Ice. Burning cold on all of my limbs. Head to toe. This is all I have ever known. I gaze around to look at the empty, solemn world I am living in. Not that I am actually living, however. The wind wails like a child looking for its mother, impossibly lonely. I could not help but feel the same way. Snow of all sizes, ranging from light powder to heavy hail, crashes to the white ground from the lonely sky. The vast, monochrome grey void stretches to what seems like an infinite distance. The harsh wind whips around in a frenzied whirlwind-like chaos. My raw, red skin burns when the snow and freezing rain collide with my skin. The wintery mix feels like shards of glass ripping into my skin. I attempt to move, but my joints were nearly frozen from the sub zero temperatures around me. My fiery anger, overflowing with hatred towards God, may have been cooled by the hyperborean atmosphere had my aching rib cage not protected it. I breathe in the air, only to breathe in snow, then cough violently to try and rid my body of the pure, white, burning flakes. “I hate you, you filthy tyrant!” I scream, shrieking as more snow enters my lungs, burning them. I burn from the inside out and the outside in. The intense pain would have been enough to commit suicide, that is, if I had not already met my maker. Snatching my arm as more shards hit my skin, I notice burn marks.
How did this happen, I ponder curiously, continuing to scan my body of the mysterious burn scars. I do not remember anything of my past. “Who am I? What am I? Where did I come from?” I bawl, hoping for an reply, only to be answered with my screaming tears freezing on my face. The white Hell would have been enough to replace my memories with pain, but not wipe my mind like a chalk...
... middle of paper ...
...ed, blood curdling screams surround me and pain fills my head, giving me an indescribable headache. I am not alone here. My skin, still red from the ice, is turning more black than before. An epiphany hits me and I think, knowing this is where the burns are from.
The world is burning, yet never burns. There are no powdery ashes, indicating chemical reactions, just deep hued stalagmites and stalactites coated by skyscraper flames. These must be godly flames. They are not fueled by physical matter, but emotional and mental pain from the souls it torments. I wish it was ice… I wish it were cooler…. I wish… it was less hot… It is hot, I think, my memories of the ice slowly burn away. I do not recall any pain other than the fire now. My entire world, my existence is now fire and rage. Hell replaces and erases every memory I had before. This, this is my eternal torment.
The freezing wind had chilled my hand to the bone. Even as I walked into my cabin, I shivered as if there was an invisible man shaking me. My ears, fingers, toes, and noes had turned into a pale purple, only starting to change color once I had made a fire and bundled myself in blankets like ancient Egyptians would do to their deceased Pharaohs. The once powdered snow on my head had solidified into a thin layer of ice. I changed out of the soaking wet clothes I was wearing and put on new dry ones. With each layer I became more excited to go out and start snowboarding. I headed for the lift with my board and my hand. Each step was a struggle with the thick suit of snow gear I was armored in.
What is Hell? According to the online Oxford Dictionary, “ A place regarded in various religions as a spiritual realm of evil and suffering, often traditionally depicted as a place of perpetual fire beneath the earth where the wicked are punished after death.” A horrible place to be. Have you ever see someone tortured? I hope not, it is a terrible thing. Imagine this scene: An individual, engulfed in flames. Screaming for help but no one can do anything about it. Skin boiling, shrieks of agony, truly a horrid scene. What crime could someone have done to deserve such a punishment. Let us use an illustration. A good father would punish his child when he has done something wrong. But a cruel father would torture him. Hell from this perspective is illogical.
In Langston Hughes’ essay “Salvation,” Langston talks about the first time he is going to be saved from sin. Langston is a young boy around the age of thirteen. He is going to church to see Jesus for the first time. In which case, he truly experiences religion for the first time in his life. Throughout this essay Langston uses many narrative techniques such as, imagery, metaphors, and irony to explain his interpretation of that one night when he did not see Jesus.
Dante Alighieri's The Inferno is a poem written in first person that tells a story of Dante’s journey through the nine circles of Hell after he strays from the rightful path. Each circle of Hell contains sinners who have committed different sins during their lifetime and are punished based on the severity of their sins. When taking into the beliefs and moral teachings of the Catholic Church into consideration, these punishments seem especially unfair and extreme.
What does hell look like? This question has survived throughout the millennia because people hold no clear answer to it. Various depictions of hell have been created, but one of the most incredibly vivid interpretations comes from Dante Alighieri’s epic three-part poem, The Divine Comedy. Dante’s journey through hell in Inferno (the first book of his epic) is well attributed to the different levels of torture people experience in accordance to their sins. One aspect that is often overlooked, however, is how the weather described within his poem affects the impact of each sin. In fact, weather such as hurricane-like wind, putrid rain, and flaming snow vigorously enhanced the nature of their corresponding sins portrayed in Dante’s Inferno.
