What will Hell sound like?

I visited Hell once.

I didn’t like it.

It sounded like chainsaws gnawing through trees, it’s ferocious teeth ripping through fibers, the splinters yanked off and sent flying like so many hunks of flesh.

It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, the screeeeech gripping it’s talons around your spine and blowing it’s icy breath between the vertebrae.

It sounded like a pen rapping against a clipboard, a declaration of judgment with every hollow thud that mimics the racing of your beating heart.

It sounded like projectile vomit splashing against the toilet bowl, gurgling as your stomach protests against any sustenance and the bile bubbles within you like poison in a witch’s cauldron.

It sounded like a fire alarm, deafening your ears with the screams of panic as flames lick at the exposed skin and devour your trembling nerves and tender dermis layers.

It sounded like angry children wailing, the cries of the self-righteous railing against you and drawing the noose tighter as you struggle against the constraints to pacify the mob with empty promises that will never satisfy.

It sounded like squealing violins, their foul notes clinging to the air like the last breath of life as the bow delays the swing of the ax and prolongs the inevitable slaughter.

I visited Hell once.

I didn’t like it.

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