Undisclosed

[Emperor Pan I]

I have stood before the gates of hell. I have heard the cries, the pleading, the screaming. I have felt the heat scorch my flesh, the flames which do not cease their inconvenient torrid. Then it ends, and you are alone. You stand before the very depth of the abyss and your soul is lost in the darkness. Hell does not exist in anything but you.

I wake up and I am lost. I have no home, no life. Our carbon shells do not tell us what we are; they do not tell us we are alive. A thousand cells give their life up every time I scratch my ass. If every cell was so brave, we would no longer struggle on. Biology tells us when we live and die, but does not take into consideration the very war that goes on between body and soul. Only when our body is dead is there ever peace. Peace of the soul and the peace of the mind. Not everyone is so lucky.

The details of my life are not important, and even if I were willing to share them, I could not. My life does not exist, I am not who I say I am. Even if I were to tell you something, it will be a lie. I no longer exist in the world, in myself. If I were to tell you the world is not what you think it is, the common reaction is denial or revelation. Everyone knows the world is but a candy coated dreamland which smothers the corruption which lies at its foundation. No one however realizes how far that corruption spreads.

But in saying that I lie again. Corruption does not spread, because that is to assume there was something whole to corrupt. Constantly we are told how mankind is pure and prone to corruption. What the underlying message is saying, is we are already corrupt, and the word has become meaning less. No one can contest the behavior of man, and no one is willing to remedy it.

So who am I? I am the man you glimpse on the subway, the guy you sit next to on a plane, the asshole who cuts you off on the freeway. I am everywhere and I am nowhere. I have no home, no permanent residence. My home is the sky or the sea, or the Ramada, or the Holiday Inn. Wherever I am needed, I go. I no longer even have a name. I am Joe, or John or Kyle or Lance. I am who you wish I were. Even now it becomes impossible to even latch onto a name, how can I latch onto a life?

This was before it all began. Everyone knows what a gang is. It is a group of thugs, or the government. They give you what you want, what you need so you can cover up their dirty little secrets. You never know whom you are working for and to what end. You never meet anyone else, so all that happens is you follow your orders. You separate the right hand and the left hand, and all the only thing that knows what is going on is the brain, which controls it all. Going so far to say everyone is a pawn to an ultimate end is false. Pawns at least have some power.

What have you learned? I hope nothing. There is never a period where we learn. We just absorb as useless information as we can and regurgitate it to our friends and family to pretend as if we have a purpose in the circle. You know that little circle everyone has to be a part of; everyone wants to be a part of. We form it with the people we like. The one that gives off the warmth and the happy feelings, but at the base is nothing more than a group of people huddling together to get by. The subconscious scuffle us to amalgamate with the other decaying flesh around us. We are creatures of instinct, creatures who feed off each other.

Mankind is a beast worthy of the title top predator. No longer do we simply prey off weaker animals. We prey off the trees, the air, the water. We prey off hope and lasting peace. We prey on society. We prey on each other. We prey on ourselves. It is not the external animal we go after, it is the internal one. That struggle ends in no winner, and will result in a loss of self.

So what have you learned? What can you learn? No. This is not about what you gain. You do not ask a question and get an answer. The world is far to fickle to allow for such simple minded forums of discussion. We are the beast of dreams to devour the world.

The question is do you want to continue? Forget what you think you know what you wish you knew. Can you handle the inevitable truth, or is the pin that will burst your metaphorical bubble far too painful for you. I have been to hell; I have heard the screams and felt the acrid freezing, which is the death of your soul. The real question is, are you ready to see hell?

[Master.America]

I like your style. It flows well. You make good use of punctuation and you seem to have a solid grasp of the English language in terms of diction.

One suggestion: run over this and check for grammatical errors. It's riddled with various litte errors and some bigger ones, but nothing huge or horribly bothersome. For instance, in your first paragraph, the person and hearing the "cries, pleading, and screaming" and feeling the "flames which do not cease their inconvenient torrid" unexpectedly changes from I (the narrator) to you (the reader). If this was intentional, then it should be more clear; otherwise, it should be one or the other.

I'd be interested to see you post a revision of this. Perhaps one that goes into more detail. Each of these short paragraphs seem to be capable of becoming chapters of a compelling novel.