A warm, enveloping feeling. Red-orange glow underneath my eyes. A steady force, swooshing past me. Feeling air rushing past my skin, I opened my eyes to see a great umbral cloud parting before me to swallow me. The acrid air inside hit my face, forcing me to close my eyes until I flew out of it. At that moment, I fully realized I was falling. Heavy clouds rolled across a reddish sky above me. Below, a great continent of fields laid out in strange patterns, cut through by rivers that shimmered in one place, only to turn black or deep red in another. What seemed like settlements littered this landscape, but their layout, sometimes concentric, at other times clustered in heaps of structures, and sometimes utterly chaotic, made little sense to me. At any rate, I couldn't get a good look with all the wind in my squinting eyes. The ground was rapidly approaching, and the panic started setting in. I could guess what this place was, but what was on my mind the most was the upcoming collision. Dots became visible black trees, squares enclosures, thin lines roads, and eventually I could discern groups of creatures marching around. A hill of what seemed like rubble was directly below me, no more than a few hundred meters. At least, I thought, I wouldn't suffer for more than a split second. Eyes closed, I braced for the impact.
Landing in a pile of what I assumed was twisted rubble, I heard creaking and cracking, scraping and slamming. Without losing consciousness, I felt the impact force pushing hard objects through my skin while a dull whack in my head, worthy of a hundred concussions gave me instant nausea. Then, the feeling of falling stopped. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. The pain started just a few seconds after the shock waned, my groan transforming into a yell, and that into a shriek. My body was broken in so many places, pierced and shredded by debris. That pile that I fell down on, I realized, was bones—human bones, judging by the size. Above me I saw the opening of the impact crater I left. My lungs felt compressed, unable to fully breathe, and I spat out blood. Trying to move any part of my body just brought more pain. The misery was overwhelming, dulling my thoughts, eventually even the pain. Yet, after what felt like half an hour in this state, the paralysis began to subside. Realizing I could move a tiny bit again, I began to shuffle, then crawl, coughing and groaning, centimeter by centimeter, until I could finally prop my way up to the surface, climbing on sturdier rocks and bones.
Having pulled myself out and onto the rigid, undulating surface of the hill, I lied on my back, groaning and struggling for air. I was alive, conscious even. But then, obviously, I couldn't have been. It took me a while of looking up at the passing tumultuous sky to collect myself enough so that I could attempt getting back on my feet. My insides weren't bleeding any longer, and when I pulled the twisted metal and bones I landed on out of my torso, instead of bleeding, the scars seemed to cure in mere minutes. Soon enough, my aching body was good enough to rise and survey my immediate surroundings. The first thought was that I was in some form of an otherworldly countryside, nothing but serpentine roads of rough cobblestone passing through a valley, with what looked like charred trees and houses in the far, far distance. The road below the hill was climbing and falling with the terrain, and the hill itself was just a part of a larger formation. The second thought was that I was naked, and what remained of my living habits pushed me to find something to at least cover myself with, and protect the body from gusts of harsh wind. The piles of debris around me had nothing to offer, so I ventured down, carefully stepping on slippery rocks and creaking, trecherously pointy garbage. At the feet of the morbid hill, I noticed a scrap of fabric—some burlap sack or something of the sorts, lying in a ditch besides a shabby road. The moment I picked it up, a shadow hanged over me. Looking up, I saw a group of figures—dark grey in color, like coal mine workers covered in ash. They seemed to be passing by, in a convoy, or perhaps a procession, some wearing helmets, others nothing. Only one of them appeared to look down at me—a gaunt humanoid wrapped in black, worn-out robes. Its face, like the others' faces, seemed more like a mask, a sculpture made out of fleshy rock—dark grey pieces of flat basalt, with black, sunken eye sockets, nonexistent noses and mouths. My heart stopped for a moment, but the figure seemed to become disinterested with my presence, as it joined the silent march down the road. What could they be? I hid myself quickly, before any more of them took notice, and cautiously wrapped myself up in the sack, feeling the rough fabric irritate my skin. It took me what felt like a half an hour of waiting before I realized the procession wasn't just a few of them, but hundreds or more—and it showed no signs of ending. The terrain behind me looked insurmountable and the previous wanderer seemed peaceful enough, so, with careful steps, I approached the road again. To my surprise, when I stood close enough to be clearly visible, the pasers-by seemed to only take a cursory glance at me, then continued on. With no idea as to what to do now, and still in shock from what just happened to me, I gave up trying to find a reasonable solution, and simply marched alongside. It all felt like a bad dream, one I would soon awake from, so I didn't try to make meaning of it.
The procession traveled through this desert, with walls of mangled debris and bones like sides of a canyon surrounding us on both sides. The figures strolled forward, some dragging their distorted feet, others floating in mid-air. Accompanying them were giant creatures which resembled camels mixed with horses—their heads were somewhat skeletal, but their bodies were too wrapped up in torn, patchy fabric to see the rest of their anatomy. While I followed alongside this mute crowd, the sounds of thousands of footsteps and occasional howl of wind were lulling my senses with their monotony.
