Labelled diagram of lungs

hi! i am working on my economics assignment for school (Singapore) and i am pretty lost when it comes to drawing demand curve for this case. Based on the information provided below, am I supposed to draw demand curves for before and after GST hike? I'm leaning towards drawing just one demand curve before GST hike. Would appreciate your help, thanks in advance!
Case - Singapore GST hike Singapore’s sales tax went up from 8 per cent to 9 per cent on 1 Jan 2024. Mr Khairul Azhar, 33, is moving to his new home in May 2024, but has already spent more than $8,000 on kitchen appliances in December. Some consumers like Mr Khairul were hoping to beat the tax hike amid rising costs of living, doing last-minute shopping in December 2023, especially for big-ticket items. Sensing an opportunity, at least 20 retailers from department stores to furniture shops held year-end sales to attract buyers before the Jan 1 deadline. Some like Audio House and Harvey Norman had promotions targeting customers to “beat the GST hike”. Madam See Su-Ming, 55, who works in administration, took a week off work in December to do her shopping and compare prices between different department stores. Apart from trying to beat the GST hike, he also wanted to capitalise on the year-end promotions. Source: Adapted and edited from https://www.straitstimes.com/singapore/2024-gsthike-s-poreans-head-to-shops-for-year-end-furniture-sales-before-impendingincrease, 2 Jan 2024
With evidence(s) from your research, explain if demand for the higher-priced kitchen appliances is price-elastic or inelastic and if it is a normal or inferior product. Support your answers on the impact of the Singapore’s GST hike with a clearly labelled diagram of demand curves. Limit your answer to one page.

Let’s use vestigial structures as a specific example of the non-falsifiability of evolution. When it became clear, based on advancing medical science, that the roughly 180 anatomical structures that evolutionists had originally claimed were useless actually were useful, they resorted to a fall-back position, which is a classic post-hoc explanatory device. They now claim that these structures supposedly served some OTHER function in the past, but now they have another function. Crapo in 1985, for example, wrote: “This is precisely how a vestige should be defined: Not as a ‘functionless’ part of an organism, but as a part which does not function in the way that its structure would lead us to expected, given how that structure function in most other organisms.” Notice now Crapo’s analysis here also confirms how important attacking the belief in God as a wise, efficient, benevolent Creator is to evolutionists: “It is the existence of such vestiges in such organisms which evolutionary theory would very naturally predict, but which the belief in an efficient Designer would not lead us to expect a priori.” (Italics removed, Richly Crapo, “Are the vanishing teeth of fetal baleen whales useless?” 1985). This kind of fall-back position for “explaining” vestigial structures illustrates the non-falsifiable nature of evolution. When medical science confirms the a priori viewpoint of the creationist model, that all of these anatomical structures really are useful and God didn’t insert useless organs and structures into the human body, the evolutionists don’t admit that their paradigm is falsified. Instead, they simply retreat into other rationalizations to keep attacking God as a shoddy, careless, unwise engineer. Here once again the viewpoint of Cornelius Hunter’s book “Darwin’s God: Evolution and the Problem of Evil” is confirmed: Evolutionists are engaged in negative natural theology when they argue against a supernatural explanation of the natural world based upon its perceived structural flaws and moral evils. Indeed, they find it crucial and very important to supporting their paradigm to do this. Needless to say, this kind of reasoning is every bit as metaphysical as the theologian who argues that the wonders and complexity of the natural world proves God’s existence. Any claim that evolution, when it enters the world of change above the genus or family taxonomic levels, is more “empirical” than creationism, is simply false.
The example of supposedly “vestigial” organs is also a great example of how the theory of evolution slows down scientific development and research. If an anatomical structure is a priori judged to be “vestigial,” then scientists who are evolutionists aren’t likely to study it carefully for what it really does. For example, tonsils were often removed for decades from children since they were judged to be simply “useless vestiges.” Later on, oops!, it was found out that they actually do fight disease. They weren’t so useless after all. Basically all 180 organs and anatomical structures that were once listed as “useless vestiges” (in one way or another) have been found to have real functions. For instance, the “yolk sac” is used by a developing human embryo to make its first blood cells; death would result without it. The coccyx was claimed to be a remnant of our purported evolutionary ancestors having a tail, but it’s actually a crucial point for muscle attachment needed for our upright posture (and, well, for defecation). So to say this is about “prior functions” as opposed to current functions is a great example of how evolutionists attempt to escape falsification of their paradigm. They assume these “prior functions” really existed a priori, when that remains to be proven. There’s no way to test, predict, observe, reproduce the selective advantage of supposed intermediate structures for the survival of the species in question, which supposedly occurred long ago in the prehistorical past. This is yet another example of circular reasoning by evolutionists, in which they assume what still needs to be proven.
A great, focused book from a creationist viewpoint on this general subject of "vestigial" organs is Jerry Bergman, Ph.D., and George Howe, Ph.d., "'Vestigial Organs' Are Fully Functional," Creation Research Society, St. Joseph, MO, 1990.
Super erudite, extra scholarly addendum, for those interested in grinding the details:
In response to one evolutionist critic in the past, I decided to do some research on this subject in order to be able to reproduce evidence for my reference about when evolutionists said that there were around 180 vestigial organs. The key evolutionist book that originated this specific number on this subject is Robert Wiedersheim, "The Structure of man: an index to his past history," which was published in English in 1895 and translated by H. and M. Bernard (Macmillan, London), which is available online through Google books since it has an expired copyright. According to Jerry Bergman and George Howe, "'Vestigial Organs' Are Fully Functional," p. 5, he developed a detailed list of 86 vestigial organs and "about 100 so-called retrogressive organs." Here I've reproduced the list of the 86 vestigial organs. I suppose someone would have to do more research to get the list of 100 "retrogressive organs," which apparently come from the same book.
If a medical doctor is available to survey this list, would he or she say that these organs are useless? Wasn't Wiedersheim simply wrong? Do evolutionists ever admit to error in the arguments that they make for their theory? Or do they simply keep pushing the same nonsense, regardless of how many times it has been proven false?
Here is Wiedersheim's list of the human body's supposedly useless vestigial organs/anatomical structures: Os coccygis. Cauda humana.Superfluous embryonic notochord and associated somites.Embryonic cervical, lumbar, and sacral ribs.The thirteenth rib of the adult.The seventh cervical rib in the adult.The interarticular cartilage of the sterno-clavicular joint (probable vestige of the episternal apparatus).Ossa supra-sternalia.Certain centres of ossification in the manubrium sterni.The branchial clefts (for the most part) and branchial ridges.Processus styloideus ossis temporis, and the ligamentum stylo-hyoideum.Anterior cornua of the hyoid, for the greater part.Foramen caecum of the tongue.Processus gracilis of the malleus.Post-frontal bone (?)Ossa interparietalia (and ? prseinterparietalia).Processus paramastoideus of exoccipital.Torus occipitalis.Processus frontalis of the temporal.Processus coracoideus .Os centrale carpi.Processus supracondyloideus humeri.Trochanter tertius femoris.The phalanges of the fifth toe, and less conspicuously of the third and fourth toes.Muscles of the pinna and the Musculus occipitalis. LM. transversus nuchae. L. --Facial muscles transformed into tendinous expansions.Mm. plantaris and palmaris longus, when completely tendinous.M. ischio femoralis.The caudal muscles.M. epitrochleo-anconseus.M. latissimo-condyloideus.M. transversus thoracis (triangularis sterni).M. palmaris brevis.The transition bundles between the trapezius and the sterno- cleido-mastoideus.M. levator claviculae.M. rectus thoracis.M. ere master.The primitive hairy covering or lanugo.Vestiges of vibrissaeThe vertex coccygeus, the foveola and glabella coccygea.Certain vortices of hair on the breast.Nipples in men.Supernumerary mammary glands in women.Alleged vestiges of mammary pouchesSupernumerary olfactory ridges.Jacobson's organ, and ductus naso-palatinus.Papilla palatina and foliata.Plica semilunaris of the eye.Vasa hyaloidse (Cloquet's canal) of the embryo the choroidal fissure.Lachrymal glands, in part.The epicanthus.M. orbitalis.Certain varieties of the pinna of the ear, i.e. Darwin's tubercle.The filum terminale of the spinal cord.Glandula pinealis and parietal organ.The parieto-occipital fissure of the brain .The obex, ponticulus, ligula, taeniae medullares, and velum medullare anterius and posterius, of the brain.The hypophysis cerebri (pituitary body).The dorsal roots and ganglia of the hypoglossus nerve.The rami recurrentes of certain cranial nerves.Certain elements of the brachial and lumbo-sacral plexuses.The coccygeal nerve.The glandula coccygea.Palatal ridges.The sublingua.The formation of rudimentary dental papillae before the sinking of the dental ridge.The Wisdom teethThe occurrence of a third premolar (reversionary).The occurrence of a fourth molar (reversionary).The vestiges of a third dentition.The ciliated epithelium of the embryonic oesophagus.Bursa sub- and prehyoidea (ductus thyroglossus).Musculi broncho-oesophagei.The appendix vermiformis.Ventricle of the larynx (Morgagni's pouch).Lobus subpericardiacus of the lung (reversionary).Certain Valves of the veins.Certain structures of a vestigial nature in the heart.Arteria sacralis media.Arteria ischiadica.Superficial plantar arterial arch of the foot.The vena cava superior sinistra.Venae cardinales posteriores, and ductus Cuvieri.Vestiges (in the female) of the mesonephric system, and (in the male) of the Müllerian ducts.Conus inguinalis, and ligamentum inguinale.The area scroti.
See also pages 200-209 of Robert Weidman’s book, which he labels “Conspectus of Organs Mentioned in the Text” and “List of Organs According to Systems.”

