December 31st, 1999, A.D.
My name is Malthus…not much to it but there it is.
I found so much lacking in every other name I chose. Plus
what is a name is this infernal world. People give things
names in order to control them. The only thing I seek to
control is my life, not my surroundings. The liberal dream
of reform is a lie, the far right of Christ's reformation
is also a lie to my squinted eyes. Hey, you might call me
an existentialist for lack of a better term. Useless terms.
Who needs classification? Who needs Heaven, and who needs
Hell? My Christian friends balk at my indifference while
even my more liberated partners gawk at the
self-responsibility I sometimes force upon myself. I just
try to live life to the fullest without self-destructing.
One can never be too careful, or too indulgent for that
matter. As I write this on my deathbed though, a bullet in
my head, I have to question. Does anything lay beyond? The
summer heat around me suggests oppression, fire licking up
from a hell below that will eventually overtake me. Heaven
for unbelievers is a sort of hell for me. Not to mention
the fact that can Hell be any worse than this life? I've
read The Myth of Sisyphus I too can find peace in unending
monotony and what else is this world.
I……
Bloodwatch 788.21.994K
What's this, I find papyrus to record in this twisted maze
of truth. Its been what might be considered four months
since my alleged death. Did I die? I really can't tell. I
can see, feel, touch, and think just as any human entity
can. But everything is so different here, yet so the same.
I am on a massive ocean of dunes, silver and sulfur
mountains of darkness burning by an abysmal sun flaring
above. I can see no other living thing around me. No
plants, animals, nothing, but this void of sand calls me. I
can hear the screeching truths of the world eating at my
soul here. The only demons are my own. I saw a figure, or
at least my memory says I did, before I was cast out here.
Nothing so traditional hindered its views, as my
philosophy, which I still embrace in this purgatory. It
simply said that perhaps I can learn in eternity what I
could not in real life. How droll I thought, Here is this
flaming being yelling at me about the afterlife, if that is
indeed what this whole thing is. I thought I was just in a
coma or something and that this desert was certainly a
personification of my throats parched condition as I lay
there in my hospital bed. I could lay forever in this lies
to defy what I think really happened to me. I mean after
all I do not particularly care for Hell, even if I did
believe in it, which I do not. I walk this desert, alone,
hot, thirsty, tired. I feel that I will walk it
forever.
First Ebb 900.49.1200K
Well it seems like and eternity since I entered this
place. I am no longer in the desert of my naiveté
but now floating on my back in a sea of saltine solution.
My body is a festering replica of it former self and the
lancing pain of this sea is excruciatingly blinding to my
physical and emotional well being. I have decided I am not
in a coma after all, the pain is too real. I can not think.
I can not breath. I can not sink, the water is too buoyant.
I lay in stupor flowing along the currents of this
gargantuan sea. Crystal blue is all I see from horizon to
horizon. I can not even distinguish where the ocean begins
and the sky ends, or where the sky begins and the ocean
ends. I am locked in reciprocity, inverted torment to the
three dimensions of my prison. Below me is blue void, above
me is blue void, a crimson stream lays fingers around me. I
considered the imagination of the person who devised this
place. It was like it knew what I needed for Sisyphus's
repast. I was denied any thought except my agony, an agony
not only derived from the physical pain, but also from the
realization of the futility of my former life's path. I was
not expecting this on my deathbed. I needed something
concrete to focus on. I needed flame, demons, the devil
himself. I needed tormentors, infliction of pain and
suffering, something I could focus my rebellion on. How
could I blame the neutrality of nature. And that had been
the extent of my suffering so far. All born of the world
but not the world of man, the only world I hated. I could
float forever.
Arial 45.900.1400K
Now I am falling. I never remember the beginning of the
ending of my plummet, if such a thing even exists. The best
way I can describe this is the vertigo, falling-asleep
dreams of a child. That sick sensation of going down, down,
down and then being dragged up with a sickening wrench by
the bunjee cord of waking up, stomach clenched in cold fear
and cold sweat sliding down your back. The air whistles
through the salt infested cuts of my skin. Gaping wounds no
longer bleeding, I can feel the rush of wind on my bones. I
am slowly wasting away. A quarter of myself leaves me every
million feet I fall. Unendingly. It was sort of
exhilarating the first million miles, but now I can not
even sense movement. I can only measure time by the suns
revolution around me, like some warped magnet, following me
like a psychopathic groupie. But I even lie there (I can
safely lie here) I lost track of time long ago, probably
during that first ordeal in that desert. Time was so
completely relevant in my other life (that's how I think
about it now, not my former life) I had to let it go here.
I lived day to day on Earth making the most of it. That is
denied me here. I float upon timelessness and its grand
design to victims like me. I am non-linear now, outside my
wonderful continuum. I ignore the present and now embrace
the past. I still have my memories, though I can not dwell
on them. The vise of my morals and ethics is still there.
It weighs me down and speeds my descent. I could fall
forever.
Thermostat Flux 777.32.2145K
Ahhhhhhhh this was traditional finally!!!! At least some
philosophers had gotten something right. I am now tied to a
stake and very slowly, very surely, burning alive. Not
quite the fire and brimstone thing, but close enough to
satisfy the little intellectual curiosity I had left about
this extremely annoying place I had learn to call Hell. I
could see nothing else in the black void around me but my
final release from this flesh that had been plaguing me for
centuries, if I did not have nerves I could not feel pain
right? It was a virtual processing plant for the mortality
of life. Cracking and bubbling overtook ears that could no
longer see my plight. Yellow glazed eyeballs ignited to
become tawdry snack for my thoughts. My mind basted nicely
like a plump sow on a roasting spit. I stopped feeling when
my bones fell to dust around me like I had a lived a paper
machete life back on good old earth. A testament to the
futility of it all, which I had already realized and the
great absurdity of it all, also already realized. But blast
it I could not ponder these concepts long because
BOOM…there goes the last materialism I'll ever know.
Was I Malthus? Now I am Soul. I see and hear. I do not
touch, taste, or feel. But then the void opened up around
me and I knew fear and forlorn me to a devastating effect.
I saw heaven. Just out of sight. Just beyond me. I saw
peace. I saw purpose and the cosmos in that to sate my
eyes, eyes that were nothing but ash. A sea of emptiness
was a thousand mile barrier between that and me. I wish I
could burn forever..