The flames pour from the pig's mouth. The smoke billows from its eye sockets. Hell glows in the distance. Its gates are wide open. The bones decorate the landscape. I stare into the eyes of Satan, who smiles at me.
Save me. The swine's horns, the fires of retribution for an act never committed. The bones that spread over the land, like an omen. The catalepsy of the living allows them to burn in silence. There are no screams. There is an echoing laughter, spreading under the black clouds of the storm overhead. Hear the voice of the thunder? It doth resound.
Save me from the armies. The cup overflows, with crimson that washes down the edges, into the grass. Meet the reaper. The pig burns. Heads are severed. Skeletons hang. The shadow of sandman covers the sleeping children, one by one. Death is riding into the towns. The cities burn, not slowly. The angel of destruction spreads its wings. Death descends. The hand of god is coming down.
Save me. The eyes are dilated, the pupils are gone. They're white, and they bleed. The laughing echoes in my mind. I hug my knees. I wonder if you hear my voice. The voice of your little brother.
The crows are cannibals. The locusts are starving. The plagues, like fire in a dry forest. The condemned pour from the open gates, trampling eachother and killing everything that they see. Famine. The mouth of the abyss opens wide. The hands of Hell reach to the blackness of the sky, writhing. Satan's feathers fall like snow. The messenger watches. A psychopath who knows no morality. My legs are heavy. I try to crawl away, but I feel the hands reaching, grabbing. My hands, and arms, my face, and my throat. The crowd swallows me. The fire rises over our heads. My voice is unheard. The pandemonium swallows my screams.
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