Hell, no parole

Here we wake to the sounds of a bloody battle in one of the lower circles of hell A short crawl out of bed, the floor is soaked in stomach acid

Hell, no parole

Here we awake to a riot of dolls and stuffed animals. A battle for domination of the lower hells A short crawl out of bed, the carpet is soaked in stomach acid. This driving hunger makes us mad. Eating soul things that pulse and quiver in our mouths. Even here in hell the pecking order is established. The small and week have all eternity to know the torment of the bully's.

Just yesterday I saw three skinheads holding a black man's head under hot steaming urine that boils from deep pits in the floor. This level of hell is a big house with endless rooms. The saved souls move around outside watching merrily through the windows. Enjoying our suffering. I glare back with the rage of the seven years dead. Seven years here so far, all eternity to go. Everyone try's to break out the house's glass windows, but it can't be done. The best thing about hell is that you can die anytime and be comatose till the next day till you suffer and reform again. I shake a bitter fist at the christian God, Doomed here forever while his faithful gloat outside. I schemed rebellion, over throw , revenge. It was all I had. In my head I could see myself shattering the windows and pulling the saved screaming into hell. My rivalry was interrupted by some gangsters, all Hispanic.They started peeing on me while I dreamt my red dreams. I was still on the floor from a previous morning injury that left my lower body useless. Some asshole whacked me with a crow bar right after I reformed.

Back to the gangsters. All I could do was to try and drag myself up the nearest one's leg biting along the way. Out came the blades , several slashing at once. I fell back onto the floor and I was then stomped to death. The rest of the day was a haze , a distant throbbing pain but better than the day by day afterlife here.

-REFORM-

Again I rise reformed and whole, in bed with me is an old man. The age you died at is the age you stay at forever here. He is curled up in the fetal position and taking up too much of the bed. There is a blood encrusted lead pipe at the foot of the bed. I pick it up and swing into his head, shattering his skull, he died instantly. I did him a favor why suffer like that when you can go out quick? Reforming is strange, always we start out in beds. Sometimes alone, sometimes with others. I know the room I'm in pretty well. It has rusty barb wire thorns lining the walls and ceiling. Flys that smell of shit and semen buzz about the room and land on your lips. I keep hold of the lead pipe and I get out of bed, ever watchful of possible threats that might hurt me. I wave the pipe around trying to bat away the flys as they circle me. I dash out of the room swinging, the way the rooms are on the map are different each day. I'm in the kerosene room now, The stale smelling kero is up to my ankles, above is a series of ladders up and burning censors all over for anyone to throw in and burn those below, it's sixty feet to the door on the other side and it's closed, maybe even locked, I run for it , splashing through the kerosene. I hear the hiss of thrown down censors, but I'm threw the doorway before the whoosh of igniting kerosene lights up the room behind me. Another narrow escape, but my luck can only hold out so long. It's strange how one's will to survive never exhausts, even when in a spiritual form designed to die painfully. As I enter this new run in a run I come face to face with a six pack of skinheads, all of them armed with three foot long insect stingers, and fresh shanks carved from human bones.

"Well lookie here, It's a little faggot!" , Declared one pit bull like skinhead.

"Who's butthole did you crawl out of, you piece of shit?', Asked another one.

"Hey, give us a blowjob and maybe we won't torture you!", Said a third. These skinheads are a blow job lovin crowd. They don't even care if it's male or female that mouths their fat ugly cocks, as long as someone does it, even smaller members of their own group. I know these scum. They seem to be enjoying hell. Surely they belong on a lower ring. Rumors has it that there are secret trap doors that plunge the unlucky down to the next level down, how I want to find these traps and use them. Three skinheads approach me at a bull like run, I pivot and twist to avoid two of them , but the third rams me to the ground, with the big stinkin bastard's crushing wait on top of me. I struggle wildly, knowing what comes next. The pack is closeng in on me and all seems hopeless. I hear the familiar should of a zipper going down, fucking god dammit. "Open your mouth little girly", Orders the erect and approacheng skinfag. They're was the sound of a speargun dart jetting across the room and the skinfag screamed in pain, an dart was sunk deep into his back.As the skinheads let me go to face this new enemy the way was clear so I could see who it was, the old avenger! I knew the blessed in a damned world old avenger from many incarnations. He was feeble, looked about eighty, but he was a good man, probably the best man in hell and he would not put up with sodomy rape while he had any say. They knew him do, and hated him. With a mass bellow of rage the unwounded skins charged the man. I got up and fast as I could, I could use this moment to escape, but I can't leave that crazy old man alone to their aggressive evil, we stand and die together I decided. By the time I was on my feet the quickest skin had sprung onto the man, knocking him to the ground with a rotten wet sound of snapping ribs. "You fucking cocksucking niggers!" , I screamed at them. They turn to face me as I charge them with a primal scream. My heart sank, as they closed in on me, from behind I saw the old man laying there convulsing, blood coming out his mouth, nose, and ears. I try to close in on the leader and stick a finger with a sharpened fingernail into his eye, but he blocks my eyepoke and throws me to the ground. The wind is knocked out of me, I struggle to breath, choking and gasping as they close in with vicious kicks. So much pain, I can barely even move and the first skinhead begins forcing his half erect cock into my face, rubbing it all over my chin, mouth and cheeks while him and his vile friends laugh. I want so much to be dead right now, dead dead dead. Now they pry my fingers back, squeeze my nutsack harder and harder, demanding I open my mouth for the superior cock of pure white man. I still resist and a hail of punches removes my front row of teeth, one of the skinheads has to pick my incisor out of his bleeding fist. Now one had his doctor Martin's boot on my chest, choking the wind from my lungs, while another one is forcing my bleeding mouth open with a crowbar, I'm past fighting now, too weak to even stand up on my own, my ragged mouth opens and a skinhead penis stuffs itself inside it. It stiffens in my mouth, what a foul taste! Over my choking and vomiting around dude's unwashed member I hear his buddy's saying things like "Suck it bitch!". So I sick up around bastard's stiffy, and it puddles around it's base and drips down.

"Oh you dirty faggot!", forced blow job recipient screams as he begins punching me in the head over and over while the others laugh that dude 'came puke'. the kicks and punches continue till I black out into the vegitive state between the daily re-births, I hover there for hours, mostly unknowing.