~The Inferno~
Assignment: Create your own Inferno story.
My breath seemed to freeze in the air
around me. The first thing I had noticed
when I was whisked to this terrible place was that it was so cold! I had believed myself to be so knowledgeable
when it came to Hell, having read Dante’s Inferno
countless times. Yet nothing could have
prepared me for the moment when Dante himself appeared at my bedside and
whisked me away through the night to this terrible wasteland of oppression and
filth.
As we walked through the regions of
Hell, Dante pointed out sinners that had never made their way into his Inferno.
Punishments for sins in our modern world filled me with dismay.
The first area of punishment that
struck me was the part of Hell dedicated to people who denied sin. This area was full of people who were walking
endlessly in a circle. A horrible
creature with a long whip made sure that everyone stayed in line. All around the circle shades enacted horrible
tableaus of rampant wickedness. History
seemed to be unfolding before my eyes. I
saw the terrible whip of the slave-trader, lashing its way through the frozen
air. I saw the gas seeping out of the
gas chambers that proved the death of so many.
I saw the trigger being pulled on a gun, pointed at masses of innocent
people. Suddenly I saw someone who
seemed familiar to me. “Might I talk to
that shade?” I inquired of my
guide. Dante nodded and led me to the
edge of the circle. I started walking
around and I asked, “Is it really you?”
“It is I! Oh, my dear friend, when you return to the
land above, do not waste any time. Put
into writing what you see here. The
world above is so utterly blind to the sin around them. I was once a member of such a society. Believing that there is no sin is so much
harder than believing that there is.
Just look around you!”
We then entered a cavern and stood on
the edge of it. The cavern was filled
with filth; all around the edges was a bubbling hot red river. In the center of it stood a washbasin, with a
pitcher of water. Everyone scrambled to
reach the washbasin, but none of the punished shades could make it. My repulsion and shock were great; I could
barely stand the stench. My guide called
one of the oppressed souls over. He
began to tell us his story. My heart
sank within me as I listened.
“During my life I was esteemed for many
things. I was successful in
everything—and in nothing. We are
suffering punishment for the millions of innocent infant lives our own hands
quenched.”
“Why do the shades all fail to reach
the basin?”
“We all try to reach it and purge
ourselves of the despicable muck we are all immersed in, yet we can never be
clean. We are never able to wash the
filth off of our hands…” The shade was swept up in the river, and we saw him no
more.
We passed by many other shades that
day, but these moved me the most. I
shall record the others someday, but at the present I have no heart to recall
the dire punishments of those who have gone before us to the land of utter
misery, hopelessness, and fear.
