I woke up in a box – Part 9

I just want to remind everyone that “After the zombies” is free until 19 July. To find out more

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Now, back to my box story/poem.

Here are the usual links to catch up if you’ve missed any

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

PART SEVEN

PART EIGHT


 

The pain became less noticeable the further I ran across the fiery path of hell. It was still present, but I think that after a while the body must get used to it, if it doesn’t die first. Something was keeping me alive, if alive is the right word to use. I couldn’t help wondering whether the devil did know if I was there. Of course he must have done. I was in his lair. I don’t think anyone gets into the devil’s lair without his knowledge or permission.

The sound of my feet slapping against the ground rang louder in my ears the deeper into hell I went, and the smell of my own burning flesh was nauseating. A chunk of my arm flesh dropped onto the floor, leaving the bone in my arm on display. I carried on running, convinced that even if the devil knew I was there, I could somehow outrun him.


 

Day seven, I can smell the burning

Of my own flesh and

Hear the slap slap noise

Of my tattered feet

Running through Satan’s lair

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