My Life of Hell

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What was hell? Hell was a fiery pit of loneliness—never ending torment and pain. I never really believed that there was a better place after your heart stopped beating. There was no magical force that was going to make everything better in the world. All there was was now. The present. You can't believe in darkness without believing in light so I also never believed that there was an evil force to punish you for all eternity—that seemed a little steep. The only person that was going to hold you accountable for what you have done is yourself—your conchence. That seemed to be punishment enough. To have to look at your face everyday and know that you can never change the past. It keeps you up at night. That was hell. You can never get away from yourself.

My life had been pretty pleasant. I grew up in a small town that bordered the west end of England. It was named after the founder of the land Mr. Petersonsway. The population was fairly small with only around two hundred people and it was dwindling by the day. It was a dying town—people that founded the place were dying off day by day and the children of the founders were growing up and moving to the big city for work. Farming was becoming a thing of the past and factory work was more alive then ever. Businesses were booming and the demand for people growing.

Petersonsway wasn't the only small town in the area—Landonpresent was just down the river. But other than that we were out in the middle of no where. That was where I had grown up and I planned to stay as long as I could. You might think, “why don't both Petersonway and LanodnPreset join and make a bigger town?” This is reasonable thinking—but there was a petty rivalry between us. Landonsprest was a mining town and they w...

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...l to my knees. “How are you guys still alive?” I asked through gasps for air.

He knelt down beside me, “same way you are.” He said simply, after a small pause he elaborated further. “They make sacrifices every week to the 'monster.' We cook up the meal and eat it. For water, one of the walls has a small trickle that constantly drips down it.”

Looking up at the tunnel all I could think about was how I would never see the clouds again, or another sunset, or sit on my favorite stump. This was hell. The one and only. Sure it wasn't a never ending inferno but it was a pit of lonnlyness. To wallow in what could have been for the rest of your days, to sit and wish that things could have been different but never be able to change them. That was the worst pain, worst then the pain in my leg and back, that was the worst torment. You can never get away from yourself.

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