by Krishna Rose
Sighs came from inside the forests of green, like murmurings of curiosity, and every now and again I would catch a glimpse of a dress from behind one of the trees—followed by a giggle. A mist rested softly, draping like cloth over an ancient ruin ahead, revealing to me a large stone circle in an opening by the river bank. It spoke to my spirit, so I drifted dreamily towards it, sensing that this was where I was meant to be.
I was aware of those who watched me, yet when I turned to look at them, they hid, nifty, quick as the wind. Soon their giggles turned to laughter, causing me to feel merry. I sat down in the center of the stones and closed my eyes, feeling sweet sensations all around me. Forthwith, the sources of laughter came close . . . I could feel them. Their liveliness of spirit charmed me.
“My dove, prepare your heart for a plentitude of wisdom which shall produce in you fruits worthy of our Creator’s table, wherein His most holy name shall be magnified. Mary, daughter of Eve, Mistress of liberality, a great preparation is readied for thy elevation and perfection. Great gifts have laid themselves before thee, therefore regard them fearlessly, that thou shalt soon enjoy the sweet fruits of thy labor and grace, that the Almighty Lord hath bestowed upon thee.”
Then everything stopped. The music faded. The effervescent, vivacious energies stilled, and suddenly I felt especially vulnerable—like an innocent flower about to be picked. Never had I felt such defenseless delicacy. I was possessed with a great yearning to see the Lord. It was as if the House of God were upon me, for I sensed Him near.
He came beside me like a whisper, to lay a crown of flowers and feathers upon my head—the forest girls clapped wildly in excitement. A thrilling fusion of drums, strings and song commenced. It took bravery for me to open my eyes, for a holy fear had overcome me. I wished more than anything, to join in with the rapture of rejoicing which whirled in flashes of light—yet I found myself too shy to move even an inch.
Looking down at my body, I saw that I wore a garment of the softest fabric, softer than silk, yet so much like it. Its color I cannot describe, for it was not of our world. Soft flowering vines caressed and spiraled over me, decorating my feet and hands with their hued sap, adorning me with delicate designs.
The Lord was everywhere. He danced between the youthful ones who had been hidden from me just moments before. Nimbly, they moved in perfect coordination, in and out between the stones at considerable speed. The ancient stones, too, pivoted around and around, shedding light on my consecrated vision. He danced amidst the others, so blisteringly fast, that I could barely catch glimpse of Him.
The music felt like the ocean, the wind, the trees, like flowers, and like . . . everything in creation! I was giddy inside, in a good way, as if all the elements were a current of ecstasy restoring health and promises of fulfillment. Frozen to the spot. Stunned. I was suspended by the grace of eternal life. There was so much emotion inside of me wanting . . . demanding expression.
The girls fluttered between Him in perfect symmetry, yet not so long as I could catch sight of Him. But I knew it was He whom I had always loved—not my husband, but the Lord who I had known forever, yet not known.
When one particularly beautiful girl entered the circle, everything stopped. The Lord dropped the instrument He had so delightfully been playing. The drums ceased their drumming. The bells gave up their ringing. The girls fell silent—openmouthed they seemed wonderstruck. She walked towards Him slowly. A vision of loveliness. A very sheer veil covering Her face. Her beauty pervaded the circle. Shivering, I watched, as all of creation hushed in rapt attention as She came before Him. Then the vision narrowed and came to a halt.
I found myself weeping, not out of sadness but out of great joy. As if I had been bestowed with the essence of all ardent love. With profound humility, I cried hot tears of spiritual longing. No longer was my soul lonely, for I had seen Him, and He was perfect.
“Permit my yearning heart to stay. Why do you cast me from Your sight?” I prayed, my body shaking in beatitude. I cannot describe to you in words that which I had been privy to. It was as if millions of flowers had blossomed all at once inside the inner chamber of my heart. I was bursting, due to the sacramental treasures of what I had seen.
