Hell is Real

This isn’t paranoia, not in the slightest. This isn’t even any kind of anxiety. Something is attempting to disturb my peace. Something or someone is trying to drive me insane, but I will not let it happen. I am a man of faith, and I have the utmost of faith in God and his plan for me. I am certain that in the worst-case scenario, God is testing me. It is a great honor to be worthy to be challenged by our Father who is in heaven.

Perhaps it’s not even a test, perhaps it’s a premonition waiting to happen. Maybe I’m just feeling a messenger of God walking beside me. Perhaps all of this is just an angel waiting for the right moment to reveal itself to me. I might be a prophet for all I know.

I’m not entirely sure I want to be a prophet, because it’s a hefty duty and a cruel fate in our times. People are borderline idolatrous and refuse to accept the love of our Lord upon themselves. People would ostracize me as a mad or dangerous man if I revealed myself as a prophet. No, that can’t be the case. Thinking about it, I might be a victim of a demon of Satan. An angel would not conceal itself in the darkness. An angel is a being of light. Whatever is present around me is definitely cold and is a being of empty blackness.

It all started a few months ago. I started having these strange dreams in which I am roaming a desolate city. A great fire engulfed the dream city and unimaginable screams and cries echoed all over me. I simply roamed this apocalyptic town aimlessly, lost and yet walking around with a purpose. Dreams are strange like that. There was one thing truly out of place in these dreams. I felt the presence of something following me at all times. Almost breathing into my neck, but I was too hesitant to turn around and look back. Something was preventing me from turning back. Something internal, a fear of sorts. Waking up after those dreams, Cold sweat covered my body mixed in with the feeling of tiredness.

At some point, sleep became scarce because of these dreams. My mind wouldn’t even let me sleep, dreading internally the dreams, the presence. I became irritable and irrational. Constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering if there was someone right behind me. My blood ran cold, my body turned dull and aching.

The presence followed me in my waking hours, too. I was constantly feeling someone was following my every step. Mimicking my movements to a tee.

The breaking point came when I felt an icy hand caress the top of my head. It was a soft, subtle touch that moved along my scalp. I froze. My body became stone for a split second before the sensation dissipated and I screamed, falling backward from my chair. My heart exploded, and pins and needles pricked my skin all over. I just laid there for what felt like a few moments that stretched into infinity before finally getting up to my feet. My stomach was twisting itself in knots. My whole body shook with fear. Frantically, I looked around the house, but I was all alone. The realization that my mind might have been playing tricks on me didn’t make me feel any better. My mind was eating itself, and my heart was shriveling in terror at what I was becoming.

After finally calming down, I slumped into my couch to burn a few brain cells watching TV, watching some late-night comedy. I caught something in the window. Someone was walking by my yard. Nothing unusual. Turning my head back to the Television, I barely caught the grayish flesh flying toward my window. Jerking my head towards the window again, I saw him standing there. A figure concealed by darkness, standing with his side facing the window. My heart rate rose. I slowly got up and walked towards the window. The figure’s head made a sharp turn to me.

I fell onto the floor. That face, it was the face of death. At that moment, I realized that hell is real. At that moment, I saw hell. I’ve seen it. My body froze in terror as that thing merely stared at me through the window. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t move. It was getting hard to breathe while that thing just stood there, its neck twisted awkwardly.

I prayed, I begged, I pleaded for God’s mercy.

I pleaded for salvation.

The demon stood there, its ghastly smile growing wider with each passing moment. Its face was sickly pale. An eyeless visage. Instead of the eyes, fires flickered in the empty bloodied sockets. An inhumanly enormous smile stretched from one ear to the other, filled with some decaying teeth while missing many others. The obvious lack of fluids stretched the skin awfully, and a cavity emanated smoke where the nose should’ve been. A few dirty strands of hair sat on top of the exposed scalp, swinging gently in the wind.

Hell is real, and this was its face.

I remained on the floor begging and pleading for mercy from the demon and God, but the beast just stood there. Unmoving, before pressing its bloody hand onto the window. Its arm bent grotesquely. Then it turned itself and disappeared into the darkness.

I couldn’t move from the floor for a while after the thing had disappeared. I fell asleep on the floor, suffering from terrible nightmares of a man being stabbed repeatedly. His dying screams echoed in my ears long after I had woken up.

