The Devil’s Playground

I approached the wrought iron gates to the cemetery.  They were ornate beyond necessity: filigreeing and pointing and posing in every which way.  But that didn’t distract from the truth.  Existing in the empty spaces between each constructed spindle, the cavity atop each pointed diamond shape, the voids swirling in and around each perfectly curled piece of metal were the gateways to hell.  The doorway for the demons and ghosts and curses that are the haunting of each and every one of us until our dying days.  Those spaces, each emptiness a playground for the devil himself.

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The Smoke

The plumes of smoke surrounded her, enveloping her in a shroud so dense it eclipsed the world beyond.  It clung to her, seeping through her clothes, her skin, her very bones.  It weighted her down, the ethereal mist an anchor dragging her deep into the earth.  First her feet falling through as if no ground existed beneath her.  Then her legs, up to her hips, her waist, past her shoulders until only her head remained.  She took one last gasp of smoke filled air, disappearing down as her now weighted body dragged her further towards hell.

Weather Beaten

He buttoned his coat against the bracing wind, forging onwards.  The wind kicked up fallen leaves that danced before him; taunting him, daring him to go on.  He ignored them as they pummelled into him, their fragile bodies disintegrating to dust.  Then came the rain, thrashing down hard onto every inch of him; his scalp soon beaten and bruised.  Each drop a bullet to the head, constant fire from the heavens.  Yet he was undeterred as he roamed, a deranged sneer he could not disguise across his weathered face.  The Heavens were no match for what Hell had in store.