Redeemed, I was abruptly delivered unto the Hall of Judgement to face the final Door in the South. Death no longer seemed to have hold over me, for I knew now that I had touched eternity and would forever search it out and not stop until it was no longer a distant memory—but a constant stream of predestined, delightful experience.
Entering the Door in the South, I felt a newfound enthusiasm, and upon crossing the threshold, I was met by the High-Priest who came forward to greet me. He seemed somehow to understand what I had received in my moment of salvation but a moment before, for I perceived in him, a pride, like that of a father.
“Mary, it’s good to see you again. This is the Door in the South from where none return. Now you are to face the finality of sin. I wish to warn you, the things you see here may frighten you, but know this . . . the souls here are of the most evil kind. They have committed sins, which justifiably are being repaid in this loathsome territory. Come, we have much to see,” he said marching in the direction of an extensive body of water.
Henceforth, I would store my perfected vision within the tablets of my soul, as a mystery to be later rediscovered and explored. Regaining my composure, I wiped away the tears from my eyes as a barge drew near. Inside, was a man of senior years, with a thick head of white hair and a long black beard, which, like light and dark, played tricks on my eyes. He called us hither and we climbed aboard.
The waters had an unnatural stench to it, so I covered my nose and mouth with my shawl, pulling my hood low, instinctively guarding myself from this disclosure. It was a profound shock to my system, the dichotomy between this world and the one I had tasted but a moment before. The High-Priest had in his hand a danda stick, upon which a hefty crystal had been mounted that lit up so that the darkness dispersed in its presence.
“Woe unto you, you depraved souls!” the old man shouted, searching the waters keenly with his eyes. The High-Priest was quick to point his staff over the water, revealing the immense throng of entangled souls swimming in the murky swamp toward us. Their mangled hands reached for the boat so as to tip it over, but fearing the light, they cowered back into the shadows.
“We are taking you into the eternal darkness of fire and ice,” the High-Priest told me, with a cool undertone. Despite the gloominess, he glowed with tender good nature. I trusted him fully. He smiled reassuringly, a recognition in his eyes.
“This is a place of great darkness m’ Lady,” the old man said with a worried glance in my direction. “No one assays to roam these lands by choice, if ye don’t mind me sayin’. When you’re all done ere’, I’ll carry thee swift as a bird from this godforsaken place, nary to return, I pray thee gentle Lady,” he said in a kindly manner, bowing his head over and over again in my direction.
I nodded, settling down in the center of the vessel, as the old man rowed with a youthful vigor, his eyes like wheels of flame, his face livid. He cursed under his breath, rowing hard and fast, while the creatures thrashed about in the water screaming pleadingly, desperately pursuing our boat.
No birds chirped here in this godforsaken place. Their songs are something we are so thoroughly accustomed to hearing, that without them, it was disturbingly quiet. I sorely missed their sweet cheery melodies now, for so bleak did everything seem without them.
“A good soul never passes this way,” the old man said, nodding in our direction. “What brings you ‘ere to these shores then, Mistress?”
“We’ve come to understand the plight of human struggle,” the High-Priest answered authoritatively.
“Hmm,” the old man muttered under his breath. “Foolish if ye ask m
e . . . bringin’ a Lady this way” he said standoffishly.
The old man looked as if he were seized with dread as the boat hit shore. Immediately, sighs and lamentations filled my ears. It was a merciless sorrow. So dark was the heavy grip of this barren vista, that disquieted, I tremored, shaking like a leaf.
“Who are these sad souls that reside here?” I asked him.
“These ‘re the souls of them who‘ve sinned. Havin’ no faith in the Lord, they ‘ad no compass by which to navigate, so they came ‘ere. They’re lost souls m’ Lady,” he explained solemnly, looking around with a terrified expression on his worn face. Helping us ashore hastily, he seemed to be hoping for a quick escape.
“What comes of them?” I asked, genuinely concerned by the sadness of their situation.
