Untitled Moody Short Story
The days unraveled into nights and the nights unraveled into nothingness as he huddled in the corner for fear of being taken away. Everyone and everything he knew, even those which he hated, disappeared before his very eyes. Even the darkness enveloping him seems to evaporate into a cruel, sensory deficit purgatory. Purgatory… neither Heaven nor Hell, simply an empty, hollow existence. Sometimes, he thought some archaic heathen of a god had answered his prayers. All he wanted was something to rid himself of the hollowness of this place: a window showing him the world still exists, or, more morbidly, one last cigarette to puff before Satan came and dragged him down into the very bowels of Hell. He'd even take a .09mm handgun and do the deed himself… thrust himself into Satan's open arms for all eternity. Anything would be better than this place.
Looking back, he thought there must be some reason why he's here. But why? Was it all those whores he fucked? The little Chinese boys he kidnapped, sodomized and then pretended to drive home only to, mere moments later, dump into the Bay and watch them slowly sink to the bottom of that salty outlet to the sea? Sometimes, while watching them fight for life, he imagined he was the one sinking, bound and gagged with duct tape, guaranteed not to survive the cold waters because of the 25 lb. bags of garden rocks secured to the burlap sack the boys were placed in wouldn't allow them to swim out. Hell, even if they did escape they'd have hypothermia even if they somehow, through the graces of God, reached sure. If any of those past digressions made him worthy of this attic-like purgatory, surely, that was the one. It had to be.