Let’s use vestigial structures as a specific example of the non-falsifiability of evolution. When it became clear, based on advancing medical science, that the roughly 180 anatomical structures that evolutionists had originally claimed were useless actually were useful, they resorted to a fall-back position, which is a classic post-hoc explanatory device. They now claim that these structures supposedly served some OTHER function in the past, but now they have another function. Crapo in 1985, for example, wrote: “This is precisely how a vestige should be defined: Not as a ‘functionless’ part of an organism, but as a part which does not function in the way that its structure would lead us to expected, given how that structure function in most other organisms.” Notice now Crapo’s analysis here also confirms how important attacking the belief in God as a wise, efficient, benevolent Creator is to evolutionists: “It is the existence of such vestiges in such organisms which evolutionary theory would very naturally predict, but which the belief in an efficient Designer would not lead us to expect a priori.” (Italics removed, Richly Crapo, “Are the vanishing teeth of fetal baleen whales useless?” 1985). This kind of fall-back position for “explaining” vestigial structures illustrates the non-falsifiable nature of evolution. When medical science confirms the a priori viewpoint of the creationist model, that all of these anatomical structures really are useful and God didn’t insert useless organs and structures into the human body, the evolutionists don’t admit that their paradigm is falsified. Instead, they simply retreat into other rationalizations to keep attacking God as a shoddy, careless, unwise engineer. Here once again the viewpoint of Cornelius Hunter’s book “Darwin’s God: Evolution and the Problem of Evil” is confirmed: Evolutionists are engaged in negative natural theology when they argue against a supernatural explanation of the natural world based upon its perceived structural flaws and moral evils. Indeed, they find it crucial and very important to supporting their paradigm to do this. Needless to say, this kind of reasoning is every bit as metaphysical as the theologian who argues that the wonders and complexity of the natural world proves God’s existence. Any claim that evolution, when it enters the world of change above the genus or family taxonomic levels, is more “empirical” than creationism, is simply false.
The example of supposedly “vestigial” organs is also a great example of how the theory of evolution slows down scientific development and research. If an anatomical structure is a priori judged to be “vestigial,” then scientists who are evolutionists aren’t likely to study it carefully for what it really does. For example, tonsils were often removed for decades from children since they were judged to be simply “useless vestiges.” Later on, oops!, it was found out that they actually do fight disease. They weren’t so useless after all. Basically all 180 organs and anatomical structures that were once listed as “useless vestiges” (in one way or another) have been found to have real functions. For instance, the “yolk sac” is used by a developing human embryo to make its first blood cells; death would result without it. The coccyx was claimed to be a remnant of our purported evolutionary ancestors having a tail, but it’s actually a crucial point for muscle attachment needed for our upright posture (and, well, for defecation). So to say this is about “prior functions” as opposed to current functions is a great example of how evolutionists attempt to escape falsification of their paradigm. They assume these “prior functions” really existed a priori, when that remains to be proven. There’s no way to test, predict, observe, reproduce the selective advantage of supposed intermediate structures for the survival of the species in question, which supposedly occurred long ago in the prehistorical past. This is yet another example of circular reasoning by evolutionists, in which they assume what still needs to be proven.
A great, focused book from a creationist viewpoint on this general subject of "vestigial" organs is Jerry Bergman, Ph.D., and George Howe, Ph.d., "'Vestigial Organs' Are Fully Functional," Creation Research Society, St. Joseph, MO, 1990.
Super erudite, extra scholarly addendum, for those interested in grinding the details:
In response to one evolutionist critic in the past, I decided to do some research on this subject in order to be able to reproduce evidence for my reference about when evolutionists said that there were around 180 vestigial organs. The key evolutionist book that originated this specific number on this subject is Robert Wiedersheim, "The Structure of man: an index to his past history," which was published in English in 1895 and translated by H. and M. Bernard (Macmillan, London), which is available online through Google books since it has an expired copyright. According to Jerry Bergman and George Howe, "'Vestigial Organs' Are Fully Functional," p. 5, he developed a detailed list of 86 vestigial organs and "about 100 so-called retrogressive organs." Here's the list of the 86 vestigial organs. I suppose someone would have to do more research to get the list of 100 "retrogressive organs," which apparently come from the same book.If a medical doctor is available to survey this list, would he or she say that these organs are useless? Wasn't Wiedersheim simply wrong? Do evolutionists ever admit to error in the arguments that they make for their theory? Or do they simply keep pushing the same nonsense, regardless of how many times it has been proven false?
Here is Wiedersheim's list of the human body's supposedly useless vestigial organs/anatomical structures: Os coccygis. Cauda humana.Superfluous embryonic notochord and associated somites.Embryonic cervical, lumbar, and sacral ribs.The thirteenth rib of the adult.The seventh cervical rib in the adult.The interarticular cartilage of the sterno-clavicular joint (probable vestige of the episternal apparatus).Ossa supra-sternalia.Certain centres of ossification in the manubrium sterni.The branchial clefts (for the most part) and branchial ridges.Processus styloideus ossis temporis, and the ligamentum stylo-hyoideum.Anterior cornua of the hyoid, for the greater part.Foramen caecum of the tongue.Processus gracilis of the malleus.Post-frontal bone (?)Ossa interparietalia (and ? prseinterparietalia).Processus paramastoideus of exoccipital.Torus occipitalis.Processus frontalis of the temporal.Processus coracoideus .Os centrale carpi.Processus supracondyloideus humeri.Trochanter tertius femoris.The phalanges of the fifth toe, and less conspicuously of the third and fourth toes.Muscles of the pinna and the Musculus occipitalis. LM. transversus nuchae. L. --Facial muscles transformed into tendinous expansions.Mm. plantaris and palmaris longus, when completely tendinous.M. ischio femoralis.The caudal muscles.M. epitrochleo-anconseus.M. latissimo-condyloideus.M. transversus thoracis (triangularis sterni).M. palmaris brevis.The transition bundles between the trapezius and the sterno- cleido-mastoideus.M. levator claviculae.M. rectus thoracis.M. ere master.The primitive hairy covering or lanugo.Vestiges of vibrissaeThe vertex coccygeus, the foveola and glabella coccygea.Certain vortices of hair on the breast.Nipples in men.Supernumerary mammary glands in women.Alleged vestiges of mammary pouchesSupernumerary olfactory ridges.Jacobson's organ, and ductus naso-palatinus.Papilla palatina and foliata.Plica semilunaris of the eye.Vasa hyaloidse (Cloquet's canal) of the embryo the choroidal fissure.Lachrymal glands, in part.The epicanthus.M. orbitalis.Certain varieties of the pinna of the ear, i.e. Darwin's tubercle.The filum terminale of the spinal cord.Glandula pinealis and parietal organ.The parieto-occipital fissure of the brain .The obex, ponticulus, ligula, taeniae medullares, and velum medullare anterius and posterius, of the brain.The hypophysis cerebri (pituitary body).The dorsal roots and ganglia of the hypoglossus nerve.The rami recurrentes of certain cranial nerves.Certain elements of the brachial and lumbo-sacral plexuses.The coccygeal nerve.The glandula coccygea.Palatal ridges.The sublingua.The formation of rudimentary dental papillae before the sinking of the dental ridge.The Wisdom teethThe occurrence of a third premolar (reversionary).The occurrence of a fourth molar (reversionary).The vestiges of a third dentition.The ciliated epithelium of the embryonic oesophagus.Bursa sub- and prehyoidea (ductus thyroglossus).Musculi broncho-oesophagei.The appendix vermiformis.Ventricle of the larynx (Morgagni's pouch).Lobus subpericardiacus of the lung (reversionary).Certain Valves of the veins.Certain structures of a vestigial nature in the heart.Arteria sacralis media.Arteria ischiadica.Superficial plantar arterial arch of the foot.The vena cava superior sinistra.Venae cardinales posteriores, and ductus Cuvieri.Vestiges (in the female) of the mesonephric system, and (in the male) of the Müllerian ducts.Conus inguinalis, and ligamentum inguinale.The area scroti.
See also pages 200-209 of Robert Weidman’s book, which he labels “Conspectus of Organs Mentioned in the Text” and “List of Organs According to Systems.”