"Just to be sure," I asked the figure to my right, a helmet-wearing bundle of scraps with facial features similar to a weathered granite statue, "this is Hell, right?"
The figure looked at me in silence, slowing down its steps, as if caught off guard and having to think, then turned back to face the road, without uttering a word.
"I'm Matt. Do you have a name?"
It was worth a try. But just like they never seemed to mutter or sign a word between them, the voyagers around me were unwilling to communicate. The path lead us down a mountain, and eventually, we reached the footsteps, where it opened onto a wide field.
There I saw what seemed like a city in the distance—tall thin structures, and more massive ones in front, with smoke emanating from somewhere inside. Before I got there, I would have to cross a field of thorny plants, growing out of arid soil. Some of the members of the silent caravan split off, heading rightwards to what looked like another canyon. I remained with those headed for the hellish city, trying to keep a steady marching pace even though my feet ached from the rough stones.
Approaching, I could see the buildings, some of them resembling Roman ruins, others minimalist, like blocks of concrete. Parts of them were chipped off, others completely missing, so that here and there, a tilted column would menacingly lean to the side, threatening to crush pedestrians underneath it one day. Some of the windows had glass in them, but many, perhaps most, were shattered. The blackness inside was only occasionally interrupted by a flickering light. The entrance gates, once we've neared them, turned out to be triumphant arches in form, ones a military parade would walk under on a festive day if this was Earth. But their surface was covered with stone figures of crawling human bodies, all struggling to get to the top, with those at the very top reaching up for the red sky. Most of them had already been worn out by some erosion, so that their features couldn't be discerned. I felt goosebumps passing under the arch, realizing there were two giant statues at the sides of the interior, looming over me.
The convoy dispersed, quite literally, once we made it past the gate. Some of the horses and riders would vanish into thin air, others took turns into side alleys ahead of me—gone as soon as I checked. The figure walking by me didn't offer any farewells, merely picking a patchy, burnt backpack off a nearby camel creature, then walking in front of me through the door of a ruined tenement to my left.
I was left to wander the hellish city on my own, but I didn't feel any more lost than I was when I first arrived here, nor did I scream nor cry. First, I knew it was pointless, second, I didn't want to attract the attention of whatever might be awaiting those who end up in here, third, my brain—or whatever was doing my thinking—was still trying to piece everything together, still in denial. And fourth, there was already plenty of crying and screaming going on around me. As I wandered aimlessly, taking turns at what seemed to be the major streets, I saw creatures seemingly made out of multiple stitched bodies—two heads, four arms and legs—as well as those with squid-like shape, made by stretched out, veiny skin. Some crawled and walked on walls, others drifted through the air. On occasion, one sinewy, skeletal creature would be pressing another against the wall in what I presumed was copulation. There were humans here, too, some with bloody bandages around their torsos or faces, others lying beaten down, struggling for breath. Most seemed to skulk in the shadows of the buildings and entrances, and while some ran away from the creatures and other humans, others seemed to just give in and accept being taken. I remember walking down an alley between two rows of derelict high-rises, paved with dark crimson tiles. There, out in the open, humans would be having sex with each other, some of them clearly unwilling, others bleeding but in throes of passion. The creatures would have a way with each other, and violate the humans too. The cacophony of the stretching, beaten flesh, moans of passion, cries of terror and begging for more violated my ears just as much as the smell of dust, smoke and oil mixed with body odor attacked my nostrils. Trying to turn back revealed more of them, some spewing from the entrances of buildings, some jumping in pairs or alone out of windows and landing with a dull thud on the pavement, only to writhe and rise again to run. None of the participants in the neverending violent orgy acknowledged me, and I hurried down the street, hoping to keep it that way.
Eventually, a few turns later, I was out of the writhing mass—the street was calmer here, dominated by lethargic hum of withered figures, shifting and stumbling on their legs like drunks. Stepping past a brick wall overgrown with dark vine, I heard a different kind of low note—it hanged around in the air longer, and seemed to come from afar. Drawn to its sound, I walked onto a plaza littered with small bonfires. The hum quieted down, but just as I was about to turn back, I heard it clearly again—this time I knew it was an echo of distant horns. The remnants of their dissonant melodies made me remember. Following the call of the rumbling cry, I doubled the speed of my walk, heading down street after street, until faced with another large arch. I couldn't wait to pass underneath, alongside some ghastly thin humanoid figures in black silk robes, dragging chains along the ground, and be out of the damned city.
The gate turned out to open onto another stretch of red desert, with mountains like distant mirages. There in the distance, I saw a bunch of spires in the highlands. The dark clouds above me seemed to all flow and drain into a vortex above it, where beaming shafts of light pierced through them, spilling on the land below. Behind the spires and the mountains was a moon, just like one you'd see from Earth, but the shape of its crescent seemed more menacing. The horns in the distance blared once more, ensuring me: this was my direction.