“You’ll see m’ Lady,” he said flatly.
Once we were safely ashore, the old man scurried away. The High-Priest and I walked side by side over the bleak landscape, towards an imposing castle with towering ramparts. The living dead, crept towards us, crawling on all fours, overladen with a beastly, untamed demeanor. Hastening our step, we headed for the castle, which, having a fiery moat around its perimeter, seemed impregnable. Its solid iron drawbridge lowered as we approached. Thankfully we were shielded from the heat as we crossed the footbridge, untouched by the molten flames below.
Spears as long as ten horses, yet thin as paper, protected the castle walls so that no creature would dare attempt climb them. Strange leathery black swans sailed distrustfully upon the scalding lava, seemingly unaffected by the sea of flames—guarding great secrets I presumed.
A warden bowed, leading us through the first of nine gatehouses, until we reached the fortified city within the castle’s defensive walls. Thereupon, we were shown to our seats inside a court of law. Blistering tar and boiling water secured the court’s boundary on all sides, framing the nine gatehouses—deterrents to any who might attempt an escape.
Court was in session. Each convict came forward to be counted by the Judge, who was seated on a high chair at one end of the courtyard, deciding the fate of those who had come here to receive judgement. The court ministers busied themselves, taking and sharing notes, as each prisoner was brought before them in chains to hear sentencing. Without exception the offenders came and went, one by one, to hear the implication of their misdeeds. The waiting criminals, suspended on pulleys high on the sky-scraping walls, were fearfully concerned, and rightfully so, witnessing as their fellows were sentenced, afterwards to be hurled downward to receive punishment for their crimes.
The convicts were systematically brought out of the oubliette dungeons below, which were very narrow and confined, offering no chance of escape. The claustrophobia alone made them stark raving mad. Forgotten by the outside world, they were held inside dark, confined dungeons, with only a single hatch at the top, accessible only by one rope. These were the souls of those who had died believing they had gotten away with their acts of violence.
The cries of those here condemned were not of repentance, but of anger. Each of them crying blame upon others, in last-ditch attempts to redeem themselves. But the courts had all the evidences laid out before them on a large screen, where the court watched their crimes as if they were happening in this moment. There was no denying their guilt. The evidence was here. Still, the guilty, foolishly claimed innocence, as if they had been wrongly accused. Despite the horror of their crimes, there was no repentance in them and they howled like dogs as they were flung downwards into the abyss.
“Is there a time when they will be forgiven?” I whispered, leaning into the High-Priest’s ear.
“Yes. In time, an understanding and repentance of what they have done comes to them. But only after much suffering does shame sprout within their conscience to pardon them. Whenever you hear an angel’s trumpet resound, a soul is released from their debt, to be returned to another life on earth. Fearing Hell, many at that time turn to the Lord with fervent enthusiasm,” he said leaning in close, so as not to disturb the proceedings. “The Lord’s justice system is a perfect thing Mary, for by it, even the most evil are transformed.”
The castle keep loomed in the distance. It was a fortified tower where the lords and ladies of the court lived. The High-Priest bid me to follow him towards the watchtower on the Northern border, at the left side of the keep. As we crossed the fiery waters over a drawbridge, one of the dead came up from the murky depths. “Who are you that you visit this place and have the right to leave?” he snarled—his body half wasted away. Jumping back, I flinched as the portcullis instantly fell like swords from the sky to separate us from the creature.
“Get behind me!” the High-Priest howled, holding his arms out protectively. “We came here to know the fate of the wretched, that we might turn them from sin while there is still yet time,” the High-Priest told the creature once we were safely on the other side.
“Please . . . take me with you!” the anguished being wailed, clutching at the iron grille, pressing his ghoulish face against it, reaching for us with his bloodstained arm.
“Your place is here, Brother,” the High-Priest bid mournfully. “But once your debt has been repaid, I give you my word, I shall personally come and offer you a chance of life without sin. I’m sorry for your suffering Brother, but I cannot help you.”
