man speaking to the children of his golden savior, was a King sitting upon his thrown with his naked Queen. Their bodies personified moist corruption, hatred for everybody and love for all of their addendums.

These perversions of lust wallowed in their own rape. They were faceless. And when it dawned upon me that…that…[I will never die]…I was no longer stable in my invisible pool of wetness. It began to thicken, thicken, thick, thicken to where it would be harder to navigate than a pool of the frail man’s blood. I couldn’t control myself so I let it all in and that thick fuck fucked me in the throat. It smelled of a detached testicular sack, detached as a means of punishment.

Force began to swell upon my legs as the sweat like water began to swirl. At first it swelled in a calming, lazy river kind of way, and now it is faster and faster and faster to the point where there is no control of my body nor my vision and everything is a swimming acid trip of poisonous, raping sweat. My brain leaked into my eyes, which could now be seen to have been devoid of any iris. The vitreous humor fused with the pink jelly of my brain, my teeth melded into my lips, my heart burst out of my throat. Before I could identify any more of my punishment, I was swiftly transported to the next stage of my waterslide.

I fell down from a gargantuan storm of clouds. A storm of clouds that were sheep melted into bloody maple syrup, looking on through the frayed ends of insanity that would one day – hopefully – bring them to death. Water dissipated around me as I fell through the dead clouds. The world around me was the colors of pollution, that color a barren landscape of evil blacks so overwhelmed by the shit stained browns that they seemed welcoming and warming. I fell firmly atop a pile of dead bodies, each one naked, and each one with the expression of a molested human. They were not tightly packed; they were fairly spread apart.

Underneath their flesh was a black cement paving that was as cold as hate yet melted as the emotions and intelligence of a man who would have made it this far. I looked up, and an older woman, most likely within retiring age, shoved her fist into the asshole of a young woman’s dead corpse. She took out a sprinkling shit, which she proceeded to feed to a two-headed wolf. Her husband was doing something similar a small distance away. I lifted myself up upon dead men and women, and felt a presence. I felt a presence from ten million years behind my body. Sometime, far away, somewhere in this horrid dimension, hid the gatekeeper of Hell. A three headed being owned by the melting man known as Hades. His pet, his playmate, the dog that would find any sinner and tear him to a single shred of flesh. Somewhere, so strong that I could feel his presence a continent away, laid Cerberus.

All the bodies dissipated. They melted into the ground like a snail obliterated by salt. The cold, melting pavement transformed into a prickly, solid, smooth, cutting rock. The bodies rose again, baked and prepared, so they became shit. Raw, cold, shit, shit that has been collected from the normality that seemed so distant at this point. This land was no longer a somewhat flat location but a vast mountainous empire, created by a million soldiers. They picked the shits of the dead bodies and lodged them into spacious, prickling wheat sacks. All of these soldiers are men, all of them were grown, and all of them were nude.

Once the smooth, putrid remains of every dead man, woman and child were collected into sacks as currency, they were forever pushed to be placed atop a mountain. At the tip it would collapse over the mountain and tumble down the other side, now to be pushed against a larger behemoth. This cycle would continue until the sky broke and unbelievable torture would truly reign against these children, unbelievable torture that makes these visions look like goddamn paradise. I relies the day when it comes, for I hope I never need to see it. I looked up, and the clouds had become flat, lifeless, generic and paper. Good for them, bad for me. But one split upon itself to reveal a brown tornado of pulsing lifeblood, his eyes pulsating more intensely than any other aspects of this tornado, staring down at me with a self-quenching grin. I was sucked into his greed, and I was taken again through my trip in this water world.

Inside of the tornado I was taken in a somehow safe canoe. The entire world was now completely monochrome; a slithering shit colored orange-brown had completely taken over my mentality. The man rowing the canoe was a naked, bipedal goat with a face more demented than the orgasmic fantasies of a man that no psychopath would ever approach if they were in the right of their own damaged mind. Surrounding me was a view a continent wide, detailed in every distance, of a bloody, bubbling flood. I had come to the conclusion that I was to be thrown into this melting pot. Before I could really start to see what was inside of this death land, the water from before swarmed around me again. I could feel the rapist sweat eat away at my skin, flaking and hurting and taking everything away from me. I choked on it forever.

I could not see the water, as I could not before, but I could feel it and all of its tentacle qualities. But now that I had been fucked in the mouth, I could look to the flood which was separated from my own drowning. Inside of the blood black flood was either a small child, drawn into this world by treachery - or an old, decrypted human being punished for something that they had become far separated from. They begged my captain to save their souls, they begged me to save their souls, but in the end they continued to drown until the beast of emotion trapped them in his own pleasure whirl. One woman was against the color of this world, a beastly green, her left arm cut at the elbow, her right arm joining the shoulder joint to her left elbow. Her vagina had been coded onto her forehead. She screamed eternally with no mouth and with no mentality.

My mind goes blank here for two worlds. /h killed me during this time.

While two raped pirates consulted themselves about the fate of me and my fellow young men, I was subject to the next world. Forced to fuck atop the back of a dragon whose head was that of a wise man, mind that of a corrupted Satan, I flew in a flat black and gray world. This paper thin existence was that of an endless abyss, shadows forever flowing down the legs of this unstable eternity. To my left I could see the branded stamp of a hawk wing into the roundest pillar in this world, welcoming in relevance to every other creation in this world, but to you the most freighting you could ever lay your eyes upon.

