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,
Slowly,
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,
Time,”
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,
Weeks,
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,
Otherwise,
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.
You
can connect with me in the following ways:
If
you like what you read, you can donate by using the button at the top of the
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email in the box in the upper right hand corner. Finally, feel free to share
this with the buttons at the top of the post as it would be appreciated.
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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