Dante's Inferno

PRIDE
I wake to the howls of tortured souls in a sulfurous inferno, the 3rd circle of Hell. The sand stretches to no end as far as the eye can see, never wavering in height nor depth. Legless spirits seek a common goal; a drop of water encased in gold. But at the touch of a finger of a hand or a tongue, the drop of water floods the plains and all spirits are swept back in a rush of steaming water to slowly boil in their own greed. Yet as soon as one attempts to drink the water, it rushes back to its encasement of gold, leaving the spirits to renew their cycle of unquenchable thirsts. Presently, an ancient man of pruned skin and blistered body crawls to where I stand. His eyes are bloodshot. He claimed to have been a good friend in times past yet I did not recognize the man. “I am Jesus. I was a liar and a hoax. I claimed to have been Gods son and because of it, I have been condemned to this hell for eternity. Im sorry! Oh lord I am sorry.” I reached out for him and as our fingers touched the boiling water swept him away into the desert. He howled and he squirmed and he yelled as his flesh turned raw and his blood outweighed the water. Jesus died twice that hour.
The sky was red with eternal fire, run on pain and remorse. No man escaped its heat. There was no shelter from it, no shade. I took a final look upon the tortured souls. Once prideful of their earnings and lifestyle now with nothing at all but for eternal suffering. They would be boiled, parched, disappointed, and reboiled for all of time. My mouth was absent of words. I squeezed out a shallow, “Good Luck,” before I fainted. Those words were lost among the roaring waters forever, somewhere still echoing in the endless expanses of the third Circle of Hell.