~RIGL Thesis – 5/18/2024~
Outstanding Shares 175M
131 Institutional Holders
111,129,461 Total Shares Held
63.36% Institutional Ownership
Total Cash on Hand 3/31/2024 = $49.6M
Total Debt: $101.5M
Cash Burn Approximate = $8M per quarter (6 quarters of cash without any increases in revenue)
Q12023 REV = $26M
Q22023 REV = $26.8M
Q32023 REV = $28.1M
Q42023 REV = $35.8M
Q12024 REV = $29.5M (Decline from Q4 likely from end of year versus new-year tracking of Rx and shipments of drugs, resetting of Copays)
Most Recent EPS -$0.05 per share
May 22, 2024 - Vote on S will take place, caution
~Statistics Applicable To Thesis~
333.3 million US Population (2022)
8,109,679,892 Global Population (2024)
~Drugs On Market~
~Tavalisse – Treatment for ITP, FDA Approved April 17, 2018~
~What is ITP?~
Immune thrombocytopenia (ITP) is an illness that can lead to bruising and bleeding. Low levels of the cells that help blood clot, also known as platelets, most often cause the bleeding.
Once known as idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura, ITP can cause purple bruises. It also can cause tiny reddish-purple dots on the skin that look like a rash.
Children can get ITP after a virus. They most often get better without treatment. In adults, the illness often lasts months or years. People with ITP who aren't bleeding and whose platelet count isn't too low might not need treatment. For worse symptoms, treatment might include medicines to raise platelet count or surgery to remove the spleen. Immune thrombocytopenia (ITP) - Symptoms and causes - Mayo Clinic
~What is Tavalisse?~
TAVALISSE is a prescription medication used to treat adults with low platelet counts due to chronic immune thrombocytopenia (ITP) when a prior treatment for ITP has not worked well enough. It is not known if TAVALISSE is safe and effective in children.
The cost for Tavalisse oral tablet 100 mg is around $15,404 for a supply of 60 tablets, depending on the pharmacy you visit. Quoted prices are for cash-paying customers and are not valid with insurance plans. This price guide is based on using the Drugs.com discount card which is accepted at most U.S. pharmacies.
Tavalisse Prices, Coupons, Copay & Patient Assistance - Drugs.com
TAVALISSE IS AN ORAL MEDICATION TAKEN TWICE DAILY WITH OR WITHOUT FOOD¹
A 12-week evaluation period is recommended
60 tablets = 1 month supply, evaluation period = 3 months, Cost for 3 months = $46,212 Cash, assuming cheaper through wholesale, insurance, discount cards, etc.
Dosing TAVALISSE® (fostamatinib disodium hexahydrate) tablets (tavalissehcp.com)
~Addressable Market~
“Our findings suggest that nearly 20,000 children and adults are newly diagnosed with ITP each year in the US, substantially higher than previously reported. Among patients requiring formal medical care, the economic burden during the first 12 months following diagnosis is high, with estimated US expenditures totaling over $400 million.”
Primary immune thrombocytopenia in US clinical practice: incidence and healthcare burden in first 12 months following diagnosis - PubMed (nih.gov)
The estimated prevalence of ITP in the United States is 9.5 per 100,000 people, with a global prevalence of over 200,000 people at any given time [1].
Immune thrombocytopenia. [ Oct; 2022 ]. 2022. https://rarediseases.org/rare-diseases/immune-thrombocytopenia
~Author Calculations/Estimates~
ITP estimated cases based on measured statistics 31,635 cases a year in the US and 770,355 cases globally each year.
~Rezlidhia – R Acute Myeloid Leukemia, FDA Approved December, 22, 2022~
~What is Relapsed or Refractory Acute Myeloid Leukemia?~
Relapsed, or recurrent, acute myeloid leukemia (AML) means the leukemia has come back after treatment and remission.
Refractory AML means the leukemia did not respond to treatment. Complete remission has not been reached because the chemotherapy drugs did not kill enough leukemia cells.
Both relapsed and refractory AML need more treatment to reach complete remission.
Your healthcare team will suggest treatments based on your needs and work with you to develop a treatment plan. Some factors considered for your treatment include:
your age
your health
how long the leukemia was in remission
treatments you had before
where the leukemia comes back
Treatment options usually include chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant if possible. Targeted therapy may also be used.
Treatments for relapsed or refractory acute myeloid leukemia Canadian Cancer Society
~What is IDH1?~
Somatic mutations in isocitrate dehydrogenase (IDH) genes occur frequently in adult Acute myeloid leukemia (AML) and less commonly in pediatric AML… Enhanced genomic and epigenomic profiling of acute myeloid leukemia (AML) has led to identification of recurrent mutations that are prognostic and are candidates for targeted therapy. Somatic mutations in isocitrate dehydrogenase (IDH) genes, IDH1 and IDH2, occur in ∼6% to 16% and ∼8% to 19% of adult patients with AML, respectively.^1-5 In pediatric AML, IDH mutations are rare, occurring in <4% of patients.^6-11
Characteristics and prognostic impact of IDH mutations in AML: a COG, SWOG, and ECOG analysis Blood Advances American Society of Hematology (ashpublications.org)
~What is Rezlidhia?~
REZLIDHIA is a prescription medicine used to treat adults with acute myeloid leukemia (AML) with an isocitrate dehydrogenase-1 (IDH1) mutation when the disease has come back or has not improved after previous treatment(s).
Targeted Treatment REZLIDHIA® (olutasidenib) capsules
The cost for Rezlidhia oral capsule 150 mg is around $17,468 for a supply of 30 capsules, depending on the pharmacy you visit. Quoted prices are for cash-paying customers and are not valid with insurance plans. This price guide is based on using the Drugs.com discount card which is accepted at most U.S. pharmacies.
Rezlidhia Prices, Coupons, Copay & Patient Assistance - Drugs.com%20is%20a%20member,on%20the%20pharmacy%20you%20visit.)
~Addressable Market~
The annual incidence of new cases in both men and women is approximately 4.3 per 100,000 population, totaling over 20,000 cases per year in the United States alone.[13] The median age at the time of diagnosis is about 68, with a higher prevalence observed among non-Hispanic Whites. Furthermore, males exhibit a higher incidence compared to females, with a ratio of 5:3.
Acute Myeloid Leukemia - StatPearls - NCBI Bookshelf (nih.gov)
~Author Calculations/Estimates~
Cases of AML with IDH1 would be 11% based on the median of statistics above (6% to 16%) leaving approximately 1500 to 2000 cases a year in the US. Appling the same calculations to world population would amount to approximately 38,500 cases a year globally.
~Gavreto – Treats RET+ Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer In Adults and RET+ Thyroid Cancer in Kids and Adults, FDA Approved August 9, 2023~
For the sake of common ground, I am going to assume these types of cancers do not need to be elaborated on as we all likely have a basic understanding of what they are. The medical conditions treated by Tavalisse and Rezlidhia I felt needed a more in-depth explanation because they are not common. I will elaborate on RET+ a little later in this writing.
~What is Gavreto?~
GAVRETO is an oral once daily prescription medicine used to treat certain cancers caused by abnormal rearranged during transfection ~(RET+)~ genes in:
Adults with non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC) that has spread
Adults and children 12 years of age and older with advanced thyroid cancer or thyroid cancer that has spread who require a medicine by mouth or injection (systemic therapy) and who have received radioactive iodine and it did not work or is no longer working*
It is not known if GAVRETO is safe and effective when used to treat cancers caused by abnormal RET genes in children for the treatment of NSCLC or in children younger than 12 years of age for the treatment of thyroid cancer.
Home GAVRETO® (pralsetinib)
The cost for Gavreto oral capsule 100 mg is around $11,745 for a supply of 60 capsules, depending on the pharmacy you visit. Quoted prices are for cash-paying customers and are not valid with insurance plans. This price guide is based on using the Drugs.com discount card which is accepted at most U.S. pharmacies.
The recommended dosage for adults and children 12 and over is 400mg orally once daily. Each capsule is 100mg, which means you will take 4 capsules. Gavreto should be taken on an empty stomach, at least 1 hour before or 2 hours after a meal.
Gavreto Prices, Coupons, Copay & Patient Assistance - Drugs.com
~What is Rearranged During Transfection Positive (RET+)?~
RET-positive cancer is caused by a mutation or abnormal re-arrangement of the RET gene. It occurs most commonly in lung cancer and several types of inherited and sporadic thyroid cancers. RET alterations also occur in an estimated 1-2% of multiple other cancers, including ovarian, pancreatic, salivary, breast, and colorectal cancers.
RETpositive Empowering Patients and Driving Research
Rearranged during transfection (RET) rearrangements were first identified as oncogenic drivers in NSCLC in 2012. The proportion of patients with NSCLC who have RET rearrangements (ie, fusion-positive disease) is approximately 1%-2%.
RET Fusion-Positive Non-small Cell Lung Cancer: The Evolving Treatment Landscape The Oncologist Oxford Academic (oup.com)
RET alterations occur most commonly in lung cancer (non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC)) and the number of new cases diagnosed each year is considerable, accounting for approximately 37,500 [IG1] cases worldwide and 4,000 cases in the US (2% of NSCLC) (2,3). RET alterations are also common in several types of inherited and sporadic thyroid cancers and can occur in other types of cancers like ovarian, breast, pancreatic, and colorectal cancers, among others (4-8) adding >110,000 cases yearly worldwide (9).
What is RET Positive Lung Cancer? - The Happy Lungs Project
(2) Although medullary thyroid carcinoma represents 5-10% of all thyroid cancers, activating RET gene abnormalities occur in over 90% of hereditary and approximately 40%-60% of sporadic medullary thyroid carcinoma cases.
Patients – RETpositive%20Although%20medullary%20thyroid%20carcinoma,sporadic%20medullary%20thyroid%20carcinoma%20cases.)
~Prevalence of Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer~
Most lung cancer statistics include both small cell lung cancer (SCLC) and non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC). In general, about 10% to 15% of all lung cancers are SCLC, and about 80% to 85% are NSCLC.
Lung cancer (both small cell and non-small cell) is the second most common cancer in both men and women in the United States (not counting skin cancer). In men, prostate cancer is more common, while breast cancer is more common in women.
The American Cancer Society’s estimates for lung cancer in the US for 2024 are:
About 234,580 new cases of lung cancer (116,310 in men and 118,270 in women)
About 125,070 deaths from lung cancer (65,790 in men and 59,280 in women)
Lung Cancer Statistics How Common is Lung Cancer? American Cancer Society
Worldwide, an estimated 2,206,771 people were diagnosed with lung cancer in 2020. These statistics include both small cell lung cancer and NSCLC.
Lung Cancer - Non-Small Cell: Statistics Cancer.Net
~Author Calculations/Estimates~
Approximately 187,664 cases of NSCLC in the US based on an 80% factor.
Approximately 1,765,416 cases of NSCLC worldwide based on an 80% factor.
~Prevalence of Thyroid Cancer~
Rate of New Cases and Deaths per 100,000: The rate of new cases of thyroid cancer was 13.5 per 100,000 men and women per year. The death rate was 0.5 per 100,000 men and women per year. These rates are age-adjusted and based on 2017–2021 cases and 2018–2022 deaths.
Lifetime Risk of Developing Cancer: Approximately 1.2 percent of men and women will be diagnosed with thyroid cancer at some point during their lifetime, based on 2017–2019 data. Lifetime risk based on data through 2022 will available soon.
Prevalence of This Cancer: In 2021, there were an estimated 979,295 people living with thyroid cancer in the United States.
Thyroid Cancer — Cancer Stat Facts
About 44,020 new cases of thyroid cancer (12,500 in men and 31,520 in women)
About 2,170 deaths from thyroid cancer (990 in men and 1,180 in women)
Thyroid cancer is often diagnosed at a younger age than most other adult cancers. The average age when a person is diagnosed with thyroid cancer is 51.
This cancer is about 3 times more common in women than in men. It is about 40% to 50% less common in Black people than in any other racial or ethnic group.
Key Statistics for Thyroid Cancer American Cancer Society)
Addressable Market
Given Gavreto’s dual treatment capacity, the total amount of potential patients with NSCLC with RET+ indications would be approximately 2,800 cases in the US and approximately 26,500 cases worldwide each year using a factor of 1.5% of total NSCLC cases. The total amount of treatable cases for Thyroid Cancer would be approximately 650 in the US and 16,500 cases worldwide respectively each year applying the same 1.5% RET+ percentage rate. DOUBLE CHECK MATH…
~Rigel Pharmaceuticals Pipeline~
~IRAK/4 – Clinical Trials~
Rigel’s investigational candidate, R289, is an oral, potent and selective inhibitor of interleukin receptor-associated kinases 1 and 4 (IRAK1/4).
Toll like receptors (TLRs) and the interleukin 1 receptor family (IL-1Rs) play a critical role in the innate immune response and dysregulation of these pathways can lead to a variety of inflammatory conditions such as psoriasis, rheumatoid arthritis, and inflammatory bowel disease. Chronic stimulation of both receptor systems has also been implicated in causing a pro-inflammatory bone marrow environment leading to persistent cytopenias in lower-risk myelodysplastic syndrome (LR-MDS) patients1.
R835 is a selective dual inhibitor of IRAK1/4 that blocks TLR4 and IL-1R-dependent systemic cytokine release. In preclinical studies, R835 demonstrated activity in multiple animal models of inflammatory disease2,3 and showed that dual inhibition of IRAK1 and IRAK4 provided more complete suppression of inflammatory cytokines when compared to an IRAK4-selective inhibitor4.
Development of R289:
In a Phase 1 clinical trial, R835 was well tolerated and inhibited LPS-induced inflammatory cytokine production in healthy volunteers, demonstrating proof-of-mechanism.5 Phase 1 clinical studies of R289 (an oral prodrug that is rapidly converted to R835 in the gut) are also complete.
A Phase 1b open-label, multicenter trial of R289 in patients with relapsed/refractory lower-risk MDS is currently enrolling (NCT05308264). The primary endpoint for this trial is safety with key secondary endpoints including preliminary efficacy and evaluation of pharmacokinetic properties.
~Bemcentinib – Bergenbio Partnership~
In June 2011, Rigel entered into an exclusive, worldwide research, development and commercialization agreement with BerGenBio for its investigational AXL receptor tyrosine kinase (AXL) inhibitor, R428 (now referred to as bemcentinib).
Bemcentinib is a potent, selective and orally bioavailable AXL inhibitor and the furthest along in clinical trials. In preclinical studies, bemcentinib was shown to have an effect as a single agent therapeutic in the prevention and reversal of acquired resistance to standard of care cytotoxics and targeted therapies and may also slow or prevent tumor metastasis.
Rigel received an upfront payment and is eligible for milestone payments and potential sublicensing revenue, as well as tiered royalty payments on any future net sales of products emerging from the collaboration.
~R552 Systemic – Eli Lilly Partnership~
Rigel’s investigational candidates are oral, potent and selective inhibitors of receptor-interacting serine/threonine-protein kinase 1 (RIPK1).
RIPK1 is a critical signaling protein implicated in a broad range of key inflammatory cellular processes including necroptosis, a type of regulated cell death, and cytokine production. In necroptosis, cells rupture leading to the dispersion of cell contents, which can trigger an immune response and enhance inflammation. RIPK1 inhibition has therapeutic potential in treating autoimmune, inflammatory, and neurodegenerative disorders.
Rigel’s RIPK1 inhibitor program includes R552, a systemic molecule being developed for the treatment of autoimmune and inflammatory disorders, and brain penetrating RIPK1 inhibitors for central nervous system (CNS) diseases. In preclinical studies, R552 demonstrated prevention of joint and skin inflammation in a RIPK1-mediated murine model of inflammation and tissue damage.
Development of R552:
In Q2 2023, the initial Phase 2a trial (NCT05848258) in moderately to severely active rheumatoid arthritis (RA) was initiated by partner Eli Lilly.
Development CNS-penetrating RIPK1 inhibitors:
Currently in preclinical studies.
~Milademetan – Daiichi Sankyo Partnership~
Rigel has a long-standing collaboration with Daiichi-Sankyo for developing murine double minute 2 (MDM2) protein inhibitors in cancer, which were discovered in Rigel’s laboratories.
Preliminary safety and efficacy data from an early Phase 1 study of milademetan (formerly DS-3032), an oral selective MDM2 inhibitor, in hematological malignancies suggests that it may be a promising potential treatment for oncology indications.
Rigel received an upfront payment and is eligible for milestone payments, as well as tiered royalty payments on any future net sales of any products emerging from the collaboration.
~Rxxx (CNS Penetrant) – Eli Lilly Partnership~
Rigel’s investigational candidates are oral, potent and selective inhibitors of receptor-interacting serine/threonine-protein kinase 1 (RIPK1).
RIPK1 is a critical signaling protein implicated in a broad range of key inflammatory cellular processes including necroptosis, a type of regulated cell death, and cytokine production. In necroptosis, cells rupture leading to the dispersion of cell contents, which can trigger an immune response and enhance inflammation. RIPK1 inhibition has therapeutic potential in treating autoimmune, inflammatory, and neurodegenerative disorders.
Rigel’s RIPK1 inhibitor program includes R552, a systemic molecule being developed for the treatment of autoimmune and inflammatory disorders, and brain penetrating RIPK1 inhibitors for central nervous system (CNS) diseases. In preclinical studies, R552 demonstrated prevention of joint and skin inflammation in a RIPK1-mediated murine model of inflammation and tissue damage.
Development of R552:
In Q2 2023, the initial Phase 2a trial (NCT05848258) in moderately to severely active rheumatoid arthritis (RA) was initiated by partner Eli Lilly.
Development CNS-penetrating RIPK1 inhibitors:
Currently in preclinical studies. Pipeline :: Rigel Pharmaceuticals, Inc. (RIGL)
~Summary and Prediction~
The current share price of sub $1 does not feel justified. I would anticipate financial breakeven by the end of 2024 or potentially in Q1 or Q2 of 2025. The robust pipeline, progress, and expected revenue growth are enough to justify a much higher valuation. The debt load is manageable, but the potential for S is concerning. I believe that the S is not necessary and revenue growth and progress should speak for itself. I am not as bullish as the analysts at HC Wainright for a $15 PT, but the valuation should be at least 3x to 5x from the current value. This thesis does not highlight the patents surrounding their drugs either which some extend into 2035 and beyond. Perhaps what Wall Street is discounting is the fact that most of the drugs are very niche. However, the currently available drugs have an addressable market, albeit less universal than some, but you should value it in the sense of multiple facets (a 1000 headed snake is the phrase I wanted to use). I believe the company should be valued with specialty drugs in mind which would command a higher PE ratio. At the current day and time of writing, the value should be at least $1.50 to $1.75 ~at a minimum~ with a 12 month price target of $3 to $5+. I will be looking for continued revenue growth in each quarter this year and realization of revenue from Gavreto in Q2 or Q3 this year. The partnerships should not be discounted either and the current share price if it lingers here perhaps may attract a merger or acquisition. I initially began the research thinking that perhaps the drugs were too niche, but given the multiple drugs they are working with, I believe their revenue sources will continue to grow if you do not focus on one particular drug as the main performer. With the most recent inflation report being cooler than expected, I would suspect larger funds and institutions will be circling back to riskier assets.

