Epistles of hell

By Keu Dinku

A tale that spans millions of years in the blurry fight of good and evil. The dividing lines tend to disappear.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Keu Dinku
• Release date: Jan 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224927791

Book preview

Chapter one.

I was a whirlwind sent from the deepest core of hell. I was to find shelter in the bossom of not the wickedest men but the most pious who did slip once in a blue moon. I was tempted though to wrap around the neck of a certain stray cat of a man who was legendary in our legion of demons. His soul was summoned years ago but his sins were too delicious and none of us wanted to see him perish. The particular fiend tasked with corrupting his soul was leagues far from him, considering he didn't need encouragement to fall into sin with resounding blows. A sad sigh escaped our lips everytime he fell into great slumber for each of his waking hours was a delight to each of us. Pain and malice did sprout in his wake wherever his restless soul toured. We loved him not but his creative way of sticking it up to the heavens was enough to gladden a host of malicious beings.

A greater sinner hadn't yet lived. He lured innocents to their death with ease that death himself, our angelic brother clad in black, hadn't mustered. At times we speculated that he might have been our lord and master.

A thousand years! We hadn't set eyes on him. How does one plop into a hole for an eternity? His dark presence couldn't be felt at all. A presence that in itself warped time and space. A black hole of a being.

In my musings I did run into a restless angry brethren. The pitiless fool for a worthless minute thinks I have come to share his domain but am on a far much important job. He tries to pry a morsel from my teeth but it's all in vain.

Be on your way you wretch! I rebuke the filthy entity.

And you on your way weakling! He flings back at me.

His ugly face is repulsive beyond measure. Dry blood is encrusted on his upper left cheek. A huge chunk of the right of his face is missing, mangled off by another in a fierce duel that occurred just recently. The cursed entity gives me a hateful glance and then slinks away.

Phew! Good riddance. It was scum like that who brought about the great defeat. It didn't matter though,  a new world was crystallizing. One that transcended the foolish duality that had all creation and creator in a bind. One where the wicked lion and innocent child would prowl together.

It was only a matter of a few two hundred years. The murderers would shed their blood in peace. What a wickedly delicious double edged line. The wicked would shed their blood in peace. A slimy crevice where God and Satan would be banished from setting a foot.

It was too good to be true. The fools thought that a fiends  sole purpose was evil and mostly in the form of always inflicting pain.

One might indeed turn an evil eye on the humans from time to time but not with every passing second. The importance that man had thrust upon himself was staggering. If only there was a way to rip into  their illusion. Such prideful mortals who slithered about on earth burning with demonic entitlement.

Demons couldn't be blamed for being demons nor beasts for being beasts. Man however wasn't uniformly man. To hell with him! Each time a man uttered this in regards to another,  it would cause an eruption of laughter among the legions and cause the flames to rise higher and higher. Their generals languished in heaps of lava hot feaces on the floors of hell.

How was one supposed to rever such beings? Disgusting in all their ways, even the ones that made an attempt at sainthood. Rotting with holiness and holding themselves worthy. Going full circle and finding themselves standing in the same place that Lucifer stood.

Chapter two

I take a labored break from this golden musings and rush on my way to my blessed host. A vain beautiful woman with slender waist and supple skin. In this very moment in time, she's vibrant and dazzling. The bulls stumble about her in senseless heat. There lies on the face of this earth a thousand beauties like her but many have eyes only for  my host. They deem it a blessing to die at her feet with thirst unquenched, how so? Men prat over and over annoyingly that God is mysterious but man is even more mysterious.

With their angelic faces coupled with  'beastly' doings. Their logic dumbfounds even the brightest of us for we are not fools.

I found her crumpled in a corner,  tears lacerating that rosy face. Her that inspired a vale of tears was in dire straits herself. Her that had two suicides preciously dedicated to her beauty. Wasn't it last week that a brethren whispered in poor Marco's ear.

If you can't have her, then what is life? Marco heard this words reverberating crazily in his soul and hanged himself. Believing that perhaps he stood a chance in the next world. A fool so corksure that it could have made a chink on Lucifer's pride. Just a little chink that is.

ooh, and what about the guttural laughter that slit her sides when they told her of his suicide note.

Let my body be a macabre bouquet of roses that tragically falls at thy feet. If all is not lost, at the least attend my funeral and I shall look favourably upon you from beyond what a fantastic piece of rubbish, she'd thought