Arado

I cried in pain as Satan sickeningly regurgitated the brains that he had just pulled out of my skull. By the time he poured hot acid down my esophagus, I could no longer feel pain. My guts had been turned in rabid flesh eating centipedes. I stood up on what remained of my extremities and began to hollow out my already beaten corpse that bear nothing but a heart.  I was able to remove a handful of the vile, parasitic creatures that dominated my body before my knees suddenly shattered under the weight of my rotted, decaying cadaver like plump tomatoes being demolished by boulders. I had lost my mind in despair. I could noting but watch myself die slowly. The only thing I could think to do was crawl up the cobble stone path that led to the only thing I had left, my hope. After all, hope is what dies last in a person. Right before a human dies, they close their eyes as they fall into a state of unconsciousness, hoping that someone will help them while they’re in oblivion. I began making my way up the trail only to find that my fingers dissolved as they made contact with the hard rock. But I wasn’t going to give up, even if I was nothing but an empty eye socket by the time I reached the dearly needed wisp of hope. Again, I tried moving forward but all I did was make my fingers vanish like the memories of my early childhood. All I could do now was wait for death to take me. I shut my eyes, hoping that death would be fast. When I woke up I was back home in my farm house with the most painful headache I’d ever had. My plow was on the floor next to me covered in blood. I knew I should have placed it on the platform more carefully, this wasn’t the first time I knocked my head on it.