The bloody handprint the demon smeared on my window was still there in the morning after. It wasn’t a dream, and ever since that day, I’ve been living in crippling terror. I can barely sleep because whenever I try to sleep, my mind looks for that demon again in the darkness, driving me anxious and keeping me awake. When my body finally shuts down, I suffer from terrible nightmares of demonic torture and rape of bloating and decaying corpses. I can barely eat because my body is so messed up. The constant stress had shattered my psyche. I keep feeling someone around me at all times. Standing over me, looming. I am constantly cold because I’m so on edge and my skin feels like pins and needles ceaselessly prick it.

I am losing my mind.

I am losing my will.

I am losing my faith.

Father, please help me.

Hosanna.

Deliver me.

Save me from this Satan that is trying to torment my soul and damn me to all hells.

The devil appeared in the mirror. It appeared in my mirror. I was looking at my reflection, my mind losing its touch with reality, consumed by exhaustion and fear. I was falling asleep on my feet. My reflection appears to be ghastly enough. I haven’t left the house in a few weeks. As a result, I have lost a lot of weight. I am looking like a walking dead man. The reflection started bubbling and twitching.

My heart seized up and my vision refocused itself. This spectral presence plucked me out from the pleasant tranquility between wakefulness and sleep. The reflection in the mirror started bleeding from all over its body, like someone had stabbed it in multiple places. The eyes burned out, and the teeth decayed and most of them fell out.

I wanted to turn away but couldn’t. Something was forcing me to gaze upon the devil as it took over my mirror. The room grew cold. My heartbeat pounded in my ears like a demon drum. I heard the beast cackle as its smile grew wider. Maggots fell out of its grotesque maw. I stood there, locking eyes with flaming sockets, my heart trying to escape out of my chest. Its bloody hands rose and pushed through the mirror as if it were nothing but a translucent fabric veil. They slowly inched towards me. A lump rose in my throat, slowly stifling me.

The ghastly hands made their way towards me until they finally grabbed the sides of my head. The cold sensation of dry dead skin touching my head made me scream, but that only made things worse. Before I could do anything, the demonic hands slammed my head into the mirror, hard.

A sharp pain shot through my skull, and a warm liquid flowed down my face. Everything started turning dull and dark until darkness engulfed me. When I came to, I saw myself standing over two people fighting. A hooded man straddled another man before stabbing him.

The knife tore through skin and muscle tissue with a sickening sound.

A primal cry escaped the victim’s mouth.

Then silence.

The violence didn’t stop.

The sickening sound of flesh being struck broke the silence.

My stomach twisted, and a burning rage filled up my insides. I wanted to do something but quickly realized I couldn’t. I ran towards the men, but as my hand reached out to the knife-wielding one, my hand passed straight through him. This was just a vision of sorts.

The stabbing didn’t stop.

He kept puncturing his long-dead victim’s body again and again.

Sixty-six times.

Then he finally dropped his knife and fell beside his victim. His clothes, face, and hands… All of it blood-soaked. He was drowning in blood. The scene made me sick. I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks. What a monster would do such a thing to a fellow man. I wanted to see his face - I needed to see his face. I had to know who this monster was.

When I finally saw it, the feeling of a knife piercing my heart echoed through my body. A cinderblock fell onto my chest. The sensation knocked the air out of me, and I couldn’t breathe. I stood there, dreading the face below me. My head spun and everything faded away again.

I woke up on the floor of my room, the mirror was cracked, my face bloodied and tears streaming down my eyes. It was hard to breathe. My body just refused to accept the oxygen. My head was spinning like crazy. Every fiber in my body screamed in agony.

The thing in the mirror was still there, still laughing, still mocking me. Flashing out its multiple stab wounds. Sixty-six in number. I stared at the mirror, looking directly at the thing, looking back at me. A ghost from a long-forgotten past, a ghost from a night buried deep underneath the consciousness.

It mouthed something at me, and I understood exactly what it said. Looking at my hands, I saw the red. I saw blood. It wasn’t my own.

No matter how many times I’ve washed my hands, I cannot get the blood off.

The devil is still here, still haunting me and preventing me from having peace of mind or rest with its cold dead touch, or its blood-curdling shrieks. It’s always here, it’s always haunting and tormenting me. My strength is waning. The beast keeps making its demand. I can bring myself to fight it any longer.

I can no longer resist its influence.

Father, please forgive me, for I have sinned.

I’ve killed a man, Father, I’ve killed a man.

In a fit of drunken rage, I’ve killed a man.

Stabbed him six six six… sixty-six times. Now his vengeful and restless spirit is torturing me and tearing my soul in odd directions.