Part I:
HELLS KITCHEN
An arachnid-type beast roasts portions of sin-marinated corpses from inside a furnace in hell. Its tentacles slither along the hallways that connect Hell’s kitchen to the abyss, while holding onto non-silver platters filled with well-done souls for beings of the underworld to feast on.
As a passerby behemoth helps itself to a portion of sin-glazed appetizers, an ascetic’s essence is delivered as an array of gourmet selections to the holiest orders in Hades’ lounge. The martyr’s soul bears too much essence for Beelzebub and his priests, and so most of it is served to visiting heathens from heaven.
It’s here in Hades’ lounge where all energies made manifest by man’s thought, word, and emotion are fed to the holiest of deities after death—to again manifest life through rebirth.
Part II:
THE SUB-STRATUM DOMAIN
Najma is led into the V.I.P. section of the lounge area by an ogre with an exaggerated bouncer-type physique. She’s from the year 3042, and the revolution of spiritual technology is now yielding the boundless space of a wakeful dream.
As her subconscious body is suspended by an electron fluid inside a zen-pod on Earth, she begins thinking of how ignorantly meddling with spiritual energies could lead to an alternate form of a pre-dystopian singularity for mankind, however, all her worries are immediately calmed by ideations of a Christ she’s never known. A device connecting the third eye’s pineal to the labyrinth of her inner ears projects different realities relative to her present thought and emotion. This dissolves her conscience into the extract of her imagination, and in an instant, she conceives an impression of the Last Supper.
The ambiance here is in a perpetual state of trance-euphoric enchantment. All saints, prophets, random good-doers, and liberated entities … feast on quanta energies from light and antimatter, birth and rebirth, force and balance, and as they bombard each other to the tuning of her imagination … they party like hell!
A momentary thought on the harmony of good and evil briefly disrupts her experience as the zen-pod vibrates; The devil thereafter appears as the silhouetted self of the Christ she now vaguely understands. He holds the neck of his Celtic harp above the tip of his horns, then crushes it onto the eternal space of subconscious mind matter. This breaks out an ethereal vibration that consequently wakes Najma from her deep sleep.
Part III:
AN INCARNATE SELF
The Age of Enlightenment dawns on the waking sun, an intense lucidity entangles her shamanic sense with an innate, but incomprehensible truth. A frail young girl walks out of a shared female’s mud-thatched hut in a confused haze and knocks on her big brother’s hut to question what it was she experienced this time in her dream. It is pre-colonial Africa, and he is still a priest in training.
“Naanjima! The Saharan Gods bore us no produce this season …and because your body is weak from starvation, your mind is now in empty, timeless, devoid space.”
Image: Boiling red liquid bubbling and spitting from Pixabay.com
literally stories 
Jacob
There is something three o’clock in the morning to this little read that will always be with it. Colorful and unrestrained, a bit of a challenge yet it grabs your attention.
Leila
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Yin yoga is best practiced at about that time
The dark silence of the outer world bestabsorbs from the limitless bounds of the inner
Ahsante
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The main thing that I took from this is the confidence with which it is written. The style is clear and the prose is straightforward and yet the content is otherworldly and fantastic. It works really well. I am not a huge fan of fantasy but this certainly impressed me. thank you – dd
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I should doubt that this is fantasy albeit spiritually speculative.
I thought its prose dense, its cooling to know it comes out clear too.
I am glad to have made a good impression.
Ahsante
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Hi Jacob,
I took this as a sort of near death type situation and due to hunger, she was shown what she was shown. Maybe she wouldn’t wake from her next sleep and would be re-born???
Intriguing!
Hugh
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When the body hungers, the Spirit voids that emptiness into the black spot of the unbounded.
Light is a paradox
Ahsante
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A bit of a jolt to start the week with! But like a strong cup of coffee it gets the motor running with all sorts of imaginative sparks shooting off in assorted directions. Good stuff!
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Jacob
I was intrigued by the way this tale connected futurity to history, or the past to a time that is on its way, through vivid language and surrealistic, archetypal imagery. This story does a great job of not explaining itself, letting the details of the situation and characters speak for themselves. The imagination in this story is like a relatable dream, and the words are as clear as a mountain stream. This story has impact and drama and a certain kind of hauntingness. The ending is especially effective but one realizes too that it could not exist without the rest of the tale, which is one sure-fire sign of a well-made story, literally. Great work! Your bio is also inspiring. It’s just as creative as your story, which is a rare thing.
Dale Barrigar
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Weird, imaginative and (I think) philosophical. The author’s bio is a good read, too. Quite a start to the week!
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Awsome David
Glad to kow this started your week although on such a tone 😄
I like how you found it weird
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Jacob
I spent a lot of time in Hell’s Kitchen in NYC, with plenty of asshole dudes. Just no passerby behemoths and few visiting heathens from heaven. Yet this was a totally fun read. — gerry
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I Love This comment 😄
Hope to one day come to NY
Thank you Gerry
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That was one bad trip, man. Went straight to hell. The first few paragraphs reminded me of seventies discos and lava lamps, I felt like ordering a rum and coke. Intriguing ending.
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As others of said, not a genre I’d generally go for, but the rich prose and imagery are genuinely impressive.
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Thank you very much Mr.Paul
Am ironically thinking its more like dark comedy as a genre
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