Since new rulebooks dropped, it was only a matter of time before I went with a magnifying glass over these! Since I previously covered these errors in my larger list a couple years ago (Compilation of every erromistake/contradiction/etc., that I can find in the 'current' rulebooks. ), I will also compare and see what was fixed (in strikethrough), what is still there, and what is new (in bold). If there is an old error I missed the first time, there will be a * in front of it.
Base Game's 5-6 Player:

• Format error: At the bottom of page 4, is a heading titled "Starting settlements and resources". However this isn't discussed until the start of page 6. Heading needs to be moved closer to its topic.
• *Image error: Page 2. You need to squint to see it, but Illustration B is showing THREE 12 Tokens! Gone/covered now
• Image error: Page 2 Page 4. You need to squint to see it, but the 2nd image STILL has Frame Extension pieces ('3-3' and '5-5') in the wrong spots. The extra 3:1 and 2:1 Wool ports are accidently swapped. Pretty egregious when the first image of Page 4 (showing the "Starting Set-Up for new 5-6 Players") has the Frame Extensions in the correct spots. Just a copy-past job from the previous version.

5-6 Seafarers

• *Format error: Page 3: Just before the Wonder Cards is the heading titled "Scenarios". However this isn't discussed until the start of the next page, 4. Heading needs to be move to the top of the next page.
• Format error: The images for the Wonder Cards were shifted up on page 3. However, the big blue box on page 4 was NOT shifted up. So the top edges of the Wonder Cards are now aligned with the text "The scenario diagram provides the board set-up". So if you take a scissor and cut out these cards (as intended), you will cut this sentence in half, along the horizontal.
• *Format error: Page 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 18, 20, 22: "Terrain & Tokens" at the is not bolded. It now is Bolded.
• Missing Robber: Why is there no Robber on the maps for Scenarios 2, 3, 4, and 8? All fixed! They even added the Pirate for Scenario 1 (which I missed 3 years ago). They also have the Robber on a 12-Hills now. Interesting change? Or new error?

1. For Scenario 2, regular Seafarers says to put the Robber on the 12 Token. However, in the extension, there are two to choose from (12-Fields and 12-Pasture). Which one? Apparently, the 2-Pasture hex
2. For Scenario 3, regular Seafarers says to put the Robber on the 12 Token. However, in the extension, the Desert is reintroduced. So should the Robber go there instead? Or 12-Mountain/12-Hills hex? Robber is on the Desert.
3. For Scenario 4 and 8, I suppose it doesn't matter which Desert the Robber starts on. Just odd there is no marker here, but there IS a Robber marked for Scenario 5. Inconsistent.

• Image error: Page 11 (Fog Islands map). The 3-Mountain hex looks weird. The mountains is misaligned with the hex, the internal image is rotated 30 degrees (I think) Twisted back into place!
• Image error: Page 13 (Through the Desert map). The instructions on page 12 indicate 11 Harbors are used, but the map only shows 10. Looking at the 4th Edition map, and Catan Universe's version today, the Harbor by the 12-Pasture somehow got dropped.
• Image error: Page 13 (Through the Desert map). The 'foreign area' are missing red outlines, like the 3-4 player version has. More liberties will need to be taken by the players, if they want to make a variable map.
• *Format error: Page 16: Harbors at the top isn't bolded.
• Incorrect component count or Image error: Page 16 or 17 (Cloth for Catan). The first page says there are 11 Harbors (like many other scenarios). However, the map on the other page shows 12 Harbors. A new harbor was added by the 8-Wheat hex, onto the lower-right frame. I am unsure which page is incorrect, since previous Editions didn't have a harbor there, but the current Extension includes an extra 2:1 Wool (as normal), and a 6th 3:1 port (for a total of 12 Harbors in Seafarers).
• *Typo: Page 18: The # 26, for describing how many Sea hexes, accidently has a bunch of dots in between 2 and 6
• Image Error: A Robber is erroneously added to the middle desert island. THERE IS NO ROBBER FOR THIS SCENARIO.
• Incorrect component count: Page 22. The count for the # tokens are off for multiple reasons:

1. Adding up all the tokens equals 40, when the total below says 39. Since there will be 39 resource producing hexes, there is an extra # token in the count above.
2. However, the Base Game's 5-6 extension only has 28 tokens, while Seafarers adds 10 more (total 38). This implies a # token should be taken from the Base Game, so the rulebook should make that clear
3. Related to that, it says there should be 5 copies of the 5-9 tokens. This is impossible, since Base 5-6 + SF should have 3 copies of 2 and 12, 4 of everything else. Again, implying more tokens from the Base Game need to be taken, but it never states this.

5-6 Cities & Knights: No mistakes! It is STILL clean!!!
5-6 Traders & Barbarians

• Image errors?: Page 3+4. The frame setup is completely different than normal. The frame extension pieces are also in different positions. Instead of the usual setup (from the top, clockwise):

1. '6-1'>'1-2'>'2-2'>'2-3'>'3-3'>'3-4'>'4-5'>'5-5'>'5-6'>'6-6'>; page 3 instead displays (from top-left, clockwise):
2. '6-1'>'2-2'>'1-2'>'3-3'>'3-4'>'2-3'>'6-6'>'4-5'>'5-5'>'5-6'>. If this is supposed to be intentional, the rulebook should either state this (or be more specific), or make the image bigger, since I had to squint to see the different layout.
3. Also, if the different frame setup is intentional, why not show T&B's version of the '5-6' frame piece (with the missing coast)?

• Formatting error: Top of Page 4. The line for the 'Additional Components' looks... off. Not lined up with the rest of the text below.
• Component List mistake: Page 5, the Castle Hex is incorrectly labeled as a Oasis hex!
• Image error?: Page 5+6. While the frame mostly follows the 'new' layout in pages 3+4, there is now a 2nd '4-5' frame, replacing the '2-3' frame in the bottom-right corner. While technically possible, since T&B does have its own version of '4-5' (with missing coastline), the image does not reflect the artwork, copying the base game's '4-5' piece twice. Again, the rulebook make no written mention of the new frame order.
• Image error?: Page 9 Page 10: While the rulebook finally gives some instruction regarding the frame, curious why the image doesn't show T&B's version of the '5-6' frame piece (with the missing coast)?
• Image errocontradiction: Page 10 Page 9. The instructions say the regular Quarry and Glassworks hexes may not have Settlements built on the corners that only border the frame (ocean), only the 4 intersections that border other hexes (the new Quarry and Glassworks from T&B's extension don't have this restriction). However, the image is showing possible Settlement locations on all 6 corners, for both the new and old trade hexes. Either the image is mistaken, or the instructions are.
• Contradiction/Inconsistency: Page 9 states that Player 2 may NOT use Gold Coins to purchases resources. This is in contrast with previous scenarios, which state you can. In addition, later in the rulebook, where the various Player 1/Player 2 actions are summarized, Page 12 says Player 2 CAN use Gold Coins to buy resources!
• Component List mistake: Page 11 Page 10, Card Deck Manifest. The total count for the 5th scenario's Development cards should say 12, not 26; and the total count for the Baggage Train cards should say 10, NOT 21. These incorrect totals are copied from regular T&B.

5-6 Explorers & Pirates

• *Image error: The image showing the "Catan 5-6 Player Extension Pieces" sorting tile is showing resource cards with 4th Edition graphics! (I doubt the real Sorting Tile has this error. I hope not)
• Missing words?: Page 2,3,4,5. The second sentence of each page says "The two hexes in the illustration marked 'Green Back' and 'Orange Back' must be taken...". Shouldn't it instead say "The two sets of hexes..."? It does now :)
• Component List mistake: Page 2. The hexes shown for the Orange Sun side are accidently copied over from the Green Moon side. To further explain:

1. The terrain hexes from regular E&P should show 2 Fields hexes, and 1 of everything else. Instead its showing 2 Mountain hexes (which is only correct for the Green Moon side)
2. The terrain hexes from E&P's extension should be Mountain-Pasture-Hills. Instead its showing Mountain-Forest-Fields (again, only correct for the Green Moon side)

• Missing rule?: Page 6. The Paired Players summary chart doesn't mention using Gold Coins to buy resources, for neither Player 1 or 2. I suppose you can infer both can use Gold Coins, I only bring this up since T&B bothers to mention Gold Coins.

So to summarize:

1. Base Game Extension: Originally 2 errors, 1 was fixed, 1 was added
2. Seafarers Extensions: Originally 12 errors. 9 were fixed, 2 were added
3. C&K Extension: Never had errors, none were added :)
4. T&B Extension: Originally 9 errors. 1 was fixed, and 1 was added >:(
5. E&P Extension: Originally 3 errors. 1 was fixed, 1 was added.

In the end, I'm a little disappointed. The only extension rulebook that saw any real improvement was SF. I wasn't planning on buying any Extensions until the rules were updated with the new Paired Players system. But... maybe I'll just have to wait for the 6th Edition, in 2030. :(
I shouldn't be so hard on them, as I missed several errors myself the first time around. Even some of my own errors in my original list (fixed now). But I'm just some bored shmuck doing this in my free time. I'd expect more from a corporation.

