#asyall

[jue-we]

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[sulfurousdreamscapes]

Even the shadows whisper in these blackened halls, through which the frightened monk runs, bare feet slapping against dark, smooth stone. His gaze travels in every direction, even if his eyes can barely perceive the walls.

If a light could be lit here, he thinks. And the shadows giggle across the walls, running and scampering to share the news of this thoughts.

"If a light could be lit here!" they tell each other excitedly.

"The fire would consume him for a long, long time," an answer arrives. The giggling ripples across the hall, louder than the monk's footsteps.

When he finds a break in the wall, he slips into it, almost as if he were pulled by some unseen hand. It's the light, he realises. There is light in this room, somewhere at the end. Candles blazing white—or have colours disappeared in this place?

"Careless," someone says from inside the room.

The sound of a human voice is almost deafening to the monk's ears. He recoils, struggles to find a wall to hold to, and still collapses to his knees.

"Forgive me," he says, still struggling to have his eyes adjust. "I was careless. Very careless."

The woman in the room, who sits at the end of a long table, turns her head towards the weary and breathless monk. Her eyes are black as obsidian, and her skin pale as a mash of stars. The crown she wears bears spikes longer than lances, radiating from her head like a cruel sun.

"I know this is Hell," the monk says, joining his hands and struggling towards the woman on his knees. "But there has been a mistake. A big mistake. I dedicated my life to the thought. To the word, the single meditation, the single truth. I swear it, I can recite it now."

The woman holds up an open palm facing the monk. There are no lines on her hand. It is as smooth and pristine as porcelain.

The monk nods, hands clasped. He looks away.

"Sit and dine with me," the woman says, and her dark eyes glimmer in the candlelight as she stares down the confused monk.

Pulling a chair back, the monk sits down. He cannot stop his legs from moving, and he places his hand over them, then back on the table, then on his chin, then back on the table.

"You must think I'm some great officer of Hell," the woman says. The monk notices that her black lips have a single strip of white in the middle. "But I'm not. I cannot control Hell. I do not wish to."

The monk's eyebrows quiver. He can barely stand to look at the meal before the woman. It's grotesque smell makes him nauseated.

"You see," the woman goes on, "I am, in fact, the wife of Hell. The afterlife is my spouse. Do you see now, where you find yourself?"

The monk gets up immediately, his chair clattering onto the stone floor behind him. He is about to make a run for the door, back to the hallway he came from, when he sees a bright white light in the hallway.

A torch. Several torches.

"It doesn't seem like your meditations saved you, Asyal," the woman says. "They did not save me, either."

[commentsense888]

It's the future by oragamihawk https://www.reddit.com/r/ProgrammerHumor/comments/asyale/its_the_future/?utm_source=ifttt

[efdort]

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[maghaberleri]

Yıldız Asyalı’nın İğne İpliğe Dönmüş Son Görüntüsü Şaşırttı!

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from WordPress https://www.magazinhaberleri.com/yildiz-asyalinin-igne-iplige-donmus-son-goruntusu-sasirtti/ http://ifttt.com/images/no_image_card.png

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