Believe

There is a rather popular saying that goes a little bit like this, “If you think you can do something or you think you can’t, you are usually right.” Belief is powerful. And in that same vein, belief is blinding. Let me take from the wisdom of that saying and give you another one. Ahem. Attention please. Here we go. “If you think you’re going to heaven, or if you think you’re going to hell, you’re usually right.” Radical, right? Especially for the radicals. I can almost see them with their orange, reddish tinged beards, I don’t know why they do that - is it some religious mandate? - I can almost see them cracking their knuckles and getting out their torches and sticks. If I must die for expressing my opinions, so be it. My address is ## #, street ##, phase #, dha. Psych. Even if I were to mention it here, I doubt they’d read. It would require an interest in fiction. And they barely read more than titles. Rushdie’s book was fatwa-d by the majority because of the title, ‘Satanic Verses’. How dare he? Must mean the rest of the book is like that. We can’t even be bothered to sparknotes it. If I live in this country long enough, I will get lynched. Anyways.

I used to dream of hellfire. Oh, those were the days.

In a pit. A large cavern. Fire all around me. I am in the pool of fire. I am somehow wading in it. I don’t know if it’s shallow or deep but at the very least my head and arms, and part of my upper torso are sticking out of it. It is only then I see that there are other creatures in this pit. I can’t make them out. They come closer. My heart drops, almost stops for a second. Snakes, lions, all kinds of prey. Slithering over the fire as if it were land. Just as fast. Unbothered. What’s worse than the fear? Their eyes are empty. Sockets. Fire poking out of them. Intelligent fire. Looking at me. The fear sets into my system and it is then that I begin to burn. The pain is exquisite, excruciating. It is everywhere at once, and yet it seems as if it takes its time. Savoring my screams. As if it has all the time in the world. As if it has more than all the time in the world. It does. It singes my nostrils, a sneeze I can’t release. Painful. Tears in my eyes. My hands slowly burning like parchment. Fire in the Center. Sides rimmed with red. The red spreading. The center is black. The black spreading. The skin fades away. Bones. And the pain. The pain is throughout. I almost pass out. But I don’t. The last thought I have before I die, thank god. No more. And the worst part. I come alive again. The realization that I will be brought to life after death. That I am in hell. Eternal torture. The whole thing starts anew.

If you think you’re going to heaven, or if you think you’re going to hell, you’re usually right.

I used to dream of hell. I was a saint.

I am a sinner now. I no longer dream of hell.