Return Home

The Calling of the Spirits of the Underworld

by Brentley


The journey back was conquerable, yet our legs and brains had left us long before. Through the darkness we traveled endlessly, with the cool breeze guarding our limbs. We had provisions for a time- to be consumed viciously in our haze and stupor as we trembled- inching towards the end. The meat, cheese, and bread coated our teeth. We talked in-between breaths as we traveled, at times, seemingly lightning speed.

The crawling pace soon found its way into us through corruption of our spirits. One of our men needed to rest, he said. There was a warning said by another- "If you sit now, you will later find it difficult to continue." Sucking the energy from each other like a baby from its mother's warm and soft breasts, we gathered together our forces to rise from the pit of despair and anguish. The burning hatred inside us is what truly carried our legs from one step to the next. And now, continuing onward, our journey progressed into the eternal darkness. Downward we went, for what seemed to be a limitless span of time, into the depths of Hades. The cold bricks were riddled with small plaques of brass metal- on them, written the names of devils and other dark figures that were praised by the choirs of despair and ugliness. Spitting on them, one of our men was tired of the sight of such things. Downward, our feet took us further into the decline we approached so steadfastly now. The ruins of Hades were casting long, bluish shadows. Our own figures gave way to such shadowy figures in the eternal darkness. One looked to the left, and saw the sculptures of a Grecian style. One could just barely gather the pale color of the material they were composed of- within the bluish hue of the sparingly-lit underworld in which we transported ourselves through.

One of our men knew the way very well, and guided us through a couple forks. We now walked on exclusively dirt that formed a path. He had not traveled this way for some time, yet a good man never loses his way. Past a river of Hades we traveled. Lost souls reached out to us. We were invited in by many spirits. The glistening of the water in the low light was intoxicating and the scent of the moving water was fresh and clean. The movement of the water became another of our dear friends- along with the cold dry air of the night. In our endless haze of the night, we each found ourselves to be in need of a great fluid release. Stepping from the beaten path- we each emptied and refreshed ourselves a short ways away from where we walked. To our surprise and horror, such mechanized beasts began to rush past us. They must have not caught sight of us- these loud and vicious contraptions that breathe and push forward at great speeds were known to all to so mercilessly end the lives of any who cross its path. In the seeming clearness and relative security, we cautiously made our way back to the path.

Vicious spirits of the dark underworld seemed to haunt us at every corner- behind every outcropping of ruins and other things that were spread about. Our minds also created such figures out of the dark-bluish light which encompassed all. Our great awareness and sober attention to our surroundings was betrayed by the human minds that plagued us with the inherent inclinations toward irrationality and the need for ritualistic behavior. Striking images of shamanic figures dancing and drinking while nude in festival with many surrounding him came to us.

Unable to take breaths from the cold and suddenly intoxicating air of the underworld, our minds became filled with unstoppable visions that attacked us from all sides with endless anguish resulting thereof. All of us fell to the ground, covered in sweat, while trembling. Our vision escaped us and all we saw was endless darkness. Taking deep breathes- all of us- even lost the ability to THINK. The blood draining from our heads soon returned. Something so awfully disruptive to our previously regular composure and outward appearance had come. Our mouths and eyes were returning from a brainless look of wide-open unresponsiveness back to an appearance that resembled something alive. A tall, grand figure slowly approached. It seemed at first to be a large, shadowy man wearing a trench coat and hat with a long and circular brim. His shadow cast over us as our bodies laid in an asleep-like attack of pinching and buzzing while it also being extremely difficult to move our muscles even in the smallest of amounts. Approaching, he raised an arm that showed itself to be of entirely inhuman origin. Comparably, it was found to be pincer-like, with sharp edges coming out of it. He spoke, and to all of us, not a single phrase was understood. We had crossed into some other-worldly domain, and this was now apparent.

He lifted us with his pincers- my right arm, specifically, being crushed by the hard porcelain-like unforgiving crushing of his pincer. Each of us individually, lifted and tossed far away. Our unresponsive bodies took the impact like cuts of red meat slapping a floor from a high table.

We rose in a slow and maimed fashion from the dirt and rubble. Limping, we shouted as loud as we could to one another, which really were just quiet moans of despair. Soon we found one another and addressed the damages. One of our men was unable to walk any further without assistance. My right arm was mangled badly. Both bones in the forearm felt flattened. Another of our men had been most fortunate- he had been flung by both legs, and only suffered from minor bleeding and bruising.

Together we limped out of this alien territory. The lost souls of the realm whispered to us of endless suffering. We once again sucked the energy from each other- this time a more desperate form of energy. The fear of death was not with us, but the fear of our bodies lying forever within the underworld was a result of the sight of countless skulls and bones that littered alongside the path for the entire journey down here. Such an honorless death awaited us not, we thought. We spoke nothing of what we had seen. In fact, each of us were unsure if what we had seen was really true. In consideration of what happened, each of us gave honest thought to the possibility of that nightmare being just that- a nightmare.

Eventually making it out of that dark abyss was a slow and uneventful part of the journey. Coming upon an abandoned home surrounded by endless amounts of rubble and torn buildings, it seemed worthwhile to find a place to lay ourselves down for a time after that severe journey. As the other men lay, I write this now as account of what happened on our travels. The visions of the tall man have not escaped me. Forevermore am I haunted by this event, and with no one to tell it to.