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Speaking as the person whose name you chose,
tell the reader a little about yourself, your life, and
how you managed to wind up in hell. What was your
sin, what is your punishment, and how do you feel
about what you did now that you are here forever.
Hello. My name is Paschal Paine. I used to be a businessman of industry. Steel was my main product, which I would sell to railroad companies to build railroads and to architects so they can build strong and sturdy buildings. I became very successful and very wealthy. Soon, I had a mansion and many summer homes. I had all the money in the world and overindulged in possibly everything you can think of. I always had too much food, especially on the holidays. Instead of donating or giving these items to people who needed them, I threw them all away and they were wasted. I had plenty of opportunities to donate them, however I chose not to. I lived in a very poor neighborhood where there were very few wealthy people and many of them needed help. As a result I was not a very popular person in town and was lonely for the rest of my days. Now days I spend eternity in hell for my gluttony during my lifetime. I will have to deal with my own contrapasso. My punishment consists of starvation but never can lead to death. I am placed within a steel cage starving. There is food all around the outside of the cage. The food is always a fingertip away from my grasp. I will never be able to reach the food no matter how hard I try. Each time I try, I always fail. No matter how many times I fail, I will always keep trying. I can never learn my lesson. The constant frustration of trying and failing over and over again is ruthless and unbearable. The constant starvation makes you pray for death to come however you never reach it. Every time you reach for it, it seems to get closer and closer to the point of insanity. Thinking back, I would have given all of my wealth away just to be put out of my misery.
ReplyDeleteDante’s Inferno Writing
ReplyDeleteAs I close my eyes, and fall down the endless expanse of darkness, I regained consciousness again and noticed that I was no longer in my bed room, what could have happened? Before I could start my retrospection of what happened and where I am, I heard a loud screech flooding out of the darkness, what was that? It sure doesn’t sound like ONE person, it sounded like millions of people screaming out in that one screech for help. The air was cold and dark, however, my curious nature made me continue to descend down the darkness to follow that screech. Arriving in a place which resembles a dark forest, the trees seemed to resemble human figures. What is this place? Confused, I still continued my walk across the dark forest. Why are there so many trees? The forest didn’t seem to have an end, suddenly, I heard a familiar voice, and it resembled my mother. How can this be? She’s supposed to be dead! At least that’s what father said. I quickly pursued the voice, stopping in front of a big tree with its branches resembling a hanging figure. The voice seemed to be radiating from this tree. I took a closer look at the heart of the tree. What I saw next was beyond comprehension. The tree looked exactly like my mother! As I walked closer to the tree, it seemed to look straight back at me. Mother? Is that you? I touched the heart of the tree, of what seemed to resemble my mother face, and suddenly I saw flashbacks, it looked like memories. I saw a reflection of myself in the flashback, and someone was holding me, it was mom! Abruptly, everything went dark again, I found myself again inside my mother’s bedroom, and it was decorated. I put those decorations on myself! It was her birthday! The day she disappeared from me! The decorations distracted me from seeing what was behind me, a strange, twisted figure seemed to be hanging on a glosser line of thread, looking back, my eyes dilated, my mouth, froze, everything stopped, and I collapsed down to the floor. Waking up again in the forest, finally understanding the mystery of my mother’s disappearance, I ran, hoping to run as far away from this god forsaken place as possible. However, as I ran, everything felt heavy, my body felt rusty and heavy, then I could no longer run, I was no longer moving. It felt like I was alive, but I wasn’t moving, nothing moved, then everything went black… My name is Marilyn.
Name inspired by Marilyn Monroe, her death was listed as a probable suicide
My name is Margaret. I was once married to the wealthy aristocrat, George A. We had no children, though he had two children from his first marriage. George was a man of wealth and great power. He enjoyed the finer things in life and I was spoiled rotten, not that I am complaining. I grew up poor so meeting George changed my life in unimaginable ways. The details of our meeting are complex as he was already married to his first wife at the time with one child and one on the way. This was merely a complication in our relationship, as I was determined to spend the rest of my days enjoying the extravagant material items life has to offer. So when George told me he was married, I simply saw this an obstacle. Anyway, a few months later, George left his wife. A few weeks later we were blessed with our beautiful daughter. Those who don’t know myself and George seem to judge our “untraditional” situation and say that “contrapasso” will catch up to me. Apparently my sins are adultery and greed but I see myself as opportunistic. After I passed away my daughter and I were separated. She went to heaven and I, to Hell. Perhaps this is my punishment for ruining a truly loving relationship for my own personal gain. The only person I ever truly loved is my beautiful daughter. I continue to commit the sin of greed and envy with every passing day as I miss her more and more. The days here are miserable. Spending every waking moment with George, I realize I never truly cared for him. If I could go back in time and live with my daughter peacefully with nothing, I would instead of having the lavish life I did.
