Straight From The Devil’s Mouth (Version 1-Part 1): Welcome To Hell

Quick Acknowledgements

To Danceinsilence,Mnezz, and Undermeyou for making me want to continue this series, thank you so much.

John viciously slammed his pen against the dark oak desk. The pen immediately was fractured and oozed out black ink as it spilled out from the round chamber leaving dark stains on his crystal nails and on the remainder of his trembling left hand. His dying words on the darkening page were quickly being consumed by ravenous black ink, John instantly snapped and remembered the words he had written before his miniature outburst :“She was heaven, a being of natural gold…”. John’s photographic memory kept his dark nights from being lost in time and kept them entertaining(or at least interesting enough to stow away for the following days and months). His rage was frequent during his writing sessions, but so was his peace. John picked up the corpse of the pen and threw it into the ‘abyss’, or better known as the holy grail of a writer’s thoughts- a trash can. Specifically, a dark metal bin that was slowly being choked out by crumpled white pages.The bin also had a newly added pool of ink from around 6 P.M and the newest from 10 P.M. The night was diving into the vacant room and John was trying to figure out what would happen from here until the sun jumped back up in the sky: one, he could go to sleep(or at least try to), or two, he could continue to slave away at his embracing desk to try to realize some fictitious ideal. John slowly stood up from his desk in search for another pen and some napkins.

John was locked in a writer’s high, strolling along the smooth,creamy pages of his leather-bound notebook. The dark luscious ink made the night spin and spin. A girl had trapped his every thought, he could not push her away, not even by splashing his words onto these tormenting pages.He was in a daze. For two months John had spent every night trying to escape her, she had brown eyes with waving glowing auburn hair and a crescent smile that mimicked the moon’s glow. Every time he saw her he was pumped with mandated pills and bubbling liquids. His dreams were dark paradisal trips that rode him through the wintry pathways of his mind. Nothing could stop him, he was a juggernaut of love shattering through every image and dream he had of her.

It was around 2 A.M when John gazed out into the glimmering city, he had hardly felt the piercing glow that the Legion Towers emitted all through the flying night. His eyes were caving in and beginning to struggle to maintain the harmonious consciousness that worked as his caffeine well into the night. John knew for sure that sooner or later he would have to lay in his despotic bed, but did it have to be now? He was close to realizing his dreams: “her golden eyes were ferocious, she slithered through dark forged dreams unraveling…”. John had cut short the verse, he was furious and heavily fatigued, “I can’t give up now” he thought, but it was no use, it was another failed night; and a horrendous tomorrow awaited him and those he faintly remembered.

Image by KellPics ( https://pixabay.com/users/kellepics-4893063/ )