Over the centuries one of the most common forms of punishment is imprisonment. As times past by the prison has taken on various shapes and forms. The quality and most conditions of prisons have changed in order to provide better living conditions for the inmates, but the main purpose of the prison has never changed, the online article Welcome to Stop the Crime states that “ a prison have four major purposes, these include retribution, incapacitation, deterrence and rehabilitation” (stoptheaca.org). This shows that the prison is there to ensure that criminals pay back society for the crimes they have committed; it also serves as an area to keep criminals from hurting innocent civilians and it is also there to transform prisoners to law abiding citizens. The prison life is a common topic discussed between boys of all ages, and it is very common to hear past prisoners convincing them that the prison life isn’t hard at all and that it’s very simple. Although some prisoners try to make the prison life sound fun and carefree when it’s compared to the life of a free individual it can be clearly seen that the prison life is much harder.
Fire and brimstone, flames engulfing people, and the endless cries from the souls that are suffering are all things that are commonly associated with hell. It’s not thought of as some place of just punishment, but filled with pain and torment. The question raised is whether or not it is actually full of fire and heat, or is it something different. When we read about hell in Dante’s Inferno, he describes the place not only full of fire, but also of ice, wind, and rain. All of the elements sit on different levels that have been thoughtfully laid out by Dante himself. Carol Forman speaks of how Dante set up his hell, “Hell is structured around Dante’s concept of sin.
...e fire of passion, and the stern gray of judgment can be found in the charred remains of punishment and pain.
Looking back on my childhood, I have many memories shrouded in fear and self-loathing. I was raised in the Baptist church. My mother and grandmother made sure that I attended church every Sunday morning. My grandmother was from the mid-west. She carried her strict Bible belt background with her as she traveled west with my grandfather. The many lessons I learned from my grandmother and the minister at our church played a big part in how I began to see the world and my place in it.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
captive by a sheath of frost, as were the glacial branches that scraped at my windows, begging to get in. It is indeed the coldest year I can remember, with winds like barbs that caught and pulled at my skin. People ceaselessly searched for warmth, but my family found that this year, the warmth was searching for us.
Another cause of this conflict is the fact that Baker forgot about the position that Rennalls father occupied and acted as a foreign that only tries to prove that Barracanians are inferior.
A blast of adrenaline charges throughout my body as I experience the initial drop. My body's weight shifts mechanically, cutting the snow in a practiced rhythm. The trail curves abruptly and I advance toward a shaded region of the mountain. Suddenly, my legs chatter violently, scraping against the concealed ice patches that pepper the trail. After overcompensating from a nearly disastrous slip, balance fails and my knees buckle helplessly. In a storm of powder snow and ski equipment, body parts collide with nature. My left hand plows forcefully into ice, cracking painfully at the wrist. For an eternity of 30 seconds, my body somersaults downward, moguls of ice toy with my head and further agonize my broken wrist. Ultimately veering into underbrush and pine trees, my cheeks burn, my broken wrist surging with pain. Standing up confused, I attempt climbing the mountain but lose another 20 feet to the force of gravity.
Throughout the eons, man, known as the most inquisitive of creatures, had always sought the meaning of life. The answer had varied; to an altruistic person, man was made to serve the common good wheras to a Douglas Adams fan, the answer was merely 42. Philosophers dedicated their lives for the meaning of life and the reason for our existence here on Earth. Unlike other philosophers such as John Locke and Ayn Rand, famed writer Albert Camus believed that life had no meaning. According to Camus, life was, simply stated, absurd. Camus asserted three main tenets of his philosophy, coined Absurdism. Camus believed that this is the only world humans would ever know and this world is indifferent and aloof to our existence. Furthermore, he believed that the reason for existence lied within each individual. Nevertheless, Camus thought than individual did not stay a cold and aloof being, as might be expected, but rather was always in a state of incomplete development towards becoming more free and autonomous. As a writer, Albert Camus exemplified the Absurdist notion of an independent,fluxatiing individual in an indifferent world in his acclaimed book The Stranger. In the novel The Stranger, Albert Camus exemplifies the three main tenets of Absurdism through the actions, deeds and thoughts of the main character Meursault as he changes from a rigidly aloof man to one who is in love with the very idea of life
OUCH! My leg crippled with pain. I tried to shuffle my way to the window, but it was excruciating. As my senses kicked back in, I felt pains shooting up and down my body. Peering down at my hands I screamed. My hands were covered in cold, congealed blood.