ReplyDeleteMy name is George S. Savage, and I am 50 years of age. You might be wondering where I am and the answer is that I am currently in hell. Before you can understand how I found my way here, you must first know the me before death.
ReplyDeleteMy story started when I was 10. My father was an alcoholic. He would come home everyday, dunk. Consumption of alcohol made him loose it. He became a very violent man. Every night I would pray that he would come home drunk enough and pass out. This, was wishful thinking. Both me and my mom are always in fear of the violence. My mom is not as lucky as I am. One day, my father came home, drunk as usual, and beat my mother half to death. At this point I could no longer hold back. I grabbed a metallic bat and swung it, full force, at his tempo. The violent man was down. At that point, I realized that I could no longer suppress my anger for the man lying by my feet. I couldn't stop but release my years of anger and hatred on him. In that moment, Mom crawled over and tried to stop me. I had lost sight of right and wrong. My head was consumed by rage and I struct her as she got in my way of punishment. Once I made sure the violent man was no longer breathing, I calmed down. I took a moment for me to come back to my senses. And when I did, I weeped. What I saw when I looked up was the bodies of my parents, lying dead on the floor. And my hand, covered in their blood.
That was the beginning to my downfall. I was alone for the first time. Alone without love or support and guild. This feeling of solitary led me down a dark path; one involving many mistakes. After my parents' death, I was consumed by grief, anger, and lament. I started to walk the path my father had. I started to indulge myself in alcohol. I became a violent man in the making, a shadow of my father. But then I found light. I met a beautiful girl and settled down. Life resumed once more. Then came the two lights in my life, my son and daughter. As soon as happiness swept over, it disappeared. 'It' struck me again. This distant but familiar feeling. I was 40 when she died. I once again found myself in a pit. My childhood feelings started to arise once more. My head, filled with pain and anger, my body, longing for release. It was almost as if it was a cycle, an endless one. Happiness was but temporary, pain and anger was immortal and reoccurring. Pain and anger became my friend, the only things I could resort to, to feel justified. Soon, I resumed to my violent self. The habit of drinking and destroying came back. And soon, I found myself alone once more, and the two lights of my life perished by my very hands. I guess it runs in the family. Oh, the irony of our names.
My death came at the age of 50, and so did my judgement. I have sinned in some of the worst ways possible. It wasn't to my surprise that I found myself in hell. Yet again, no one can become familiar with hell. Hell was like nothing I have ever seen or phatomed. It made the darkness inside my heart miniscule. I found myself overwhelmed by fear and loss of hope. My sins include the sin of gluttony, anger, and violence. By god's judgement I must repay my sins.
ReplyDeleteMy first punishment, the punishment for gluttony. With this sin, I was sent to the third circle of hell to serve my judgement. There, sinners like myself are overlooked by cerberus, a worm devil. Our punishment involved being forced to have endless sewage rain down on mouthes. This symbolizes my obsession for alcohol and its degradation on me. My second punishment, the punishment for anger. With this sin, I was transported to the fifth circle of hell to serve my sin. Here, the souls of the sinned, including myself, are forced to endless fighting amongst one another. Reflecting our sin of anger and inability for self control. My last sin, the sin of wrath. I served my judgment at the seventh circle of hell. Here, murderers alike are sunk in a river of boiling blood and fire. Those who try to escape are fed upon by harpies and torn to pieces by hell hounds.
Now that you have learned my story, you may now comprehend why I have written this. I am not in purgatory, I am in hell. Hell is a place of loss hopes. Those who enter are dammed for eternity, never to reach the light. All I have left now are wise words to be shared with those walking in my path. Pity me, and pity my judgments that led to my sinning, which ultimately my down fall. Most of all, learn from my mistakes because coming from a guy who had witnessed it, hell is not a pretty place and sinning does not lead to a pretty fate.
I lived a life that drastically changed in a day. I grew up on a farm out in the Midwest. The Flagg residence which spanned for hundreds of miles in the flat farmland, a large bed barn sat to the side of the old white house, it’s paint torn and pealing as the years turned into decades. It was myself, Charles, with my two brothers Sam and Blake that ran this farm with our father. I lived a normal life until one hot August day when I became someone else, someone capable of unspeakable things.
