Hell's Gallery

When I was in my 20's, I would hitchhike. It didn't matter where to or with who, just the sheer thrill of travel drove me to it; like an inner calling. But I got my life back together. I work at a 100k job and have a wonderful family. Now you might be thinking, why would he stop all of a sudden? 
 
Here's why.
 
I was in Dayton, a small town in Ohio that I had been drifting through. One particularly stormy night had me searching for a place to stay. I was walking along the road with rain pouring down on me. The last urban section had a variety of skanky motels, all of which were needless to say full. As I was walking, I saw what appeared to be a building.
 
It was completely rectangular. From what I could make out, it had one story and no exceptional features. The building was similar to a mom and pop shop. Thankful that I had finally found a haven from the torrential downpour, I jogged along the slippery gravel and approached the entrance. Not really seeing what was written on the outside because of the rain, I pushed opened the surprisingly thick wooden door.
 
It was pitch black. Whatever this place was, it didn't appear to have windows. I struck a spare road flare and walked through the building where I eventually found some candles.
 
After setting the candles up, I decided to take a look around to see if this place had anything useful. There were no electrical lights whatsoever, and the only room not connected by an open doorway contained only some paint cans and some white canvases. Realizing this was an art museum, I wanted to see if the pictures on the walls were worth anything.
 
The walls were adorned with picture after picture, leaving little open space. Something about the pictures seemed weird - ominously weird. They were all grotesque images: a woman's fetus being torn out of her by a chain embedded in its infantile eyes, a man who was being burned with eyedroppers full of acid, and many others. Others included infamous dictators throughout history. A clearly depicted Adolf Hitler was having his naked body being slowly roasted with acid-tipped pokers picking off at his melting skin. The realism of these pictures was disturbing, the tongues of yellow-red flame so vivid you could reach out and touch it. At this point I thought things couldn't get any worse. I was wrong.
 
Pentagrams and other satanic symbols started becoming more and more prevalent. Rocky, bleak depictions of hell stood out so surreal you feel like you could jump into them. Then the biggest and most gloomy picture came up.
 
It was Satan seated atop his throne. The throne itself was constructed out of bones and skeletons, mashed together in twisted and unnatural positions. Beside him you could see piles of gore, ranging from intestines to brains. Behind him was what appeared to be Jesus Christ having his limbs being stretched out on an inverted cross. Satan was red and muscular with a body of a man, and the hooves and face of a goat. His eyes were a pure black. When I looked into them an overwhelming sense of doom and depression came over me, making me want to cry. Deciding I had enough, I pulled out my sleeping bag in the other room and drifted off.
 
The next morning I woke up to a blinding light shining in my face. This is when I saw the truth.
 
There were no pictures. Every single last one was gone. In their places, only windows stood. Then I remembered back to the previous night. In every picture, there seemed to be two white lines intersecting each other at a perpendicular angle. After going to the supply room I had found out the building was formerly used by a plumbing company. There was never an art gallery there.
 
Running towards the door I stopped in the main room where my heart almost froze. Where the Satan picture had been before, there was now only a window. Shining down on the floor, however, was the same skull and skeleton throne in the picture. This time it was empty.
 
My life is completely normal now. No recollections of that night have come back. Except occasionally my son will complain about a pair of black eyes, staring at him from his window...
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