The Void and the Inferno

The Void and the Inferno

         The boy stumbled along the worn dirt path.  Trees surrounded him on all sides, huge oaks and pines for the most part.  The orange light of dusk cast shadows across the ground that seemed to glare at him.  Glare and laugh.  The path was small and so grown over with weeds and vines that he could barely find his way.  His foot got snagged on a root sticking out of the ground.  He fell on his face, and stayed there, prone on the hard earth.  He could not find the willpower to move.  He could not think of anything but it.
         Earlier that day he had set off, he did not know exactly why, but he did.  It was a bright morning so he went for a walk.  The forest covered hills were alive with birds and other small animals.  A beautiful display of the wonders of nature.  It was different now.  The trees seemed to leer over him, the twisted branches contorted in malice. 
         He was a mockery of the irony of fate.  Gods own misguided hand had pulled at the strings of the universe against him.  But he could not excuse himself.  His shoulders were weighed down with the burden of his deed and his heart was heavy with consciousness. 
         And it had been such a nice day.  Even the insects had not been a nuisance, but companions to the wonders of the forest.  This forest, the giver of life and death, so it would seem.  He painstakingly pulled himself off the ground and continued wandering towards the sun.  How could he describe the way he felt?  Numb, was that a sufficient word?  His entire soul was devoid of thought and feeling.  It was a complete absence of coherent thought.  Only one thing existed inside him.  What he had done. 
A shudder passed though him.  How, why him?  What had he ever done to the world, to god, to anything?  Even as he thought back on it he did not blame himself.  It was not, could not have been his will that commanded his body.  No, never, he was not the culprit here.  Rage burned inside him against some nameless magician, a curse of some dark voodoo, that’s what it had been.  But all the same…
         He had wandered though the hills till he had found a grassy meadow.  It was a nice place, good for a picnic.  A slight, warm breeze had blown though the long, green grass, the rustling sound soothing him.  At the other side had been a short cliff overlooking a wide part of the cool, clear stream that ran though the woods.  If only his eyes had never seen!  He cursed his body and his rage turned inward against himself.  He had dammed himself.  He could not blame anyone other than his horrible misguided since of judgment.  The water, it must have been so refreshing.  It had been a warm day, and they were in the middle of nowhere.  The trees don’t have eyes and the animals don’t speak.
         The sun had set, and wracked with guilt he wandered on.  Shuddering, he put his hands over his face.  He did not want to think about it.  But the empty void inside him had nothing else to offer.  He wandered on though the dark.  Where could he go?  He would not be welcome anywhere.  No, not now, hatred- he could feel the wrath pitted against him.  It was a tangible thing to him as real as the branches smashing and whipping into his body.  He did not feel the pain though, it was nothing compared to what was inside his soul.
         He had wandered down to the pool to get a closer look, he could not help himself.  He was one of the best hunters and stayed undetected.  But he had always been quiet.  No one noticed him anyway.  I anyone commented about him he was called outdated or strange.  He was invisible to everyone; she did not even know he was there.  That’s why the feeling had built up inside him.  He had never shown what he felt, but it had been there, building until he could not contain it.
He fell to his knees in a patch of moonlight.  He could not contain it any longer.  A soundless scream of agony ripped its way out of him and all his suppressed feelings came out of him.  This was hell; he knew it with out a doubt.  This is what hell felt like.  He could not describe this horrible thing inside him.  He begged for the empty void to come back, but it did not.  He was torn by an inferno of pure anguish and gut wrenching guilt.  He could not move, could not cry out, could not breath.  His hands folded over his stomach, he rocked up and down, unable to contain this thing inside him.  He could not escape it, could not escape what he had done.  He vomited all over the ground in front of him until he had nothing left in his stomach.  Then the continued to dry hurl until his whole frame ached with a sharp pain.  But he could not forget it, what he had done.  Some creature had been unlocked as he watched her. They had been miles away from anyone, and it had been simple really.  Steal her cloths so she had nothing to get into when she got out, and then…
He collapsed to the ground in a pile of his own vomit, tears streaming down his face.  He had never meant it to be like that, never.  God, what had he done?  He was a demon, a scourge on the earth.  He let out a scream of agony that he did not recognize.  Never before had he heard such a thing come from a human or animal.  Fatigued beyond his limit, his body went limp.  He could feel the warmth leaving him.  It was cold, so cold.  He let out a noiseless wheeze, a pathetic attempt to scream.  Then the void and the inferno rushed up to meet him.