I am an avid Urban explorer, and have been to many, many places. Abandoned Kmarts, Schools, Malls and ESPECIALLY Police stations. You can find interesting stuff there if you look hard enough.
All the good shit is in the evidence and interview room. By chance you could find a phone, a knife and maybe even weed.
Look everywhere but BE CAREFUL, you could potentially set off security alarms.
Take at least 3 people with you just to be safe.
I’ll tell you something that happened around 11 years ago.
It was June, and the nights were hot and humid, most people were inside so we took the opportunity to explore somewhere riskier, as suggested by a friend.
F: “You think we can go somewhere new? I’m getting sick of the orthodox, boring stuff.
Me: “Sure, Where do you think we should go?”
F: “Somewhere risky, like an old abandoned police station”
Me: “Doesn’t sound too bad actually..”
Everyone agreed and so we went.
It didn’t seem to be guarded, but the power was still on.
We couldn’t back down now. We walked 10 miles to get there.
The interior felt dusty, and stunk of rotten wood. You could see that time has taken its toll; Exposed insulation from the ceiling collapsing. The odd few rat droppings and doors taken off their hinges.
Of course, graffiti was there, lots of it.
Everywhere was surprisingly pristine, and we walked In every room.
The custody cells were clean.
One thing to consider is that the place abandoned a good few years. (Around 2005)
My friend brought up;
“Hey, you wanna go into the kitchen? Wonder if there’s mold building up inside? I dare you to touch it!”
Me, getting startled by my friend’s eccentric voice abruptly cutting the silence, replied;
“Jesus, dude! The kitchen?”
F: “Yeah”
Me: “Sure, Why not?”
The kitchen was slightly dusty, and very empty, apart from a few utensils inside the sink.
From our prior experiences, we looked harder for random stuff. You never know what you can find in places like this.
Looking in the most obvious places first, I opened A drawer that was near a blender, its jug shattered into lots of pieces on the floor.
It was hard to get open, the drawer clearly sticky from the years it has been untouched, there were things inside as they rattled around, sounded like pens, pins and something more plastic.
With one big pull, it opened, and I saw paperclips, lots of pens, a few batteries and a dusty cassette tape.
We never found something like that before, my friend being an audiophile, was curious, so I wiped it.
“85102”, was written on the peeling off label.
It was getting extremely late at this point, so we walked home.
First thing we did, was get the cassette decl out, and play it.
tape starts
A: “Here’s a bag, for your uhhh… problems…”
B: “Thank you. sighs it doesn’t seem to be getting any better. Everything you tried isn’t working”
A male and a female voice spoke, age related damage distorting the audio
A: “I don’t know what to say, at all. Is there anything that will work, EVER? I tried morphine, fetanyl, hydromorphone and even carfetanil, every opioid I can think of. And still, you say your body won’t stop hurting, maybe you have bone cancer?”
B: “It doesn’t help. It never helps. You only get me more hooked. And no, I don’t have bone cancer.”
A: “What do YOU think is the best option? You’re obviously in a lot of pain….. the only option sounds like suicide. It will get rid of the pain. Your body can’t move without you screaming. It’s practically eating you alive.”
B: “laughs oh you’re seriously going to say that. After all that, the tank experiment, you tried the femur peeling TO GET RID OF THE PAIN, YOU DID THINK THE PAIN WAS COMING FROM THERE. HOW DID YOU THINK THAT WAS GOING TO HELP, I WAS DRUGGED UP, you’re going to suggest I DIE, Just because you can’t fix this. You’re horrible”
A: “It’s the best option, the pain will leave you”
B:”yeah? Here’s some truth, it can never leave me. I’ve been dealing with this for FIFTEEN FUCKING YEARS! the audio distorts from the sudden yell
B appears to have snapped, and says something before getting cut off
B:You want to do the assisted suicide, FINE. BUT IT WOULD NOT WORK
B: “I AM ALREADY DE-“
the cassette cuts to some jazz music for the rest of side A
Click
F: “What the actual…… holy shit.”
I didn’t have the words to speak…. It was simply the most unnerving thing I’ve heard.
Everything was uncanny about it.
Despite the previous audio shaking us up pretty badly, I went to go and turn the tape over to side B. A sharp, intense feeling of pain surged through my head, my lungs losing their oxygen slowly. Fell on the floor, tried to get up by getting on the couch and did my best not to pass out and die as breathing was getting difficult now. I COULD NOT BREATHE.
My head was pounding , my right eye felt like a sharp wooden stick piercing my eyeball. I couldn’t scream. I kept coughing. I wheezed. And then everything went black .
Who knows how long later, I got up, the pain subsided, and the environment was extremely unfamiliar. There was just this river, an endless river, length and width, with a dark navy blue sky.
All that could be heard was the river.
I must drink, I need food. Was the impulse, there was nothing.
I tried to drink the river water, but I vomited this black gel. It felt like jelly, it smelled like jelly.
Had to continue on walking.
Around half a mile through, a whirlpool suddenly formed and sucked me down into a vantablack void.
Everything felt slow, and the impact of landing on a SHARP big rock, broke a rib and punctured one of my lungs.
Even more gel came up.
My lungs filled up with gel, even more came out, it was pouring as it hit the ground.
Then the atmosphere changed, the sound changed, to something familiar.
The vantablack changed into a beautiful jungle, everything was too real
the smell of the waterfall and plants.
The feel of the grass
I vomited again, again and again.
I was starting to choke. It wasn’t runny enough to swallow.
Couldn’t take any chances and ran to the white door that was open, coughing wildly, the “blood” stickying the soft cotton of my beige hoodie.
The door opened, it felt light. It WAS the embodiment of light.
And I entered it.
Everything went white, and I woke up at home.
F: “DUDE FUCKING WAKE UP!”
My friend doesn’t think we should listen to side B.
Should we call an exorcist, a paranormal expert? Please let me know.

Figured I'd ask for advice before I give up and just sell the car broken. I recently replaced the head gasket in my sc300, after reassembly the car sounds healthy cranking but no start. The cel never lights up when the key is in the ON position, indicating that the ecu is never powering up. And the fuel pump runs constantly indicating that the fuel pumps controller has already been bypassed if that makes any difference.
I think I must have missed a power or ground wire going to the ecu but I can't for the life of me find it. Both intake grounds are on, a ground between the battery and chasis/chassis and head, 2 cables to positive terminal on battery 1 to negative. Is there a ground i missed? Maybe a separate positive wire that should be constantly supplying power to the ecu? Maybe a trigger wire for the ecu? Worst case I'd really appreciate a labeled diagram of the ecu plug, that way I could bypass power and ground signals until I make the ecu power on
Sorry if that info is hard to follow, I'd appreciate any input or direction from someone who is more comfortable with 2j's

Prologue
First
Previous / Next
Spanish Version (OG Version)
Credits to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating this universe.
And thanks to u/Signal-Chicken559 for proof-reading and the feedback, seriously, thank you.
Also available on Archive of Our Own
Note: There's a post on the Discord of this subreddit, so if you wanna discuss something about my story, that should be the place to go
\---------------------0
Memory Transcription Subject: Syra, Universal History Student at Brightspire and Member of the Human-Venlil Exchange Program
Date [standardized human date]: September 17, 2136
Maybe this "therapy" wouldn't be so bad after all. Perhaps they just wanted to make sure Daniel felt comfortable and supported during his stay here. I hoped that was the case, because otherwise, I wouldn't hesitate to bare my claws if necessary to protect him.
For now, I would let things flow naturally. But I would keep a close eye out, just in case. Daniel wasn't alone in this, I was here to look out for him.
[Time advancement: 10 minutes]
"...and that's more or less how I ended up here, details more, details less," Daniel finished recounting how he had arrived.
He seems satisfied with what Daniel has told so far. Good sign, I suppose. Although I still wonder what exactly this "therapy" is about.
At that, the "psychologist" gets up and walks to the back of the room. He takes some kind of portable whiteboard and places it in front of us. He then takes out a couple of markers and begins to draw a simple diagram.
"Well, Daniel, I think I have a general idea of who you are," he says as he scribbles on the whiteboard. "Now I'd like to explain my approach a bit in this session."
I frown slightly, intrigued. The Doctor draws a large circle in the center of the whiteboard and writes the word "Communication" inside it.
"You see, for me communication is the key to everything," he continues. "It's the medium through which we can express our needs and obtain what we need or desire."
I nod slowly, contemplating the diagram. It makes sense so far. The Doctor continues tracing more elements, listing some steps:

1. Describe observable facts
2. Emotions + Thoughts → Feelings
3. NEEDS
4. Expressed in the form of a request

Thank the stars I downloaded the new translation packages a while ago, otherwise I wouldn't be able to read this.
"The first thing is to describe the observable facts objectively," he explains while pointing to step 1. "Then, express the emotions and thoughts that arise in relation to those facts. But most importantly, identify the underlying need that those emotions and thoughts reflect."
He takes another color and draws an arrow that goes from the "Needs" circle to another where he writes "Finds the common ground with the other person."
"Once the needs are identified, we can express them in the form of a request to the other person," he says. "In this way, both parties can work together to satisfy those needs in a collaborative and empathetic way."
I nod again, beginning to understand his approach. It's... interesting, to be honest. Very different from the more authoritarian and repressive approach I experienced with my sister's case. The Doctor takes a moment to study our reactions.
"I know this may seem a bit foreign to your customs, Syra," he admits in an understanding tone. "But on Earth we have learned (or we're supposed to) that repressing or denying emotions only leads to more conflicts and suffering. It's better to express them in a healthy way and seek solutions that benefit everyone."
He turns back to the whiteboard and draws another more elaborate diagram. This time, there is a kind of circle, with elongated triangles inside, Daniel explained to me in my previous chats with him, that this was called a "compass" and was used for guidance at sea (By the stars, what's wrong with these humans? Don't they see that the sea is extremely dangerous?!). This compass seemed to be surrounded by several sectors, each with the name of an emotion: joy, sadness, fear, anger, boredom, disgust, surprise.
I look at the diagram with curiosity, it's an interesting concept, although very different from what I've learned on Venlil Prime.
The Doctor points to the central circle with the word "Communication."
"As you can see, for me everything revolves around effective communication," he continues calmly. "First, we must describe the facts objectively, without judging."
I nod slowly, following his explanation. So far it makes sense.
"Then, it is crucial to identify the emotions and thoughts that those facts generate in us. We should not repress or deny them," he continues, tracing more elements on the diagram. "Those emotions and thoughts lead us to identify an underlying need."
I frown a little when I hear that. Needs... my mind goes back to the situation with my sister. Could it be that she just needed to express herself better? No, I can't think about that now.
"Once the need is identified, we can express it as a request to the other person," the Doctor draws an arrow pointing to the words "Finds the common ground." "Thus, both parties can work together to satisfy those needs in an empathetic and collaborative way."
I open my eyes in surprise. Is he suggesting that we can simply... ask for what we need? Without fear, without reprisals. It's such a foreign idea from what I experienced... But at the same time, it makes a certain sense.
The Doctor turns towards us, studying our reactions.
"I know this approach may seem strange to you Venlil," he admits with understanding. "But on Earth we learned that repressing or denying emotions only brings more conflicts. It's better to express them in a healthy way."
I swallow hard with discomfort. It's true that on Venlil Prime we are taught to keep certain emotions under control. Especially those that could be seen as... "predatory."
"Um... Excuse me, Doctor," I interject cautiously. "I understand your point, but... What about those emotions or behaviors that are considered harmful or problematic?"
The Doctor looks at me intently before responding.
"It's a very valid question, Syra. But you see, no emotion is inherently 'good' or 'bad'," he explains patiently. "Even emotions like anger or fear have a purpose and meaning. The important thing is to learn to identify them, understand them and express them appropriately."
I frown thoughtfully. Is he suggesting that even the darkest emotions have a place? It's certainly... different from what I've been taught.
"But... What if those emotions endanger others?" I insist, unable to avoid thinking of my sister. "In my culture, certain behaviors, though emotional, are seen as a 'disease'."
A heavy silence settles in the room. I can sense Daniel's discomfort by my side, though he doesn't say a word. The Doctor remains silent for a moment, did I say something wrong?
"I understand your concern, and I'm sorry for that, Syra," he finally responds. "I understand that each culture may have its own norms and values. But at least on Earth, we have learned that pathologizing or repressing certain emotions only increases suffering."
He takes a breath before continuing.
"The important thing is to find healthy ways to express and channel those intense emotions. With support, understanding and appropriate tools, no one has to resort to harm or violence."
I ponder his words carefully. It's such a different perspective... But I can't help the doubts that assail me. If my sister had had that "support" and "understanding"... would she still be alive?
At that moment, I remember what Thomas mentioned about Daniel's "diagnosis." I glance sideways at my human companion sitting beside me, who remains silent.
"Um... Doctor, if you don't mind me asking," I begin cautiously. "What exactly does that 'diagnosis' you mentioned before mean? The 'Autism Spectrum Disorder'?"
Daniel tenses visibly by my side, as if he wants to avoid that conversation. But the Doctor simply nods calmly.
"Well it's not a bad question, Syra," he responds. "Autism Spectrum Disorder is a neurodivergent condition that primarily affects the development of social skills and communication. People on the spectrum can have difficulties interpreting social cues, maintaining eye contact or understanding figurative language."
I look at Daniel with renewed interest, trying to better understand his situation. Maybe that's why it's so hard for him to socialize...
"But that doesn't mean they are 'sick' or 'deficient' people," the Doctor is quick to clarify. "They simply have a neurodivergent processing of social information. With the right supports, they can develop fully."
My gaze softens as I observe Daniel. I feel a wave of understanding toward him. All this time he has been dealing with these challenges and yet he still strives to establish bonds and learn about my culture.
"There's no need to be alarmed. As I said, the intention is not to judge or label anyone. We simply want to understand and provide the appropriate support."
I nod slowly, feeling the tension dissipate a little. Then, the Doctor takes out a deck of cards from a small briefcase he had at his side.
"In fact, would you like to play a little game? It could help us get to know each other in a more relaxed way."
I glance sideways at Daniel, not quite sure what to expect. He shrugs indifferently, as if letting me decide. Well, why not? A game could be a more pleasant way to get through this "therapy."
"Sure, let's play," I respond, giving a slight smile and gesturing with my tail.
The Doctor nods and proceeds to explain the rules of the game called "Sussed?". It doesn't seem too complicated: basically, we have to read some cards with 3 questions and 3 answer options each, choose the one that best represents us and try to guess which answer to that question the player who asked it chose.
"Sounds good," I comment as the Doctor deals the cards to each of us. "Do you want to start?"
This was the kind of board games I liked the most.
"Sure, why not?" the Doctor replied as he takes the first card. "Let's see..."
After a few moments, he chooses the card, looks at it for another moment, and the psychologist says:
"This question says: 'If you could swap bodies with anyone for a day, who would you choose?'"
I frown thoughtfully. It's an interesting question, to be honest. Who would a human want to swap bodies with?
If I were human, who would I swap bodies with?
I glance sideways at Daniel and a mischievous idea crosses my mind. What if...? No, no, that would be too daring.
But I return to the objective, to guess who the therapist would become, and then he says the options:
"And the options are:

