I proceeded to walk cautiously towards the towering obsidian gate. My 7 month voyage to Hell was finally coming to a close. But my real journey had just begun. 7 months ago, I was hired as a journalist for the world renowned broadcasting company WNN, or World News Network. This company specialized in reporting a variety of current events, whether it be above, on, or under the world itself. I had been recruited by the president of WNN to collect information from under the world, in other words Hell. WNN had exclusive connections with the dominant demons in Hell, and therefore they were able to acquire a one-way trek to the place of the condemned. The only downfall of this deal was that the trip took more than half a year to complete, as underground
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A single snow-capped mountain stood in the middle of the terrain; the colossal structure stood out prominently against the frosted field. Smaller mountains encircled it. I quickly noticed the solitude Napoleon, his petite height made him easily recognizable. He was dragging his feet against the sludgy snow, and a loud sloshing noise could be heard from his lethargic tread. With Aristotle by my side, I unhurriedly walked towards Napoleon. He was only a small distance away. Once I neared him, I saw that he was wearing his traditional French military uniform in navy blue and red. But he was left unarmed; there were no swords or muskets by his side.
Napoleon looked very anemic, so I asked him, “What’s wrong?”
Napoleon jerked his head upward, as if noticing me for the first time. He had a wild look in his eyes. “My head. My mind. It has been plagued with multiple images of people and life, but I can never think of myself,” stated Napoleon in a deep raspy voice. “I am in unbearable pain.”
Napoleon grabbed his head with his hands. He knelt on the snow-coated ground and shook his head, seemingly to get rid of the thoughts.
“Why does he seem so weak?” I asked …show more content…
“HOW DARE YOU?” barked Napoleon. “But sadly, this is all true,” he acknowledged. “I spend all of my time thinking about all the good I have done for France; I completely disregard the harm I have done to others. I understand that I am very selfish and conceited; please forgive me for this. What must you know about me?”
“I am overjoyed in that you have recognized what you have done, Napoleon. How do you feel about your punishment?” I asked as I sat down on the chilly ground. “I am in intolerable pain,” he groaned. “Ever since I got here, I have felt significant soreness in my right arm. I am never able to control my thoughts or even myself anymore. Never have I ever felt such powerlessness.”
I quickly jotted down some notes in my notebook, making sure to not miss any crucial information.
“The sound of that utensil you are holding on that paper is very beautiful. No sounds are made in this place of mine. I miss the sound of my galloping stallions and the crack of my bullets being fired. Oh, why am I so weak and cowardly? I am so isolated here. I do not even have the wailing of the wind to comfort me or make me happy,” said
A single snow-capped mountain stood in the middle of the terrain; the colossal structure stood out prominently against the frosted field. Smaller mountains encircled it. I quickly noticed the solitude Napoleon, his petite height made him easily recognizable. He was dragging his feet against the sludgy snow, and a loud sloshing noise could be heard from his lethargic tread. With Aristotle by my side, I unhurriedly walked towards Napoleon. He was only a small distance away. Once I neared him, I saw that he was wearing his traditional French military uniform in navy blue and red. But he was left unarmed; there were no swords or muskets by his side.
Napoleon looked very anemic, so I asked him, “What’s wrong?”
Napoleon jerked his head upward, as if noticing me for the first time. He had a wild look in his eyes. “My head. My mind. It has been plagued with multiple images of people and life, but I can never think of myself,” stated Napoleon in a deep raspy voice. “I am in unbearable pain.”
Napoleon grabbed his head with his hands. He knelt on the snow-coated ground and shook his head, seemingly to get rid of the thoughts.
“Why does he seem so weak?” I asked …show more content…
“HOW DARE YOU?” barked Napoleon. “But sadly, this is all true,” he acknowledged. “I spend all of my time thinking about all the good I have done for France; I completely disregard the harm I have done to others. I understand that I am very selfish and conceited; please forgive me for this. What must you know about me?”
“I am overjoyed in that you have recognized what you have done, Napoleon. How do you feel about your punishment?” I asked as I sat down on the chilly ground. “I am in intolerable pain,” he groaned. “Ever since I got here, I have felt significant soreness in my right arm. I am never able to control my thoughts or even myself anymore. Never have I ever felt such powerlessness.”
I quickly jotted down some notes in my notebook, making sure to not miss any crucial information.
“The sound of that utensil you are holding on that paper is very beautiful. No sounds are made in this place of mine. I miss the sound of my galloping stallions and the crack of my bullets being fired. Oh, why am I so weak and cowardly? I am so isolated here. I do not even have the wailing of the wind to comfort me or make me happy,” said