"Who are you?" "I AM VOID... I AM NOTHINGNESS... I AM YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE... I AM THE WINGED MAN WITH THE TEETH OF A DOG... I FOAM AT THE MOUTH. I HAVE BEEN CONDEMNED TO FOAM AT THE MOUTH FOR ALL ETERNITY." --Phantoms

They were coming for him, trying to take him away. Again.

He was hiding... Hiding in an old, broken church. But everyone knows that you can't hide from God, especially not in his own house. Oh no. He'll find you, seek you out, no matter where you are, no matter how fast you try to run. And then he'll catch you, oh yes, send his angels after you and make you pay for all the bad things you've done... Throw you to rot in Hell with the demons and child molesters and serial killers for all eternity.

Everything was blurry, blurry like the sky when it is hot. Hot as Hell, scorching like Satan. His body was poised in midair, suspended on the wills of these ambassadors of God, these angels sent to repent him for all his transgressions, for his disloyalty toward the heavenly father...

They beckoned him by name now... Crying out, wailing like a foghorn in a shipyard, or a coyote beneath the moon, yet it was none other than Satan's voice, and he need not even open his eyes, yet he knew the truth now. He was damned, lost forever... A life of service could never make up for the man he could never be, and the warbling of the Pit now rang and pounded away at his brain.

Blue boy... He remembered the big kids at the circus, how they would call him that...

Kurt tried to scream, to beg for mercy, but he found his throat as dead and dry as a New Mexican creek, and that this new light, this unholy, hateful light shined in his eyes now, blinding him... He was damned...There was no hope for him now...

Slowly but surely, he sensed himself melt away, drawing into the void that had appeared, a black hole with nothing down it but death... It would only be fair, for he did not deserve any Heaven...

The last of his essence was swallowed by the darkness...

He couldn't breath, couldn't think, couldn't see... He felt the nothingness of it all, of his pitiful, pointless existence, fogging up his lungs like the windows of a polish bathhouse.

BAM!

A door slammed...Footsteps echoed in the distance, and suddenly, the red mist of death was gone. He could hear voices, mixtures of words and sounds spoken clearer and clearer, lucid as the voice of an angel...Of a silver bell...

"KURT!"

Someone was shaking him, trying to kill him....

He woke up screaming!