• A). Your ideal partner;
• B). Your idol or favorite celebrity; and
• C). Your game companion (if this option, who?)"

He paused.
"What do you say? Who do you think I would choose?"
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously and made a new gesture with my ears. My ideal partner? That option seemed too suggestive for a human like him. Or would it be too obvious? And what if he chose his idol to get to know them better? I didn't completely rule out the last option either.
"Hmm..." I murmured, scratching my chin. "I'd say... C? He'd swap with one of us for a day?"
Daniel shifted beside me, seeming just as intrigued by the question as I was. Doctor Calderón simply shook his head.
"Good theory, but no. My answer was B," he revealed calmly.
Well! It made sense, I suppose. Humans really do seem obsessed with their celebrities and public figures, Daniel told me they had many, many celebrations of the historical figures of each of their countries, so each "paw" or "whatever" of their year celebrated something or someone.
"I see," I nodded. "Interesting choice."
"Alright, I guess it's my turn now," Daniel cleared his throat through his mask. "Let's see... 'If you could travel through time, what era would you choose to visit?'"
That was a fairly typical question for a game like this, but it still made me think. What era would Daniel like to visit? So many possibilities...
The options Daniel mentioned were:

• A). The remote past;
• B). The future; and
• C). A golden age or key historical period.

What era would Daniel like to visit?
Honestly, I'm not too sure which one he might choose. Knowing his fascination with space exploration, he might choose the future to see how civilizations evolve. But he could also be interested in some golden age from his species' remote past.
Determined to guess his answer, I risk my hunch:
"Hmm, I think you'd say... option C? A golden age or key historical period?" I suggest, moving my tail inquisitively. "That's the impression I get considering your interest in history."
Daniel takes a few moments before responding with a slight nod.
"Good intuition, Syra. I chose option C, a golden age. More specifically, the European Renaissance I told you about before, don't you remember?" he reveals in a calm tone. "It was a period of great scientific and cultural advancement for my species."
I nod, pleased to have guessed right. It's interesting how Daniel seems to value the periods of intellectual and artistic progress of his civilization, despite its apparently violent background.
"Ah, yes, you told me it was a transcendental moment for humans in areas like philosophy, the arts and knowledge in general."
"Exactly. Figures like Leonardo da Vinci, Galileo, Michelangelo and so many others laid the foundations of modern science and thought. Although there were shadows too, of course."
Doctor Calderón nods and takes notes in a small notebook he has by his side. I feel curious to learn more about this "golden age" that Daniel mentions, so I decide to ask:
"If it's okay with you, could you tell me a little more about that 'Renaissance'?" I inquire, my ears slightly raised. "I'm interested in knowing what made it so important for your species."
Daniel settles into his seat, as if preparing for a more extensive explanation. I notice how his hands, make some gestures as he speaks, something I've noticed humans often do.
"Well, the Renaissance was a cultural movement that emerged in the European region during the 15th and 16th centuries, mainly in cities like Florence, Rome and Venice," he begins to explain. "After a period known as the Middle Ages, where a somewhat more rigid and dogmatic thought predominated, the Renaissance brought a resurgence of interest in the classical ideals of ancient Greece and Rome."
I nod, trying to follow his line of thought. Humans seem to have a special fascination with those ancient cultures from their past.
"Renaissance artists and thinkers promoted a more humanistic and rational approach," Daniel continues. "Figures like Leonardo da Vinci embodied the idea of the 'Renaissance man', one who sought knowledge in various areas: art, science, engineering, philosophy, and blah, blah, blah."
"Wow, that sounds really interesting," I comment sincerely. "Could you give me some more concrete examples of the achievements of that period?"
Daniel nods and proceeds to mention some Renaissance milestones: Da Vinci's advances in anatomy and his studies on the human body, the astronomical discoveries of Galileo Galilei, artworks like the Sistine Chapel and Michelangelo's David, and the rediscovery of his species' literary classics.
"In summary, it was an era of great creative and intellectual effervescence," Daniel concludes. "Though of course there was still a long way to go."
I nod, fascinated by Daniel's description. It's admirable how his species managed to propel itself forward in those key periods, despite the difficulties and limitations they faced back then. I can't help but wonder if the Venlil will ever experience a similar awakening, at least, of thought...
At that moment, I remember we're playing "Sussed?", grab one of the cards and choose one of its questions, taking advantage of Daniel's enthusiasm for history and culture.
"Alright, my turn," I announce, taking a new card. "If you could choose one supernatural ability, what would it be?' And the options are:

• A). Flying,
• B). Mind reading or
• C). Time travel."

I pause, observing Daniel and Doctor Calderón's reactions. This question certainly lets the imagination fly.
"What do you say? What do you think I would choose?"
Now that I think about it, what would I choose?
I would definitely choose to be able to fly.
The idea of soaring through the skies with total freedom seems incredibly appealing to me. I imagine how exciting it would be to explore Venlil Prime's landscapes from the heights, without restrictions.
Daniel remains silent for a few moments, as if carefully analyzing the options. I can imagine the gears turning inside that peculiar human head of his. Finally, he responds:
"Time travel."
Time travel? I didn't expect that. I suppose it makes sense coming from a being so fascinated by the vast universe and its unsolved mysteries.
"Ohhh, interesting choice," I comment with curiosity. "May I ask why you think I would choose that ability?"
Daniel shrugs and responds in a casual tone:
"Well, I think time travel would open up infinite possibilities for knowledge and adventure," he explains. "Imagine being able to witness historical events firsthand or catch a glimpse of the future to guide us better. It would be amazing."
I nod slowly, surprised by his reasoning. Humans certainly have an overflowing imagination.
"Woah, I hadn't seen it that way," I admit. "Although it could also be risky, don't you think? Messing with the past or knowing too much about the future."
Daniel laughs through his mask, a metallic and distorted sound.
"Good point. I guess we'd have to be really careful with that," he concedes.
"Although it would just be a small glimpse, nothing major like changing history. What do you think, Dr. Calderón? What ability do you think Syra would choose?"
Dr. Calderón takes a moment to think about it.
"Hmm, I think you would choose to read minds," he finally responds. "It would be very useful for better understanding people in general."
My ears twitch strangely at his response.
"Wouldn't that be an invasion of privacy?"
"It depends on how the power works, I would set certain limits so it only activates in specific situations or places, for example."
I guess that makes sense, but I'm still not sure I'd want to read minds in general, knowing what people really think of you all the time doesn't seem like the best idea.
Anyway, it's time to reveal the answer I chose.
"Well, you're wrong, because I would choose to fly."
"But why?" Daniel asks me.
"Well, the idea of flying seems interesting to me, being able to move at full speed without ground traffic or gravity's obstacles seems appealing."
"That's an interesting answer," Calderón responds.
I guess I should take it well that he says it's an interesting answer.
"Alright, my turn again," I announced, taking a new card. "If you could have a supernatural ability, which would it be: flying, teleporting or mind control?"
And so we continued playing successively, for a good while.
[Time advancement: 50 minutes]
Dr. Calderón collects the game cards and carefully puts them away in his briefcase. Then, he turns towards us with a friendly smile.
"Well, I think that's it for today," he announces in a calm voice. "How was it? I hope it was a constructive experience and helped you get to know each other a little better."
I nod slowly, feeling a mix of emotions. On one hand, this "therapy" has been extremely revealing about how humans think. But on the other, I can't help but still feel some apprehension.
"It was... interesting, no doubt," I respond frankly. "I admit that some of your ideas seem quite foreign to what I'm used to. But I also recognize that it makes sense, at least from your perspective."
The Doctor nods in understanding.
"It's normal for them to seem strange at first, Syra," he says patiently. "Cultural differences run deep. But that doesn't mean they're incompatible, right? It simply requires effort from both sides to find common ground."
I ponder his words, turning to look at Daniel. He remains silent, but I notice how he watches me through the mask, as if evaluating my reaction. I can almost imagine the gears turning inside his head... peculiar, but endearing in a way.
"You're right," I finally admit. "It's just a matter of continuing to learn and understand. And for that, both sides have to keep an open mind."
I smile slightly and, in an impulsive gesture, bring my tail towards Daniel, gently coiling it around his arm. He tenses briefly but doesn't pull away.
"Don't worry," I tell him softly. "We'll get to understanding each other, you'll see."
Daniel nods stiffly, saying nothing. I can imagine his discomfort, but I hope that in time he'll understand that he doesn't have to be ashamed of his "peculiarity." At least, not with me.
At that moment, Dr. Calderón stands up from his seat.
"Well, I think that concludes today's session," he announces in an affable tone. "You can return to your rest area. And please, don't hesitate to request me if you need anything."
We nod and stand up to leave the therapy room. Once in the hallway, I give Daniel a friendly tail gesture.
We walk back to our little "suite", already familiar to us after the therapy session with Dr. Calderón. An awkward silence hangs between Daniel and me as we make our way through the station's hallways.
I feel relieved that therapy didn't turn out as terrifying as I initially feared. But at the same time, I can't help but dwell on some of the things the Doctor said. That about "letting emotions flow" and not repressing them... It's so alien to what I've experienced.
I glance sideways at Daniel, with his mask and that characteristically rigid body language. I wonder what he's thinking about it all. Does he feel comfortable with that idea of emotional and social "openness"? From what I could tell, he seems somewhat reluctant, although I suppose it's natural given his... peculiarity.
I shake my head, brushing those thoughts aside. I shouldn't judge so harshly. I'm just seeing things from my limited perspective. Maybe for humans that "openness" works better. Or maybe not. I still have a lot to learn, at least about them.
We finally reach our little "suite" and go inside. It's a cozy space, with a common living room and our two individual bedrooms on either side as always. Nothing luxurious, but at least it's private and comfortable.
I plop down heavily on the couch, letting out a slight sigh. Daniel sits at the other end, keeping his distance as usual.
"So... what do you think about all this?" I ask cautiously, moving my ears in his direction.
He shrugs, his body language denoting some discomfort.
"I don't know what to think, really," he responds frankly. "It's all so... different from what I'm used to."
I nod, fully understanding that feeling. It's like we're both exploring completely uncharted territory.
"Yeah, I get it. It's very foreign to me too," I admit. "But... do you think it could have some value? You know, that whole 'expressing emotions' thing and all that."
Daniel remains silent for a moment, as if meditating on his answer. I can almost picture the gears turning inside his human head.
"Maybe..." he finally mutters. "Although I don't know if I'm ready for something like that. It's... complicated for me, I've had therapies before, but they never really worked out, it makes me uncomfortable because it's more of a routine than anything else, a routine I thought I'd at least get a break from here, but it wasn't the case, although it makes sense, they have a neurodivergent among the program members, so I guess they wanted to make sure I'd behave."
My ears droop slightly as I sense his discomfort. I don't want to push him too much, especially on topics that seem sensitive to him.
"Hey, it's okay," I say in a softer tone. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. We'll go at your own pace, alright?"
He nods stiffly, though I notice his shoulders relaxing a little. I'm glad I can convey some reassurance.
If someone had told me I'd be reassuring a predator about his own discomfort by being so close a few months ago, I would have laughed in their faces and told them they were crazy, but here I am, telling him everything will be okay.
After a few moments of awkward silence, I decide to break the ice again.
"Hey, Daniel..." I begin slowly. "Can I ask you a question about what the Doctor said?"
He nods stiffly, barely a slight movement of his masked head.
"Sure, what do you want to know?"
I hesitate for a moment, not quite sure how to approach this without seeming intrusive.
"Well, he mentioned something about that 'diagnosis' of yours...a disorder, I think he said. Could you explain a bit more about that?" I ask cautiously. "O-only if you're comfortable with it, of course."
Daniel tenses up even more, I can almost feel his discomfort radiating from his body language. For a moment I fear I've crossed a line, but then he responds in a muted voice:
"It's... complicated to explain. Basically, my brain processes certain information differently than most people's. That makes social interactions, non-verbal language, that kind of thing difficult for me."
I nod slowly, trying to better understand his condition.
"And is that... bad?" I ask with genuine curiosity. "I mean, does it cause you problems or anything?"
He siffly shrugs.
"Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It depends on the situation. In academics and work it's usually an advantage, because I can focus really well on logical, repetitive tasks. But socially... well, let's just say it's not my strong suit."
I observe him closely, noticing how he averts his masked gaze. I can imagine the discomfort and vulnerability he must be feeling opening up like this.
"Hey, you don't have to be ashamed, okay?" I say softly. "I think it's admirable that you can be so honest about it. Most pred- I mean, humans, would probably do everything possible to hide it, right?"
Daniel lets out a slight huff through the mask, a metallic and distorted sound that could almost be mistaken for a bitter laugh.
"Now, I guess not, but it's ironic, don't you think?" he comments with a tinge of bitterness. "In prehistoric times, someone like me might have been abandoned or devoured for not fitting in with the tribe or group.
"But now... well, it seems I might not fit in anywhere at this rate, or maybe I'm exaggerating, but sometimes I don't know what to think. Because I don't want people to see me with pity or as someone who can't fend for themselves. It's messed up, because sometimes they see you in a condescending way, like you need help with everything all the time, when that's not always the case. I want to show the world, or the universe, that I can be myself without needing anyone's help to be me, that I can make it on my own without depending on anyone..."
After an awkward silence, I decide to break the ice again.
"Hey Daniel, I understand you don't like talking much about your... peculiarity," I say carefully. "But I want you to know you don't have to be ashamed of it with me, okay? I don't think any less of you for being... well, different."
Daniel shifts in his seat, his body language still slightly rigid and tense. I can imagine the discomfort he must be feeling, and I don't like it.
"It's not that I'm ashamed, exactly," he responds with apparent caution. "It's just that... sometimes I feel like people look at me with pity, you know? Like I need help with everything, when really most of the time I can fend for myself."
I nod slowly, trying to understand his perspective. I suppose for someone like him, who's probably used to dealing with prejudices and misunderstandings about his peculiarity, it must be frustrating to be treated in a condescending way.
But this time, he breaks the silence.
"Hey... there's something that's been on my mind," he admits hesitantly. "When you said you wouldn't let anyone hurt me, it sounded like you'd gone through a similar experience."
I swallow hard, feeling a lump in my throat. So he noticed. Well, I suppose it was inevitable he'd figure it out sooner or later, considering how perceptive he seems to be.
I guess it's time for me to tell my truth.
\---------------------0
Prologue
First
Previous / Next
Spanish Version (OG Version)

