THE DIARY OF A PERVERTED CELIBATE

THE DIARY OF A PERVERTED CELIBATE (CHAPTER IX) by Japheth J Omojuwa


My tears are flowing like the Brazilian Iguazu falls now but only within me. I felt the path of flow of my tears inside of me as pain gripped my soul. The army suddenly became one mass of fire ball as it gathered in size and intensity. It filled every space my eyes could see even as I said a prayer for the first time in a long while. Just kill me and get this over with for God’s sake. Amen!. I knew something was wrong with my prayer but I felt I had said enough for Him to hear me. Aren’t you closer to His throne when you are dead? Okay you might not know that as you have never been dead. I had a conviction my prayers had been answered when the ball of burning fire headed in my direction. I prayed for death even when I knew I was already dead but still I had an instinctive urge to run. I did not. I just stood there motionless waiting for the inevitable. This death would be the consumption of my soul and my spirit. When the ball of fire finally encircled me I burnt with fear and pain inside of me but I realised it was not the fire, it was the sound in the fire. I heard human voices wailing, shouting and crying. I heard voices but I could not understand anything they were saying. It sounded like the voices of men and women in agony wanting to be set free. I was not burnt or consumed by the fire but I was right inside it. My eyes saw nothing but the glow of fire but my spirit was disturbed by the lamentations of souls apparently burning in the fire, souls I could not see. If this was a game to kill me from within, it was working until the fire packed up and moved upward above my head. It gathered directly above me as I raised my head to look at it. It formed a circle over what looked like a sky dripping with blood as it boiled before my eyes forming bubbles of red. Suddenly, like a gathering of drops of water, it formed a calm single massive body . The mass began to take shape and I realised I was looking at the head of a man whose body appeared to be buried in the boiling blood. When I asked myself who or what this could be, I heard his voice clearly even as it sounded like the whole world was talking to me at the same time. I have never heard anything that loud and scary but they were not my only fear, I would take fear over looking at his face but I really could not die anymore as death seemed to be a baby compared to the fear I felt. He spoke a language I should not understand but my spirit heard it right and clearly…MY NAME IS ZENTHA, ZENTHA LU’ ZUATHA. THIS IS THE GATE OF HELL!!

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