ReplyDeleteThe day was hot, the kind of heat that starts far before the sun even rises. My oldest brother, Blake, called us up before dawn to start a days work before the sun became too intense for our bodies. He ran into the room shaking our resting bodies till we had no choice but to awake in the sticky, dense heat of summer. Groggy and sweating already, I made way outside the house. Without knowing it a the time, it was the last time I would ever look at it. I always remembered the way the early morning sun made the white paint glow with a shade of red indescribable to the eyes. In the second I took to intake the beauty of this moment, Blake came over and tackled me.
“What’s the matter little brother? You can’t take a hit? What are you, a little sissy?”
I quickly picked myself up trying to just shrug it off. I grabbed a sickle and made my way up and down the rows of gain. The run rising higher now I could always hear Blake yell at Sam to work harder. That he was letting the family down by his resting. I was covered in burning sweat. The salt stinging my eyes as my hand grew slick and my grasp on the sickle grew weaker. I took another swing at the grain and watched its stem crumple under my blow. But as I was watching that I heard someone fall to the ground.
From this moment I cannot remember if it was the sun or if I just went crazy but immediately I found myself standing next to Blake as he was punching Sam repeatedly. I couldn’t just stand back and watch so I raised the sickle high in the air as the blade sparked with a satisfying glow. Bringing the sharp, long metal hook to Blake brought a small smile upon my face. I hit him again, and again as the blood poured out of him and into the pile of chopped stems. His blood felt like it was burning through me as it covered me. I stood over his lifeless body and moved closer. Deep slits oozing out blood and parts of intestines littered his warm body.
I heard the screen door crack loudly as the sight of someone came into the haze of my mind. Before I could see who it was I crumpled next to his body, his blood now swallowing me and dragging me into the earth below.
Since that hot August day, I’ve been down here, in a level of hell that is surrounded by faces, mostly of Blake. I am walking up and down rows and rows of Alder that are budding with the face of Blake. I cut down every row with a blood-covered sickle over and over again until I look back and all the rows are regrown. I cut down every face over and over again in a heat that equates to that of a furnace.
Looking back on it. I want to blame the sun for making me act as I did but I was the one who did this. My own hands killed my brother and I’m reminded of that every second. I am stuck forever, with his blood as the only water I get to taste and his face the only thing I get to see. My name is Charles Flagg and this is my hell.
I was a Hammond. A third generation John Hammond in hope of carrying on the legacy.I never really thought my actions would entirely catch up with me. I kind of thought all the good I did balanced out the bad. Oh how I was wrong. When you think of doctors, you don't really consider them going to hell. In Chicago I wasn't just a pharmacist, I was a man who caught a thrill out of swindling people. I craved wealth and possession. After a deal, it was always easier to get rid of the evidence. By evidence I mean ALL of the evidence. The only thing easier than keeping an appearance was never getting caught. I mean why would anyone suspect a pharmacist? Those were good times. Unfortunately my partner was nothing less than an idiot. After getting his hands dirty with some small insurance fraud scandal, I knew he wasn't going down alone. Evidence is a flaw in crime. He was now evidence. He deserved getting caught. A careless person didn't deserve a carefree life. While his family was just collateral damage. From time to time I feel little guilty about the kids. Just like my partner, I'd soon become careless. The police found me in Boston the next week. It took the police five days to find the other victims and to realize I was guilty as hell. I remember the last time I saw my reflection before was sent to the gallows. I liked what I saw. I was a prominent wealthy doctor. But on May 9, 1882, at sundown, everything I ever accomplished and the things I owned all disappeared as I made my way to the gates of hell. All the good was diminished and I was faced with all the bad. I had nothing left. My obsession with wealth and greed caught up to me the second I reached hell. When I said I had nothing, I meant I had nothing. No watch on my hand. No clothes on my body. No glasses for my vision. Everything I saw was a blurr. I hide in hell naked and ashamed. The only thing I hold onto is the guilt. The only thing I feel is guilt. So I still hold on to the past when I was a wealthy doctor. I fantasize over my possessions, everyday for the rest of eternity. It's not as bad as you think, it's worse.
