The Ride

You might wonder where exactly he intended to go. The vastness of what was in front of him was beyond the realm of thought. Right there in that moment right outside the station it felt to him like a moonlit plain, the shadows towering above him like dark and mysterious turrets. The sky was mainly black and red with a burnt pink and orange sun cutting into the darkness and just to look at that sight pulled at his heartstrings.

This ride, the ride was his escape, this was his night, his shot at glory each and every time. How had he become part of this morbid sense of captivity? He knew that wherever he went that he could never escape it, never get off. Whenever he fell off he would always be back. Back there with his chains shackled and weighted down with his own nuclear fear like a knife that would each time cut at his very synthetic soul and find nothing left but a black empty heart where one would perhaps expect to find rebellious blood the color of a shimmering red rose, but not in this immortal type. Synthetic black blood ran through his veins like motor oil and this blood was thick and ready for a change.

He never wanted to be king. But he was his own king. The faces of all those he had killed he saw in his sleep each and every night as they drowned in the flames where they had met their demise. And he knew that for all his acts that in this great play when it reached its conclusion that he would be going to Hell.

He cracked a smile to himself at that thought.

And as he watched them drown in the flames, as their eye sockets became black and deep and all their faces turned into dust and he imagined them cooked with black tongues sticking out of white hot teeth and there they were all dead at the bottom of some grand pyre and all black bones and death and demons and ghouls and the expression would be something like a screaming gasp of desperation etched onto their faces.

Then he would see a white angel descending from the sky and he would feel the fear and he would feel a cold breeze and he would wake in a pool of sweat knowing that the story and dreams would continue in a torturous loop.

The Ride through his own kingdom of burning. He was trapped and so was everybody else.



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