the rage that ruined my body

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i stand in the panelled window of my room, a dying gaze staring at the street outside. a child stands outside, bicycle balanced between his thighs. he bites into a loquat he stole from my father's garden, bits of the chewed up fruit falling out of his mouth as he laughs obnoxiously at his friend who's squatting down next to my neighbour's gate, messing with their dog. 

i stand dully, my hands loosely beside my thighs with my back slumped in defeat. every day i see the same child in front of my house, his friend and the bird that flies into my window. 

abruptly, said bird smashes itself into the glass -- i don't flinch. i can feel it, as much as i try and fight against it i can feel myself go. 

i stand on a mountain, a gush of ice-cold wind biting at my skin. i've stopped carrying a jacket with me, it only gets in the way at my next location -- besides, i've grown used to the cold. 

the wind howls around me, scatters of white blinding my sight. i'll soon run out of oxygen and as much as i wish i'd die from it, my suffering isn't over yet. 

i fall down into a squat and hug myself, burying my face into my knees. 'a few more minutes of this,' i think to myself as the horrifying echoes of the mountains devour me. my gut twists at the thought of my next destination, i can never get used to that one. 

my teeth clatter, as my limbs begin to hurt. just like that, for a mere millisecond i feel my body fall from a great height. 

like a dying bug i frantically move my arms and legs around as i rush to catch my breath. i try to remind myself to keep calm but i've already swallowed a gulp of water and my nose begins to sting from the water that's beginning to drown my lungs. 

my vision is blurred and i can't see the surface. there is no 'above', i'm stuck in a vast endless body of water. no matter how hard i try to master the other locations, the water never fails to crush me. it flows through every inch of my body and it's my longest stay. 

sometimes i think it enjoys watching me die. 

however death doesn't meet me yet. 

just as the water burns my body inside out, i find myself on the burning concrete of my street, my entire body drenched in water. 

the stupid child and his bastard friend gasp and stare at me in horror. to them, i appeared out of nowhere, to me i've seen this exact expression on their faces a thousand times. 

i watch his mouth open to scream at me, warn me to get out of the way but i don't care. 

i have to relive my death a million times and no matter where i shift, to try and dodge the truck, it follows me. these past 48 times i've chosen to embrace it. 

a grutle scream leaves his mouth as he jerks his face away from the scene, my head is crushed under the truck's front wheel as i feel my legs shatter beneath it's weight. my body bursting like a bag of blood and bones.

i stand in the panelled window of my room, a dying gaze staring at the street outside. a child stands outside, bicycle balanced between his thighs. he bites into a loquat he stole from my father's garden, bits of the chewed up fruit falling out of his mouth as he laughs obnoxiously at his friend who's squatting down next to my neighbour's gate, messing with their dog. 

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part I of the "people in hell" series. 

it's a collection of stories i've written that speaks from the pov of people in hell. the story you just read is someone's pov that i made up from my understanding of hell in holy scripture. 

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-shir