Monday, December 18, 2006
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Sunday, November 05, 2006
What is life if this is the afterlife? Why go through the struggles of that existence only to end up here? This defies most known religious doctrines that I have encountered.
Of course, I'm encountering new doctrines daily. In the wake of disillusionment, new myths are formed; new religions created from the ashes of the old. Perhaps the worst of these is that of the Pain People.
Their beliefs are fairly simple: we were created to suffer. And if we were created to suffer then suffer we must -- to the best of our ability!
While this certainly mimics the first Noble Truth of Buddhism, unlike Buddhism there is no Eightfold Path to Nirvana.
Their conversion tool is the paranid, or pain worm. Once the worm attaches itself, it creates a feeling of intense agony. I've found no way to detach the worm without obliterating its host at the same time.
Of course, I've noticed the pain worms are forced upon most of their "worshippers." I guess it doesn't matter to them. Why should it? Did it matter to the Inquisition?
Monday, October 23, 2006
The priest looked down at the boy with pity and sighed, "You poor dumb bastard. Does this look like heaven to you?"
Sunday, August 13, 2006
When I came in today, I found someone reading my journal. For a moment, it disturbed me. I know I have no expectation of privacy. That is impossible here. But sometimes I forget. Mercutio doesn't concern himself with such matters. He has a job to do and he gets it done. That's what I like about him.
Fortunately, I have no secrets. Only questions. Questions to which I may never know the answers to. Such as why do the demons throw people into the void? Why do they suck the life out of them? Why do they burrow? Amongst hundreds of millions of dead, why was I chosen?
Mercutio doesn't concern himself with such matters. He has a job to do and he gets it done. That's what I like about him.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Monday, August 07, 2006
There was a particularly fierce battle today. Usually Mercutio and I can handle the demons, but this time we needed help. Fortunately, it came in the form of Ching Shih. There wasn't time to talk, so I didn't get a chance to learn anything about her, but she was quite adept at her job. I wonder how long she's been here.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Thursday, April 27, 2006
A moment later, a quake sent everyone running for safety. It was only a minor tremor, but one never knows how the surface will react. Afterwards, I heard the woman calling out for her brother. He didn't answer.
I witnessed a rare moment of happiness. It was followed by disappointment.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Friday, March 31, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
3. Grim resignation
I think the latter group expected to wind up in some kind of hell and aren't surprised when they arrive here. But is this hell? I don't think so. Though we do have our fair share of demons.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Unlike most of the others consigned here, I am some sort of guardian. My skin is covered in what I would describe as armor made from the same material as this place.
I have powers no else has.
And I'm expected to use these powers to serve the people. To help them. To save them from horrors I never imagined.
I have to stop the demonic hordes from destroying this place.
Except for the constant night, there seems to be no consistency to this place. Nothing remains the same. The faces, the people, even the landscape continuously change.
Who dreamed up this madness?
Friday, February 24, 2006
For now, perhaps I'll simply begin with observations:
I am dead. But where am I? Clearly, this isn't heaven. But is it hell? Purgatory? Something else entirely?
Why does everyone here look like they did in the moment of their death?
Is this physical manifestation of my soul? I never believed in the soul before, but now I'm having my doubts. Of course, I see people from every part of the world here. I shall have to talk to others and get their opinions.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
I am haunted by the memory of my life.
Though it does me no good, I cannot help but remember my last moments. They replay over and over again in my mind along with the question... What could I have done differently?
However, that doesn't matter now. None of it does. The past, my life, my death, it's all meaningless in this place. I must focus on the present.
I don't know how long I'll keep this journal, but I see no reason not to.
Because I cannot date these entries, I will simply number them.
Perhaps it will help focus my thoughts. Perhaps it will be nothing more than a diversion.
Perhaps it will keep me sane.