“Yes, yes, we will see . . .” the pitiful soul said casually, doubtful of his chances, disappearing from sight.
Upon reaching the summit of the watchtower, perching over its embrasures, we were able to view the landscape on all sides. Inside the fortress walls, more than a thousand black winged creatures sat about relaxing behind the barricades—eating, drinking and laughing as if nothing untoward were going on.
“Why are they feasting happily in a place such as this?” I asked.
“These are the dark lord’s angels, Mary. They defend the keep and administer punishment. The dark lord and his ministers, along with their wives, live within these walls, separate from the extreme heat and suffering. Living long lives, they enjoy luxury and pleasure, knowing that though souls in their realm are suffering, each of them had inflicted pain upon someone on earth. Understanding this, affords them peace to go about their business. In fact, insight into divine justice, allows all the residents of Hell to execute their assignments without emotion. They weigh the debt due, by their ability to disassociate from the otherwise high tension this place generates.”
I grew pale as the truth of his words fell like a shadow over my aching heart. It was as if the spell of a thousand years, in one instant, melted by way of this irksome wisdom. With unflinching loyalty to the penalty these prisoners had brought about by their own miserable decisions, these agents of Hell serve the Lord as administrators of punishment unto the fallen. With pity, I understood their good works. “May the Lord bless them for their sacrifices,” I whispered.
“The basilisks belong to the King of this region,” he explained, pointing to the enormous creatures that slithered here and there in the shadows. “They are fiercely loyal to their master,” he added.
Upon each serpent’s brow was set a large stone which lighted the path as they moved about. This was in fact the only light to be found in the otherwise foggy darkness. Everything else was hidden in the shadows, difficult to see—by design.
“The serpents can come and go freely, anywhere within the hellish regions to keep order. They feel nothing upon witnessing the torments of the enslaved. Some even derive pleasure upon seeing the evil-minded suffer,” he said, from behind watery eyes. “Those who lived the life of beasts—beasts they have become,” he added.
The condemned had been bound with ropes of snake, which girdled their chest and loins, coiling around their bodies from head to tail, suffocating them. These reptiles sucked at their flesh in a frenzied thi
rst for the core of the human guilt. The stench of death was overbearing.
We watched spellbound as one prisoner dared to run, hoping to escape the serpents chastening. The creature, not missing a beat, shot up, grabbing the runaway in its fangs, right where the neck was connected to his shoulders, and a fearful moaning came from all directions.
Looking out over the wide expanse of inky vaporous pits, filled with water, the whirling depths held in its grasping chasm, millions of captives. The ground trembled, as the stormy ebb and flow of swelling rivers of blood, dashed their emaciated broken bodies against the protective iron walls of the castle. In its current, the washed up carcasses of monstrous sinners, hissed and heaved in the violent unrestrained fury of the black waters swirling below.
A peal of thunder grumbled overhead and flashes of lightning struck, sending thousands of frenzied convulsing wretches into the gaping mouth of another widening whirlpool—where they disappeared from sight. It is impossible to describe their struggle to unravel themselves from the certain violence they faced, as they fruitlessly roared in hopeless, yet great attempts, to free themselves.
“Many who you see here, are the souls of false teachers, leaders and government officials who misled the innocent and caused many crimes against humanity,” the High-Priest shouted above a strong gale. “So do not think to pity them,” he added.
This place, and the people in it, made my skin crawl. It was a well-organized carnage. Oh, what a cloak of everlasting fatigue I felt! I prayed that the pain of what was here, would be the compass by which I would guide the path of many towards the light of goodness—for this interminable outcome is not for those who do not wish to suffer.
“Come” the High-Priest petitioned.
Following him down the interminably dark staircase, he led me beneath an arched entrance, into a beautifully laid-out walled garden, where the residents of Hell strolled happily, draped in wealth. The contrast between the inside and outside, was alarmingly apparent.