Hey guys. I usually don’t tag peeps because my blog is more of a personal diary. But I decided to do so today because the post is more literary than personal. Inspiration came from reading @ekwem’s post on mosadiel. I wrote this in 20mins on my lunch break and I’m new to stories so comment kindly. I’ll reply your comments after work. Enjoy.
Relief. Distortion.

I could make out a sea of burgundy mist tainted with what would seem to be miniature black holes. The holes ran across the circumfrence of the tunnel. A void. I was suspended in it. Unending.

Sweet relief. Blinding pain.

The holes would suddenly split my essence into what would have to be at least a million dimensions simultaneously… and then slowly, painfully, regurgitate me and reconstruct my form…

I was a cocktail of random sensations… not so random, for they alternated between the territories of the pleasurable and the excruciating…
I tried to gather myself… this soul-essence state was one that would take some getting used to…
In this form I trully understood limitation.
I knew how everything worked, I was learning how everything felt.
My environment was observed, I can’t say how, but one thing was certain. My field of vision was trans-dimensional. I still had eyes or so I thought, but they saw beyond their axis… glimpses of the world I just left, it must have been seconds ago. Those nails, the vinegar, the scorn. They came in flashes, and an ethreal excruciation accompanied them. I would rather let my conciousness roam these realms. I knew what I had to do here, and I knew how much time I had.

I heard voices. Distant as they were, you could hear their pain, their regret. My soulish heart bled for them, and I was here to save them, but I could not tell them. No one could know. Everything had to go according to plan.

The voices grew louder…
Then from deep within the abyss, I saw him, Abbadon. He smiled at me,as if to be nice to me before the coming onslaught.

Fumes of sulphur and brimstone sifted through my soulish hair as I was dragged in chains to my torture chambers. Abbadon never welcomes anyone personnally but Beelzebub had made sure I was to be dragged into Tartarus by his most senior subordinate. I glimpsed across the great divide and I saw Abraham. He and thousands of other saints stood at the brink of their beautiful paradise, the Elysian fields. Their faces said it all. The Horror. The fear. If the Amasiah had been killed there was obviously no hope. Everyone except Abraham thought this. For he was Elyons friend. And Elyon never Hides anything from him. He probably knew why I was here. He, and only he, smiled faintly as I was dragged out of their view. And I thought to myself, “surely, Elyon has told him”.

There was to be no exception for me. I was to go through the routine like everyone else. That was Beelzebubs way of making me less than divinity. For changing the protocol for me would be akin to his admiting that I was not ordinary. And he would never do that. Pride. I guess falling like lightning hasn’t taught him anything after all these millenia.The torture was to last three human days, and then I would be taken into the throne room, to aknowledge Beelzebub as lord of these realms. Everyone bows to him there. But he would take significant interest in my case. Because I had refused to do so previously. All earths glory is but dung compared to the outskirts of my celestial kingdom, Zion. But here I would not have a choice. All who come here must bow to him. Or so he thought. And right there and then… I would make my move…

I AM the Eternal Rhema.