She was not going to be fooled, no, oh no, not again, she was not. She would have liked to have pulled out the teeth, or better yet, fingernails of the two zombies that tricked her, along with the tall man. But it would be a long ever-after, so it was best left alone, she figured. Again she noticed the two assistants to the Henchman spiting gobs of slime on the new-comers. What an awful entertaining dilemma, should you just stand up there and do nothing it might be worse though, so was her thinking. New hell bound figures, shapes; strangers were coming in by the truck loads she deciphered. Every hour on the hour, throughout the night and day this was happening.
She stood there looking at the gates, the two huge wooden and iron gates: and the two robust solders, that is to say, one being a little on the fat side the other being muscular but with a little head in comparison to his body, with kind of a big ass: these demonic beings looking over the wall by the tower , the tower that was attached to the walkway of the wall, some twenty feet thick. It reminded her of the Great Wall of China, with its towers in-between sections. She now had felt relief, at least in the gizzard, as if an arrow had lodged itself in it, or bullet, and she had just passed it on through, and up and out of her throat, and coughed it up and out: for in comparison to the mass, the heap beyond the gate city, this was a jewel in the raw.
She remained standing for awhile, like a lost being, a whole lot of lost I suppose you could say, like being on the dock of San Francisco looking out towards the Golden Gate Bridge, where once she lived, before moving to St. Paul, Minnesota. But here was not San Francisco by far, it was what it was, no place on the surface of the globe could have described this place. Thus, shed remained a mental piece or ornamentin a dark infested gulag of a wonderland: watching the new, strangers come in, no one ever leaving except the de monic forcesand like it had happened to her, they: the new ones, were switched away to the masses or beyond.
11.
This entirety, all that was in front of her, all that dragged behind her in her new frame of mind was no longer suppressed: there was no way, she indigently mumbled: no way to get used to this: she was no longer in pretense, or disbelief, she was in reality, but with some kind of raw hope, hope that leaves one once, denial is settled as an issue.
The view of the harbor was right outside the gate, right over the wall, she could see it as she also witnessed a colossal size being within its waters, they called him Huwawa, he was the, the guardian of the river, he walked up and down the wharf area, and out into some of the deeper waters, for he was huge, as huge as any five men possible more. Thus, if he saw a body-spirit trying to get away, hed pick it up, and throw it in a nearby boat. Oh yes, some jumped the boat trying to get away, scoot to n ever-never land, to sink to the bottom of the riversink so no one could find them, even hide in the rock structures, but they floated back up sooner or later, that also was no place to be for eternity; but it was not the boatmans job to race after them either, yet hed do so if he was bored.
They simply would drown a million times in the waterit was painful hiding in the depths of the water, painful in their forms, and Huwawa would eventually find them. Huwawa had a face twisted in coil form, or so it seemed to Ms Alexandra Rice as she stared from a distance at this ancient creature of sorts. Surely she completed, from the top of the wall one would have a better view, that being, by the tower gate which was attached to the gates and the wall walkway: yes, she mumbled, it would be sensational: but if she was to get, get used to it here, she might as well start somewhere up on the wall, which seemed plausible.
Said she to the wall guards, Buer and Gusoyn [Gusoyn, somewhat feministic, strong looking and with strange ancient hawk feet, gay as gay could be,
If Im to get used to this horrid place, is it not better I do it from up here? I mean if you do not object.
She thought that sounded like a rational question, but nothing was really rational around the dark prison under the earth, in the earths crust, someplace, where cold and heat live close to one another, and have their own separated chambers for the dying, or no one is ever dead down here, only constantly dying. Buer, grunted with un-vivacious sounds, the one who played the nasty joke on her. Both guards looked at one another: strangely, rowdily, eccentrically as if to say: were too busy to throw you off a hundred times a day, so do as you please or at least to a certain degree.
Said Gusoyn, Sure, no more was said, a man of few words.
As she peered over the wall onto the people coming out from the boats: looking at all the ferry-boats [although they we re not ferryboats, rather passenger row boats, some sail boats, others vessels of different kind. The boots were coming in all directions to the many nooks and corners of the harbor. One boat she noticed got so close to another it hit the other boat, and broke the nose of the demon who raged with obscenities at the two passengers in the boat, with spite and slobbering spit flying on everyone, every-which-way; thus, accidents do happen, even in Hell.
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Short Story
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