The world was robbed of its temperature and its moisture, the driest and coldest existence that God could create. The dragon gave birth to a million demons with humongous pitchforks in their hands, which they used when they attacked two innocent philosophers at the tip of a melted pillar. These new young babies with the faces of the abomination of Notre Dame proceeded to penetrate the lost, wise souls, who then bled from only their brains and not a drop of blood from the rest of their body. I cannot expand further. This world was complete solitude. Lifeless, heatless, solitude.

Long after the human headed dragon disappeared, I descended down a path along a melted pillar. The endless abyss was surprisingly complimented by a boiling pot of boulders and inferno temperature liquid gold. The sparkling gems of this world vanished when I had finally reached this destination. I looked down, coldest as ever in this melting pot, and saw my final destination.

There were two promises made to me when I looked down into this awful blast of light, this separation of solid rock which had me believing I could live longer. There were two promises; one was escape, and the other forever entrapment. I saw flashes of Satan trapped in the coldest layers of eternity, I saw flashes of a man chained to a water well that drained him of his existence, that water well guarded by his nude grandparents. I had two promises and one exit, chose neither and I stay in this frozen wasteland forevermore. I made my choice.

Congo
Where is life when you need it most?

I awaken in a vast, long, narrow and twisted passageway. It twists and turns like the pain of a constant change with no impact. My waking spot lies not inches apart from the ending of this hallway. I cannot see a thing, for it is blacker than a cold apocalypse. I step backwards and feel the walls of ending and that is how I know where I am. I look forward and there is nothing, nothing but pure unidentifiable existence. My mind fills this world with pure thought and electric impulse. A swarm of uncontrolled consciousness, the knowledge of not the man nor the ape nor the reptile nor the amoeba before…but something of pure stimulated life.

A singularity of reality appears. As my eyes grow blacker, the world in front grows brighter, expanding that singularity, until it explodes into a faint blast of light. I climb forward by my feet. Each step is not painful, each step is not torture, each step is rather easy. Too easy. Each step is flawless, weightless, soundless. I am a silent Olympian. The loss of previously present effort is another addition to my loneliness. My person loses purpose, my thoughts dissipate and my mind becomes frozen while the aura around me becomes more and more silenced. My feelings become useless and my goals eradicated, the walls an endless journey forced by the ease that tortures me… It’s God laughing at me for being nothing.

It’s been five hours cancelled into negative seconds. I look to my right. The endless blast of artificial benevolence lifts its heavenly arms into my insanity. My eyes are burnt of their black, drizzling coat of darkness. There is a gigantic slab, colored browns and whites, true birth color a dead black. It is a dead slice of Earth, drowned of all colorful life, now a bland expression of death. It is slowly eroding, and one day it will be an endless ocean of driest dust and blackest brown rock.

This slab horrifies my subconscious, and the awakened part of me – whatever still remains – is absolutely terrified. I am afraid. I am afraid like a little child pissing their fucking pants because the goddamn boogeyman is going to get them. I’m afraid. I’m afraid mommy I’M FUCKING AFRAID. This thing, this damn water park, this Hellhole, whatever it is, really got me now. After putting me through all this, they decide to take away my last breath of hope and sympathy for life. In front of the rock slab, trapped inside of a large glass rectangle, is an elephant.

The purest, most thoughtful, most innocent animal, already condemned to the most prolonged and horrifying of deaths. He stands in front of me, dead, ruined, annihilated. Poached…and not treated. He is exhibited with half of his head blown off; his eyelids burnt away, every protrusion of corruption and rape detailed in his cranium, barely able to make out the emotion of fear and doom. It is the look of the most precious life form brought to his knees and suffered in the burning fire of King Goddamn. He is the face of God succumbed to the Devil and made his bitch.

I look forward and abandon the ultimate evil, but the vision of the poached elephant continues to haunt my everlasting existence. I puke forward miles of the fake water that had entered my world. It exits my mouth, while my emotions burst through the top of my skull and commits sensual suicide.

My spine snaps in half and finds an exit in the skin of my back, springing to death in eagerness. My arms rot at the joint and slide off, slowly, effortlessly, happily. I give every effort in my power to end my existence, but alas, Hellfire has no alternative. I look forward, wondering if there is any exit, and all I can see is more poached animals. There is an ostrich with its heart ripped out of its body, head fixed into the vacant space. There is a zebra that has been forced to have its own leg shoved in itself anally. There is a fierce tiger hung by its teeth. There is a horse with its skin stripped away and the body’s remaining anatomy turned inside out.

There is a mother cow forced to eat her calf. These loving animals are forced to these atrocities for the exhibition to no paying visitors. I walk for a million miles. I see tens of thousands of these animals. All my memories flash back at me. So it is that I realize my fate. I will never leave. Eternity has control of my soul. I will continue to walk forevermore, the animals becoming progressively more and more at a loss of innocence…visions unimaginable… thoughts unbearable… forever. I’m stuck. Forever. I’m doomed.

God has abandoned me where he has abandoned all souls raped by the same two men.

Written by I, Da Cashman