Wednesday, April 10, 2013

The Chains of Hell

In The Demon’s Head #97: The Chains Of Hell

April 10, 2013

What’s going on everyone? It’s Wednesday which means its HUMP DAY! We’re only two more days from the weekend. Wednesday also means that it’s time for another piece from the damaged mind of yours truly in another photo-blogging piece. Before we get to the picture though I’d like to let you know something.

This blog has changed drastically over the last few weeks. However, that doesn’t mean that some of the old stuff won’t resurface. I’m going to explain a lot more when I write my 100th post next week. I’m very excited about that post for more reasons than one. But enough with that let’s get onto the new picture:

The Chains Of Hell

This deep dark hole that I’m in,
Seems to have no way out,
I don’t know how to climb to the surface,
The damaged part of my head,
Tells me to stay,
But the rest of begs to go,
Even if I wanted to the chain,
The chain would hold me in place,
I’m trying to remember how I got here,
But it all seems kind of fuzzy,
I used to be a businessman,
Working 9-5 every Monday-Friday
I would go through the parking garage,
On my way to,
And from work,
It was on one of those days,
That I was hit in the back of the head,
I blacked out,
When I woke up I was riding in the back of a van,
My vision was hazy,
And I didn’t understand those that were talking,
I drifted back off,
When I was finally brought to,
I felt the chain attached to my leg,
The hole was dark,
And quiet,
There was a plate of food,
And some water,
I drank and ate,
I didn’t think about what could have been in it,
I was just grateful to have it,
So much time seemed to have passed since that day,
But so little of it I could remember,
Maybe it was because,
Every day was exactly the same,
Maybe it was something else,
I could never be sure,
The days and nights mixed,
And finally,
I stopped trying to keep track,
My mind drifted back,
I had met very few people,
The conversation that floated in,
Was of the very first meeting I had,
With a man who called himself “Terry”
No one understood why I was there,
Least of all Me,
Then one day I met Terry,
He was the apparent leader behind the entire thing,
One day while he was down in this place,
With us,
I asked him,
Why I was there,
His laughter still echoes,
To this day,
“You were just,
In the wrong place at the wrong,
He said.
“Our victims,
Choose themselves,
By circumstance,
And accident,
You just happened to fall to one of those.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
The sound of my voice was weaker then ever,
“All in due time.” They said
That run in was days,
Maybe Months ago,
I can’t ever be sure,
As I sit here I can only hope,
That the footsteps coming,
Are coming to help me,
End this life,
I may attempt,
To take the chain,
And end it all,
On my own,
Even if it lands me in hell

About The Piece

This piece was strange to write. I enjoyed the character that developed while writing it and how he slowly but surely loses hope. It’s one of the things that I enjoy about writing most, the ability to watch characters change. I’d love to know what you thought of this piece so please feel free to share in the comments section.

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Until the next time you want to take a trip through the gates of hell and into the demon’s head, I’m Kyle Robinson wishing you a safe trip back to the surface.   

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