ReplyDeleteMy name is Hattle Smith, and I received my name after my father, but everyone simply calls me “Little Hattie.” This was always a remark on my size, but also because my father’s nickname for as long as he could remember was “Hattie.” I was always assumed to be a mirror image of my father, when I was growing up, but once I hit my thirteenth birthday, it was obvious I was simply living in his shadows. My father was an all around, typical perfect suburban white boy from Connecticut. He went to church with his family every Sunday, was the MVP on his high school football team, sang in the chorus at school, and, of course, was a perfect student as well. I had a lot to own up to. But obviously since I’m his son, I could do it, right? I’m a mirror image of him, right? No. I’m not. And for some reason, me not being religious, painting for fun, and being an average student, it means I’m “not living up to my potential”? I was twenty when I had had enough. I was killed by depression. Some people say I killed myself or committed suicide, but that sounds like it was some kind of a crime. In reality I died from the overwhelming darkness. Now, I’m here, with another overpowering darkness that I wish I could say was as bad as when I was among the living. But when you think of death, you think that since you’re dead you can’t feel pain. That’s where they get you. I still feel as though I’m living. When I entered I was told that my separation from God, envy of my father, and my “suicide” was the reason I’m here, and since life was the thing I despised the most, that was how I would spend my eternity. I would constantly be in a room with little constant reminders of my father, whether it be words from my family of his greatness, pictures of him appearing on the walls, or home videos of him playing football sounding around me. I couldn’t tell you how long I’ve been in this room but I don’t know how I can escape if every time I’m reminded of him I fall more deeply envious of his feats. I feel the same way I did when I was alive. I want a way out. I want this to end. But I know that this is the end of the line, there is no possible way out.
ReplyDeleteHello my name is George Wilker. After 75 long years of life my grave remains in Ashburnham, Massachusetts, but my soul remains in Hell since 1937. My life was a success and I felt like I always got whatever I wanted, however this was looked at as a very sinful characteristic: Greed. As a child my parents never spoiled me, so whenever I could get my hands on candy, money, or other prize possessions I would take as much of it as I could.
ReplyDeleteHaving a daughter at age 25 with my wife Cindy brought joy to my life, but from my actions it might not seem like it. I was a successful business man and made good money, but instead of bringing the wealth to the family I would keep it all to myself. I would buy custom gold watches, expensive sport cars, and boats, all for myself. If my daughter’s birthday came along or Christmas for the family, I would spend the least amount of money on them as possible, giving them a plate of cookies or something non-extravagant. I never felt the sense of guilt when I wouldn’t go “all out” for their celebrations, but it did cross my mind that I was definitely treating myself. Every time my pay check would come with lots of zeros at the end, I knew a new present for myself was on the way.
My wife would occasionally try and make comments to me saying how we should do more for our daughter. For her 12th birthday all I bought her was a pair of socks, but I knew that I was the one making all the money in the family, so why should I have to share with the rest? My wife and daughter certainly did not wake up early and head to work every day.
I did have another side to myself as well. I had a heavy addiction to gambling. In my early 20’s I would go to the casinos once or twice a week, but by the time I was in my 60’s it was an every night ritual. Dropping thousands of dollars, and not being able to give a penny to the rest my family. Drink after drink and the more intoxicated I became, the amount of money I had wasted was gone. One night after my 6th Rum and Coke, I started feeling this dizzy feeling in my head and seeing flashes of light. Is this the end? I kept asking myself. Someone must have poisoned my drink, because before I knew it my journey into Hell had begun. Skies started darkening, and images became weary. Cool icy feelings associated with dreadfully hot temperatures. I knew my life had been sinful, but never knew greed could do me such a great harm. It was too late to go back and undo past actions, and the foreshadowing of Hell I began to see was not pleasant. Being the greedy person I had been all my life, was now stabbing me in the back. I was now able to realize my sin, but it was too late to get out of the dark hole I had dug myself journeying into Hell.
I’ve been dead a long time, or what seems like a very long time. Before I begin my story I should tell you my name, my name is Oliver Shoonmaker. Before I was damned to hell I was a very successful lawyer. I won almost every case I was in. In my early years I worked hard to get what I deserved. After having successful cases with some very well off clients, I began to get substantial amounts of money. By the time I was thirty years old, I was almost as well off as the people I defended. This however did not help me what-so-ever. My problem was I became very greedy. The more wealth I got the more I wanted. This obsession with money became so great that I ignored my family and only focused on money.
ReplyDeleteI’ve probably made my sin pretty obvious by now, greed. I wanted more and more. When I couldn’t get what I wanted I became envious of those who had what I wanted. That envy turned to wrath and there was nothing I could do after that. My father always told me that one sin usually leads to another so you should be very careful of what you’re doing. I ignored him of course, thinking he was only trying to scare me. I was very, very wrong.