So I have a storm cellar that supposedly has power to it, I have a 20 amp breaker in my breaker box labeled "Storm Cellar(?) 110v". However, when I pulled the two blanks off that are in the cellar, there's just a red and a blue 16 gauge (might 14g but I think it's smaller? Idk for sure). There's no power wire, unless it's in the ceramic light fixture which I haven't taken off yet because it's stuck. There was no power detected in either cord in either receptacle, and I shut off the breaker afterwards (about a week ago) and nothing has appeared to lose power as a result. So idk where it goes.
Anyways, so I want to set up this to A) provide power to a light, and a receptacle to power a weboost signal booster B) provide backup power if I find out that I can get main power from my house after all to do part A
I'm pretty confident on doing A in the event I have no main power. There's lots of YouTube videos on this and it's fairly straight forward. What I'm not sure about, is how the wiring would end up should I have it set up as a backup power source. Just need like a wiring diagram or something to help me make sure I do that correctly is all. I'm sure I don't want to send power down the other way to the breaker panel if I plug it in and the house has lost power (or send power from the breaker panel straight into the battery lol)

Hello, I'm interested in hacking the heads up display in my car (a 2012 Lexus HS250h). The HUD has a graphical mode LCD display inside.
The HUD receives data from the combination meter, two wires labeled "CS" and "TX". The Toyota technical manual does NOT document the nature of this communication protocol between the two devices. Interestingly however, the only connections to this device are power, ground, its own control panel switches, and two data terminals.
Wiring diagram snippet: https://imgur.com/a/OlcLHaO
I had a hunch that CS might be "chip select" and that the TX signal is nothing more than a bare LCD driver a la I2C protocol. But, it is also possible that this protocol is a serial connection or even the undocumented Toyota AVC-Lan protocol.
I recorded the potential between Ground and TX- while the devices were connected and working. Before I start plugging things like Arduino pins into here, I would like to share what I've recorded and to see whether anybody has any observation based on the pattern? The pattern when comparing the potential between CS and TX- was similar, so I don't believe I've observed CS doing anything yet.
Oscilloscope view of TX- signal vs. ground: https://imgur.com/a/3d20Bp5
In the video... it looks to me like these signal "humps" are about 50µs long, about 70mV "high", and the time spaces between them vary.
During this measurement, the HUD display was on and was simply displaying "0 km/h" without changing.
Any thoughts? My goal is to hack this signal and conditionally send my own output to the display.

The Dentist of Filly
The sounds of a drill stopped.
“You know what,” the man in the filthy overcoat said, “I think this is the wrong tool for the job” The man spun around on his wheeled-stool and scooted closer to his workstation.
Despite being labelled as a dentist’s office, this room bore closer resemblance to a mechanic’s workshop. The concrete floor had patches of oil stains and several globs of dried blood and phlegm. In the middle of the room, a set of reclaimed car seats acted as dentist chairs. The walls, welded together from chain link fencing and iron sheets, alongside other bits of salvage, blocked the sunlight from spilling into the room. Instead, most of the room’s illumination came from a glass skylight and the electrical fairy-lights that clung to the rafters. Those electrical cables descended into a set of extension cables, which ran carelessly along the sides of the room and into the hidden room at the far end. At least, only a few traces of blood leaked across the floor from the other room.
“What do you think?” The dentist lifted up a large pair of blacksmith tongs. The long metal rods had been forged from cast iron over two centuries ago. He hoisted them into the air and clammed excitedly.
The patient, a man wearing a black Brotherhood of Steel uniform, whimpered at the size of the instrument. “Do we have to?”
“Just open your mouth and close your eyes.”
The patient did as he was told, but not fast enough. The dentist grabbed the man’s chin and yanked it down in a sudden movement. He maneuvered his large instrument with a surprising amount of grace. It took hold of a molar.
The patient convulsed in the operating chair, pivoting his head back and forth. He pressed his head into the car seat headrest. The patient felt his tooth resisting the vicious tugs of the dentist’s tool.
“Ah! A good set of teeth. I’ll pay premium. One. Two.”
Before the dentist said ‘three’, he seized hard upon the tooth and hauled it out whole and entire.
“Wowie! What a beauty!” He admired the tooth within the claws of the blacksmith’s tongs. The sunbeam that cut through the room from the skylight embraced the molar. The dentist did not take his eyes away from his reward.
“Premium!” the dentist said, laughing to himself. He spun in his wheeled-stool and scooted toward the chest of drawers against another wall. He picked up a piece of dirty cloth and wiped the tooth carefully. Then, he unlocked a heavy metal box that sat upon the top of the chest of drawers. He delicately opened it and placed the molar upon a tiny padded pillow. Furtively, he looked back at his patient, before closing and locking the box again.
The dentist rifled through one of the drawers and pulled out a leather bag of caps. He knocked out a handful and began to count them out loud. He had to stop after counting to six, seemingly forgetting what came next, and needed to restart his count.
“Here you are, sir!” The dentist let a dozen caps fall into the man’s hands.
“T-ank you,” the man said, rising from the chair. He held his hand against the left side of his face as the swelling had already begun. This patient, eager to be on his way, shifted through the main doorway, allowing someone else to enter the room.
The dentist, having already wheeled away on his stool to a cabinet at the other side of the room, did not detect the woman who had entered the room. He tinkered through several sets of dentures. They were cobbled together from the teeth of beast and human alike. He opened a pair of them, which hid a little mechanical gem. Then, he felt a chill shiver through his spine. He twisted in place, looking at the figure standing behind him.
He leapt to his feet, then fell back to his stool.
“Doctor Celsus, I presume.” The woman tapped her feet impatiently. Her boots, sabatons made from heavy metal, clinked against the concrete floor. Her entire body had been encased with crude plates of study metal. A laser pistol hung limply at her side.
“He is I, but, please, please, call me Kelvin.” The dentist smiled wide. His teeth had succumbed to rot a long time ago.
“I have a few questions,” the woman said. She had positioned herself in the room as though she owned it. After she spoke, she moved and casually perused his workstation. She spent more time examining the trinkets atop the chest of drawers. She touched the locked metal box, causing the dentist to flinch. The woman looked at him and raised an eyebrow. She continued her perusal, stopping at the cabinet with dentures in it. The mouthless teeth mocked her with their disembodied smiles.
“Questions? Well, I am your humble servant.”
The dentist kept his eyes on her, swiveling his stool as she walked through his workshop. His heart began to beat faster. He became fearful that this woman sought to steal his best teeth. He would rather die than give away his collection. Only yesterday, he had formed together a beautiful pair of dentures from a blended set of teeth from horse and dog.
“Did you purchase an Optical Enhancer?” the woman turned her attention to the man in the dirty overcoat. “Two weeks ago?” From her perspective, he was another charlatan plying an unregulated trade.
The dentist squirmed. His eyes quickly flashed to the hidden room at the opposite end of his workshop. His mind began to race with options: would he lie? tell the truth? dodge the question?
“If you must know, I purchased it fairly. It’s not yours, I presume.” The dentist examined the woman’s face. While she had been covered with a variety of facial scars, both large and small, she still had both of her eyes in place. No signs of optical surgery seemed evident.
“If you’d like to install it,” the dentist said hesitantly, “I’d be happy to. Anything with eyes, ears, mouth, and nose are my speciality. Nose too big? I’ll shape it down to size!”
The woman exhaled through her bulbous nose. Scar tissue had caused it to grow and change shape since her last mission. It had been a vain concern of hers, but she would not trust a common wasteland doctor to perform the surgery.
“Doctor Celsus…” “Kelvin.” “Kelvin.” She took a heavy step toward him. For the first time, he realized that she had not been totally armoured, but, rather, she had been mostly rebuilt, reconstructed, with electronic prosthetics. In fact, her right arm, up to her shoulder, had been completely fabricated from salvaged technology. “I am in no mood to play games. Give me a name and date for the person who sold you the optical implant.” She moved closer, the janky movements of her prosthetic legs now evident to the doctor. They had been fabricated from a combination of mechanical parts and installed mid-thigh.
“Oh, my memory is not quite what it used to be. Two weeks, you said?”
Before the dentist could finish his delaying tactics, the woman shot her arm toward him. Her metallic fingers gripped his neck and squeezed his windpipe. Ever so slowly, he rose from the ground, his toes keeping contact with the ground.
“Kelvin,” she said with a calculated coldness, “I am in no mood for games.”
The dentist choked for air. He indicated he could not breath.
“D-down, down,” he sputtered with gasps.
The woman loosened her grip. Kelvin fell back to his stool and clutched his neck. He sucked in air as fast as he could. The woman rolled her shoulders and readied herself for another exertion of force. In self-defence, the doctor raised his palms into the air.
“I’ll speak! I’ll speak!”
The doctor coughed up phlegm. It splattered upon the dirty floor of his operating room. He smudged it away with the bottom of his shoe. Taking a small breath, he staggered to his feet, using the cabinet as support. “A man, a man. He came last week. He wanted to sell me the piece. Good price: 2,000 caps. I could do the surgery for double the price. I bought it. I didn’t think twice. I didn’t catch his name.” At the end of the last sentence, the woman lunged forward, but the dentist cowered.
“Please!” he muttered with a whimper. “It’s all I know!”
The woman unholstered a laser pistol from her right mechanical thigh. She pressed the sidearm into the dentist’s temple.
“Is that all?” she said coldly.
“Yes, yes. I mean, he said that he would be heading to Moldaver with some information.”
The woman pressed her laser pistol harder against his head.
“That’s all I know!” he sputtered. Tears began to stream from his eyes. “I don’t know what he wanted with Moldaver. I swear!”
“Give me the eye.”
“What!?”
“You heard me,” the woman took a step backward, but kept the laser pistol pointed.
Slowly, the man moved to his cabinet and pulled out a set of dentures. He clacked their jaws open and pulled out the electronic eye from its hiding spot.
The mechanical woman snatched it from his hand. She holstered her pistol.
“A-and the payment?” the dentist said with a shaky voice.
The woman laughed as she turned toward the exit. Her hand touched the sides of the doorframe. For a brief moment, she considered liquidizing the dentist. She wanted to leave no loose ends. Her eyes, ignited by a piercing vengeance, beheld the doctor. She took pity on this whimpering excuse for a man. She left before she could change her mind.

