GREENER GRASS

By John Mabry, 10th Grade

That's the greatest torture souls feel in hell:
In hell, that they must live and cannot die.
--John Webster, "Duchess of Malfi," IV, 1.

Taking head in hands, I furiously beat it against the opposite wall. Blood rushed into my brain. My world throbbed, turned scarlet and died, only to be resurrected in its unconcious state, where the horrors are greater still.

It was not with joy that I came out of the twisted dreams, for through their terrors are frightening enough, little do they do to the physical body. I lay long before I onened my eyes, the skin which had d 4 sintegrated the day before had been renlaced, and the eating effects of the acid which filled our chamber once again began its cycle.

Do not, I pray, press me for the details of my entrance to the chamber, for as I cannot recall getting there, I recall all to well why. As one who was (and is) a fellow prisoner, had once
put it: "I had gone through all the life before, and never opened up the Door."

My heart could not see any lower into my breast as it had become within the last few days. In a short time after my arrival, the clothes that I had worn were slowly eaten away. Bit by bit they decomposed, until, barefoot and naked, I stood, in the same physical and spiritual state as literally hundreds of others around me. It was then that I gegan to understand my sentance.

My eyes opened slowly, and, rising from the floor, I heard the repulsive sound of my own flesh ripping. I screamed, and, in doing so, forced the others to wake to share in the torments. Skin, hand muscles, elbows, buttocks, and faces remained upon the floor, as their bodies reluctantly tore loose irom them. Bodies rose, blood roured, and gore became the only real substitute for beauty. Some of the haunted forms remained unon the floor, not caring to feel the initial pain, not just yet.

Then, as it had always done, and will always do for eternity, a steaming liquid began to pour in from the walls. Its level rose slowly, yet, it rose. It had not taken me long upon my arrival, several days ago, to determine its substance: acid. A great, strong, flesh-devouring formula which was the chief source of our torments. But, (sigh), it eventually would seep back into the walls, and the torments of dreams begin.

With each step, flesh tore from the soles of my feet, and remaind, like red pastries upon a sandy baker's pan upon the cement floor. Wincing with every step, the pain increased. The acid had made its way to my ankles and blood began to run freely.

I was not, however, alone; those upon the floor, their spinal coulumns were already nearly covered, by now desintegrated completly. They could not rise, but would have to inhale the infernal liquid, gasping for death, and only receiving a life that they did not wish for. The hours dragged as I watched the expiration of my own limbs. I saw again the helplessness of my own situation, the frustration of those around me.

Frustration,
Expiration,
"Damnation!" I screamed, "Is it not enough to die a merciless death once? Must we die it every day?"

Tears flowed from my eyes. Raising my bloodied stump of an arm to wipe then, the acid at them.

Immeadiatly. Blinded until morning.
Blinded until morning.
Blinded.
Morning.
Mourning.

The waters began to recede; the red sea pared. Dead Egyptians on dry land. The phantams poured in and began their tauntings. I fell asleep, submitting to my tormentors.

I woke. Many others had already risin. I had only opened my eyes when I realized my plight. I had, during the course of the night, moved onto my belly. I had slept face down. I cursed, and in anger spat upon the cement floor. It offered no satisfaction.

Please do not think that what I have just set down is the extent of my tortures. Nay, to be sure, it is the very least of them: My greatest torment was THE DOOR. The chamber consisted of five solid slabs of cement, and a metal door set firmly in the sixth. The door shown brightly, aa every day it was cleaned by the acid. The glow ate at my heart as badly as that infernal liquid ate at my hands. Ever since my arrival, the door had been there, beckoning.

I lay motionless, face down on the floor, until I heard the vaults being opened, I then tore myself free from the cement. Jumping up, I surveyed myself: my shoulder was the worst, nearly threee muscles lay on the floor. My face had only the first few layers of skin taken off. Otherwise, I bled little, and felt better that I had the day before, if it is possible in this place to be any better than anything. I soon found that it is not; the door. It pleaded. It cried out to me with every agapation possible of solid metal. I started to speak, but it bade me nearer. Tottering, for I knew that I could not hold against it, even as I tried. As I reflect upon it, I hadn't actually been beckoned by it, but there was something which my mind refused to struggle against. Submit, Admit, "Do it!" The voice cried.

My hand trembled as it reached for the latch. My face contorted with fear, for I knew the warnings of my fellow prisoners. I swung the latch aside. The chamber resounded in its creak. Voices ceased, horrored eyes beheld the very source of their terror. The unlatched door. In torrents, they raced for the door, nearly trampling me beaneath their tearing feet. Aching hands reached for the door, and pushed it as far to as it was possible. Then, as a storm growing from the distance, a slight pressure on the opposite side of the door became felt. But, it grew. It pressed upon the weary band until it overcame. Cries of anguish and bitter tears, not as such that were heard since the Great And Terrible Day, filled the air, which, pouring down upon them, was as hot as any ever before felt, It burned and charred. The stench of baking flesh filled my. nostrils. I gagged, and vomited, but nothing was produced.

Just then, something which was yet even more repulsive that any event yet catalogued, happened. Through the open door came the rodents. Large as dogs, teeth as razors, they entered and tore, legs and arms were thrown about. Decapitated heads screamed curses which filled my haart with self-pity, they cried out, awaiting the dreams that would rejoin them together, only again to be torn away.

I was shoved in the human torrent out the door, the heat reached into me, and I beat my fists against a passing rat, who took them both in his own mouth. I longed for the lesser torments of the chamber, but now have only to fear my present ones. Much closer to the Core, the heat increasd far into the day. Even in this the dreams may be a realease, but then I shuddered. The dreams, too, would increase in intensity. Just then, I saw what would be the greatest of my new torments:

Far to the bottom of the cavern, easily acceptable to any soul in want of relief, was, I scarsely can hold the greusome thought in mind. It could only lead further into the Core.

At some time, I dread to expound, in the endless eons of our eternity, this door, yes, another door, would beckon to someone else. I can only shudder, fear, and exist.

'Tis only for the Hound of Heaven to decide,
If the grass is greener on the other side.
This, my wandering soul, Alas,
Is always in search of Greener Grass.