Not Quite Hellish

by Esfandiar

 

I do not know why I am writing this for you to read. This is the first piece of … I don’t even know what this material is. Let’s call it paper. This is the first piece of paper that I found. This is a strange place. I have no memory of how I got here. I just was here. Am here. Alarmingly, will be here.

This face-shaped thing next to me is blank. It has a mouth. At least I think it’s a mouth. I heard it laughing when I first opened my eyes. A strange laughter.

I cannot understand much else about this place. I can’t get rid of this thing. It follows me around everywhere. It laughs every time I get confused. It laughs as I write this for… you? For… somebody. Anything that can understand it.

I don’t understand this place. I foolishly told myself that perhaps if I try to write down what I have seen here, I would understand it. It still has not worked.

I walked around this place. In every direction, the horizon is curved upwards. At first I thought I am inside of a sphere –but then why do I feel like I am falling after every step?

There is some sort of ruins everywhere. I don’t know what they’re ruins of. I thought perhaps old buildings that had perished at the hands of time, but they do not look like buildings.

I will describe the one I am sitting in right now. There are cylinders that look like columns, but they are horizontal, and suspended by wires. There is soil on what appears to be the corners of the ceiling that have remained. I tried looking for plants on the patches of soil—desperately looking for any sign of normalcy that I would understand—but I was greeted with nothing but that brown matter.

The carefully carved hole where the ceiling should be—perhaps they are not ruins—opens to the above.
I see nothing above. There is no sun or moon. I should be in complete darkness and yet—I see it all with a grey tinge.

It smells of… nothing. I smell of nothing.

The thing is laughing again.

I feel nothing. Nothing but utter confusion.

It is laughing louder.

I would be upset. But I feel apathy towards it. Towards all of this.

Perhaps this isn’t true. I feel… anxious. I wish I could tell you –tell me—why I am anxious. Understanding is a weird thing.

This is strange. It stopped laughing.

Is this some sort of hell?

It laughed again.

If this is hell, why do I not feel negatively towards it? I guess I could see myself living here. It’s been weeks, and I haven’t had any bodily urges. I don’t feel thirst or hunger.

I am immortal it seems.

It stopped laughing.

Ha! Immortal at last. What an awfully empty concept.

I think I understand the soil on the ceiling now. I think I understand the curvature of the horizon.

Or rather, I understand that they are understandable. I am immortal now, after all. I have all of eternity to try and—

I hear footsteps!

There is nobody around me. Just this laughing thing who has begun his guffaws all over again.

Perhaps they are my footsteps.

Yes, that’s exactly what they are. My footsteps and mine only. What a great view—sitting in these ruins and writing for my infinite audience.

Hear me tell you of this experience, people! I finally understand all of this.

Perhaps it truly is hell.

It stopped laug—