Now for the rest of eternity, I get to endure a punishment worse than anything I have ever endured. I was sent to hell for the first sin I ever committed, greed. You know what it’s like to be greedy, wanting more and more. Well the punishment for that in hell is pretty horrific. Imagine that you are lost in the hottest tropical forest or desert in the world. Your skin burns and blisters, and you have an insatiable thirst and hunger. That’s what the punishment is for greed. You are forced to wander a hot desert in search of food or a drink. Sometimes you do find it, most times you don’t. If you do drink any water that you find, your thirst only gets worse. You don’t feel the satisfaction of being able to finally quench your thirst. You only feel thirstier. It’s as if the food or water foes right through. The worst part for me is the blisters. They burn and only get worse. You can try to jump in a small pond or a puddle but it only makes your skin burn worse. Your greed makes you suffer more than you ever did in life. In hell, you sin is brought with you. It just becomes worse as you begin your punishment. It becomes almost second nature to you. Like it’s a natural instinct that you have to follow.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but all I can say is to be careful with what you do on earth because it will follow you after death. What I mean is once you commit a sin, you just keep committing more. You don’t even realize you’re doing it until it’s too late and you don’t even care anymore. I will be here until eternity, and for the time I have been here it has made me think. I think about what I did in my walking life and what I could have done better. Instead of taking the easy way out of everything, I could have gone about things completely differently and would not have been damned down here. I have come to realize how terrible of a person I was before I died. I didn’t care about anyone else and only tried to please myself. It was nice while it lasted but in the long wrong, I will never regret anything more than the ignorance in the living world. Due to my mistakes, I have to endure a terrible punishment for the rest of eternity.
We were forced to grow up too quickly. It seemed as if each child in the Corsiglia family was born into middle age. I was nine years old when my mother passed and I became the only woman in the household. Each day I would wake before the rooster’s crow to prepare breakfast for my 6 brothers and abusive father. It was a hard life, but I found comfort in the nature that surrounded our property. Any chance I had I would escape to the lake across town and let my feet soak in the cool water. It was the only place I knew that could make me feel like a child again. Anytime I could I would return to the lake simply to admire its natural beauty, but one day as I rested on the lakeshore I heard a voice shout behind me. It was my father. As he stumbled out of the woods behind me I was immediately struck by the stench of liquor and vomit that seemed to pollute the air between us. Upset that I wasn’t preparing dinner he began to yell at me, and then as he raised his hand to strike me something happened. I heard the leaves rustling, and the wind whipping across the water, it was like they were speaking to me. They wanted me to fight back. So before my father could hit me I grabbed his hand and dragged him deep into the lake. It was over so fast. In his inebriated state he could hardly defend himself. As I held his head under water I could feel him struggling for air and then all at once his muscles seized up and then went limp. It was over. I had killed my father.
ReplyDeleteThat is the story of how I came to be here. Hell. It’s nothing like they told us in church. Every person gets a hell specially tailored to suit their sin. For example, I am trapped inside a glass coffin that slowly fills with water until eventually no air is left. I hold my breath for what seems like hours and then everything goes black and I pray that when I wake up it will have all been a bad dream. But it never is. I always wake up back in that coffin with the water rising so slowly that you would almost rather strangle yourself than watch it consume you. It is a million times worse than I could ever imagine. But it is the punishment that I, Harriet S. Corsiglia must endure for eternity.
My name is Ohio Whitney Jr. and I grew up in Boston Massachusetts. My parents spent their whole life never having much. Their parents were the same. So I grew up in a small house with clothes that I have long outgrown and food that barely covered my plate. I hated it. I knew that I was meant for so much more in life. That my family was only holding me back and with them I would never succeed. I knew that if I stayed I would end up just like them, a sad excuse for a life. So I left. It really wasn’t a hard decision to make. I spent my teen years pickpocketing any wealthy man that I saw and by the time I reached the age of 17 i had enough money to leave. So I took anything of importance that my family had and left a note saying not to look for me.
ReplyDeleteNot long after I left I found a large oil company and befriended Michael, the son of the owner. It was not long before I weasled my way into their family business. And once Michael’s father finally passed away I replaced him as the head of the company. I never had a family because I spent so much time working. I felt that I deserved more than I was getting so I started just taking it. I managed to live my entire life and never get caught.
But now here I am in Hell, for all eternity. I couldn’t tell you how long I’ve been here because time seems to pass so slow. It’s a constant cycle of my and hundreds of other souls running and chasing something, I’m not sure what but I know I needed it. No one ever got it though, because as soon as anyone got close they would fall through a hole in the floor and end up even deeper than they were before. I’m not sure how deep hell is but it seems never ending. For every time I fall through there seems to be another floor just like the last, full of more souls.