IntelligentZombie - Hobbyist, General Artist | DeviantArt (original) (raw)

Literature

FFM Day 24

Rhamiel pulls his wings in tightly, shivering as cold flames lick at his bare feet, blackening and cracking the flesh. He carries his divinity like a curse through the barrens of hell. He blinks the pain away, thinking only of the absurdity, the plethora of contradictions that construct the obsidian corridors and byways of hell– I pity the prisoners, the souls that think they’re still above, convinced they’re living their lives freely, convinced the pain here is the same they’ve always carried. He swirls a glass of whiskey. Another man takes the seat next to his. “I hear the Devil visits this place, every once in a while.” “What would you do if you were talking to a stranger, who thought you were psychotic?” “You mean you don’t think I’m psychotic?” Rhamiel spreads wings only his lover can see, one full and bright, the other shriveled and torn. The other man’s hand slides into his own, warm and strong to contrast the cold glass. Comfort. “I want to go down with you,” Rhamiel