The Dentist of Filly
The sounds of a drill stopped.
“You know what,” the man in the filthy overcoat said, “I think this is the wrong tool for the job” The man spun around on his wheeled-stool and scooted closer to his workstation.
Despite being labelled as a dentist’s office, this room bore closer resemblance to a mechanic’s workshop. The concrete floor had patches of oil stains and several globs of dried blood and phlegm. In the middle of the room, a set of reclaimed car seats acted as dentist chairs. The walls, welded together from chain link fencing and iron sheets, alongside other bits of salvage, blocked the sunlight from spilling into the room. Instead, most of the room’s illumination came from a glass skylight and the electrical fairy-lights that clung to the rafters. Those electrical cables descended into a set of extension cables, which ran carelessly along the sides of the room and into the hidden room at the far end. At least, only a few traces of blood leaked across the floor from the other room.
“What do you think?” The dentist lifted up a large pair of blacksmith tongs. The long metal rods had been forged from cast iron over two centuries ago. He hoisted them into the air and clammed excitedly.
The patient, a man wearing a black Brotherhood of Steel uniform, whimpered at the size of the instrument. “Do we have to?”
“Just open your mouth and close your eyes.”
The patient did as he was told, but not fast enough. The dentist grabbed the man’s chin and yanked it down in a sudden movement. He maneuvered his large instrument with a surprising amount of grace. It took hold of a molar.
The patient convulsed in the operating chair, pivoting his head back and forth. He pressed his head into the car seat headrest. The patient felt his tooth resisting the vicious tugs of the dentist’s tool.
“Ah! A good set of teeth. I’ll pay premium. One. Two.”
Before the dentist said ‘three’, he seized hard upon the tooth and hauled it out whole and entire.
“Wowie! What a beauty!” He admired the tooth within the claws of the blacksmith’s tongs. The sunbeam that cut through the room from the skylight embraced the molar. The dentist did not take his eyes away from his reward.
“Premium!” the dentist said, laughing to himself. He spun in his wheeled-stool and scooted toward the chest of drawers against another wall. He picked up a piece of dirty cloth and wiped the tooth carefully. Then, he unlocked a heavy metal box that sat upon the top of the chest of drawers. He delicately opened it and placed the molar upon a tiny padded pillow. Furtively, he looked back at his patient, before closing and locking the box again.
The dentist rifled through one of the drawers and pulled out a leather bag of caps. He knocked out a handful and began to count them out loud. He had to stop after counting to six, seemingly forgetting what came next, and needed to restart his count.
“Here you are, sir!” The dentist let a dozen caps fall into the man’s hands.
“T-ank you,” the man said, rising from the chair. He held his hand against the left side of his face as the swelling had already begun. This patient, eager to be on his way, shifted through the main doorway, allowing someone else to enter the room.
The dentist, having already wheeled away on his stool to a cabinet at the other side of the room, did not detect the woman who had entered the room. He tinkered through several sets of dentures. They were cobbled together from the teeth of beast and human alike. He opened a pair of them, which hid a little mechanical gem. Then, he felt a chill shiver through his spine. He twisted in place, looking at the figure standing behind him.
He leapt to his feet, then fell back to his stool.
“Doctor Celsus, I presume.” The woman tapped her feet impatiently. Her boots, sabatons made from heavy metal, clinked against the concrete floor. Her entire body had been encased with crude plates of study metal. A laser pistol hung limply at her side.
“He is I, but, please, please, call me Kelvin.” The dentist smiled wide. His teeth had succumbed to rot a long time ago.
“I have a few questions,” the woman said. She had positioned herself in the room as though she owned it. After she spoke, she moved and casually perused his workstation. She spent more time examining the trinkets atop the chest of drawers. She touched the locked metal box, causing the dentist to flinch. The woman looked at him and raised an eyebrow. She continued her perusal, stopping at the cabinet with dentures in it. The mouthless teeth mocked her with their disembodied smiles.
“Questions? Well, I am your humble servant.”
The dentist kept his eyes on her, swiveling his stool as she walked through his workshop. His heart began to beat faster. He became fearful that this woman sought to steal his best teeth. He would rather die than give away his collection. Only yesterday, he had formed together a beautiful pair of dentures from a blended set of teeth from horse and dog.
“Did you purchase an Optical Enhancer?” the woman turned her attention to the man in the dirty overcoat. “Two weeks ago?” From her perspective, he was another charlatan plying an unregulated trade.
The dentist squirmed. His eyes quickly flashed to the hidden room at the opposite end of his workshop. His mind began to race with options: would he lie? tell the truth? dodge the question?
“If you must know, I purchased it fairly. It’s not yours, I presume.” The dentist examined the woman’s face. While she had been covered with a variety of facial scars, both large and small, she still had both of her eyes in place. No signs of optical surgery seemed evident.
“If you’d like to install it,” the dentist said hesitantly, “I’d be happy to. Anything with eyes, ears, mouth, and nose are my speciality. Nose too big? I’ll shape it down to size!”
The woman exhaled through her bulbous nose. Scar tissue had caused it to grow and change shape since her last mission. It had been a vain concern of hers, but she would not trust a common wasteland doctor to perform the surgery.
“Doctor Celsus…” “Kelvin.” “Kelvin.” She took a heavy step toward him. For the first time, he realized that she had not been totally armoured, but, rather, she had been mostly rebuilt, reconstructed, with electronic prosthetics. In fact, her right arm, up to her shoulder, had been completely fabricated from salvaged technology. “I am in no mood to play games. Give me a name and date for the person who sold you the optical implant.” She moved closer, the janky movements of her prosthetic legs now evident to the doctor. They had been fabricated from a combination of mechanical parts and installed mid-thigh.
“Oh, my memory is not quite what it used to be. Two weeks, you said?”
Before the dentist could finish his delaying tactics, the woman shot her arm toward him. Her metallic fingers gripped his neck and squeezed his windpipe. Ever so slowly, he rose from the ground, his toes keeping contact with the ground.
“Kelvin,” she said with a calculated coldness, “I am in no mood for games.”
The dentist choked for air. He indicated he could not breath.
“D-down, down,” he sputtered with gasps.
The woman loosened her grip. Kelvin fell back to his stool and clutched his neck. He sucked in air as fast as he could. The woman rolled her shoulders and readied herself for another exertion of force. In self-defence, the doctor raised his palms into the air.
“I’ll speak! I’ll speak!”
The doctor coughed up phlegm. It splattered upon the dirty floor of his operating room. He smudged it away with the bottom of his shoe. Taking a small breath, he staggered to his feet, using the cabinet as support. “A man, a man. He came last week. He wanted to sell me the piece. Good price: 2,000 caps. I could do the surgery for double the price. I bought it. I didn’t think twice. I didn’t catch his name.” At the end of the last sentence, the woman lunged forward, but the dentist cowered.
“Please!” he muttered with a whimper. “It’s all I know!”
The woman unholstered a laser pistol from her right mechanical thigh. She pressed the sidearm into the dentist’s temple.
“Is that all?” she said coldly.
“Yes, yes. I mean, he said that he would be heading to Moldaver with some information.”
The woman pressed her laser pistol harder against his head.
“That’s all I know!” he sputtered. Tears began to stream from his eyes. “I don’t know what he wanted with Moldaver. I swear!”
“Give me the eye.”
“What!?”
“You heard me,” the woman took a step backward, but kept the laser pistol pointed.
Slowly, the man moved to his cabinet and pulled out a set of dentures. He clacked their jaws open and pulled out the electronic eye from its hiding spot.
The mechanical woman snatched it from his hand. She holstered her pistol.
“A-and the payment?” the dentist said with a shaky voice.
The woman laughed as she turned toward the exit. Her hand touched the sides of the doorframe. For a brief moment, she considered liquidizing the dentist. She wanted to leave no loose ends. Her eyes, ignited by a piercing vengeance, beheld the doctor. She took pity on this whimpering excuse for a man. She left before she could change her mind.

I completely shut down when my instructor is rude to me. I know he does it because he thinks it'll scare me into learning, but it frustrates me so much that I can't think straight. I really want to be able to be better but I find it so hard to bounce back after being "told off."
It's things like, the instant I make a mistake, he'll start shaking his head, rolling his eyes, muttering to himself, berating me whilst in the middle of the situation which makes it harder to recover and keep going. He'll angrily say things like "When my clutch burns out, are you going to pay for it, yes or no? Shall I send you the invoice, are you going to be okay with it?" And actually waits for an answer, which makes me feel really awful. He'll then pull over and lecture me for at least ten minutes and make me do really intentionally patronizing activities like reading from a pamphlet, labelling exits on roundabout diagrams, etc.
I'm thirty hours in and my test is in two weeks. I know that I'm making stupid mistakes and maybe he thinks that I do deserve to be berated because it's the only way I'll learn, but it just makes me shut down and then I can't get anything right. He's also really nice half the time and I just can't help but think that I'm genuinely such a bad driver that the only reason other people have nice instructors is because they're good at driving, and that I'd be being lectured and berated regardless of who's car I was in. Besides, since I'm familiar with his car's clutch, reference points etc, it feels too late to change now.
So, small rant aside haha, my question is does anybody have any tips for how to make these criticisms more constructive for me and how to avoid dwelling on mistakes because it feels so much easier said than done.

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Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.