Hell Messenger

Hell Messenger 

The weather wasn't too hot, with the sun dimming as noon approached. I remember, dressed in my favorite summer outfit, I made my way to the open field of Rosnouveo—cutting through the bushes, stepping on the pale bronze-colored reeds. Even from afar, the tree leaves resembled green, yellow, and orange jewels, swayed by the wind, falling, and scattering as far as my eyes could see.

Crossing the bridge, I saw the river flowing rapidly. The bridge I crossed was dilapidated, yet never collapsed, made from a row of teak, connecting two flat landscapes lush with green grass.

If only, at that time, before I saw it—by God, I shouldn’t have gone there, I should have just passed by indifferently, ignoring its call—perhaps this curse wouldn't have befallen me. It was just a moment after my feet landed on the other side of the landscape when I realized that the temple I liked, which was slightly farther away, had a small and cute figure; someone was there!

I hurried from my place, entering the path, cutting through the bushes, and arrived in front of the temple. I hadn't entered yet and hadn't called out her name; because she was still praying devoutly before Lord Gaullle, and I wasn't worthy of disturbing someone in worship.

It seemed this woman was aware of my presence, and she quickly finished her prayer, stood up, and slowly turned around. Almost naked; her clothes were tattered, revealing the curves of her body and lower area, her skin was white, her cheeks flushed red but her face remained expressionless. With that appearance, atop her head was tangled straw adorned with a headpiece that was hard to find, shaped like a Crown of Thorns, though it wasn't the Crown of Thorns I meant, rather one that's hard to describe!

Honestly, I found it difficult to speak to her, especially with her appearance being beyond my expectations,—

"Miss—" I called, summoning the courage, "If you—"

"You can leave,—" she responded, cutting off my sentence.

"What? I should be the one saying that! Look at your appearance, you look very indecent!" I insisted.

The woman looked down, observing her appearance, then looked back up at me; "You should leave quickly!" she repeated, "You should be the one to leave quickly!"

I took a deep breath, trying to control my emotions.

"I will leave after you do!" I said diplomatically, raising my voice—reflexively due to the sight of her curves which, oh my, were indecent.

She stared at me for a moment; her innocent face really made it hard for me to avoid her gaze, her eyes intense with a beautiful black hue under the crown of thorns...

"Come on, what are you waiting for? Hurry and go!" I said once again—

She didn't stay, instead, she shook her head, turned back to the statue of Lord Gaullle, and positioned her arms in prayer. Not long after, she bent over—revealing something I shouldn't have seen, and I quickly turned away,—when I looked back at her face, she had turned back to face me. Her arm was extended, and since my view was close to her palm, I could see the bruises still healing on her fingers and the back of her hand... I thought and was confused: "What kind of fool would want to hurt this beautiful woman? With those kinds of wounds, there must be more on her body! Oh my, it seems times of suffering and despair have visited her more often than others."

"Take this!" she requested, pulling me out of my thoughts about what had happened to this girl and bringing me back to her face...

This time, putting aside her tattered and revealing appearance that exposed her curves, I smiled and asked in a softer and lighter tone: "What is this?" before looking down at it. It was a book, its edges not very appealing while the cover was so old it had wrinkled. I extended my arm, took it, and looked back at her face.

"You must read it now;" her thin smile was visible though partly hidden by some strands of hair. "But don't open the second chapter," she continued, glancing at the unremarkable book cover, "Because that is forbidden,—those who disobey usually meet with misfortune."

"Then why are you giving this to me? So, you're wishing misfortune upon me?" I said, in a joking tone,—

She didn't laugh,—I sighed,—obeying her request,—and began reading from the opening verse, where it read:

"There is no reason for humans to be created other than a series of events; and no reason for anyone to be worshiped unless the Devil commits vile acts!"

"Thus, two worlds were created to unite, but one world prevented the other from entering each other, due to a barrier, an intermediary, and a King."

"If the intermediary disappears; both are lost and forgotten, and there is no reason for the King to maintain what is forgotten."

As I read it, several thin voices repeatedly echoed in my mind, sounding like no human voice I had ever heard anywhere... and, after ensuring my eyes stopped at the end of the first chapter, my brain arranged those voices into the following sequence:

"You better stop!"

"You've gone too far!"

"He's sending you a warning!"

"You must stop now!"

These whispers suddenly made me realize, and I stopped at the last sentence of the first chapter. It read, "Because I dreamed of a sign," which sounded ominous and would lead to a long complication.

A surprising thing happened just as I almost read the second chapter, which began with a series of dialogues on the paper, when I was about to glance at it, suddenly, quickly, the woman grabbed part of the paper and pulled it away from me, lifting it into the air. My eyes became fixated, between the ragged, disheveled book with its soft and hairy sentences, and then her crown of thorns made of polished bones, mutilated, sharpened, and arranged into a perfect Crown of Thorns,—

I made no effort to retrieve the book; after all, the narrative wasn't well-constructed and lost value... but, in my heart, despite the turmoil and constant effort to suppress it, I couldn't deny that I was still curious about the second chapter, and my heart agreed with my mind, that I had to see it,—

"Enough, now, leave!" the woman announced.

"That's it? I don't even know what 'Hell's Messenger' means..."

"You already know more than enough." The woman added, frowning; "And no soul—no one wants to see the second chapter!"

The woman lowered the book, closed the cover, and carried it like a shopping bag. Her expression was still wrinkled, sullen, and half-angry for reasons unknown to me, even though I had just seen her sweet smile.

"If I leave, will I find the meaning of 'Hell's Messenger'?" I demanded, unaware that I had turned away from her face and stared at the book's cover.

"Look!" the woman announced.

I looked up.

"What?"

"You're already drawn to this?" She lifted the book briefly before lowering it again.

"Your head follows wherever this book goes—" she explained.

"So what? The book isn't even good!" I retorted, getting angry again but still staring at the book cover...

"This is what's dangerous..." she said calmly, "that's why I'm going to burn it!"

"What!"

"I've spent time here," she began to explain, and I listened, "not just to play around like a mad person. The shamans in the city held a meeting a week ago,—this book," she glanced at the book, "has given refuge to a messenger!" She looked back at me. After that, the woman descended a few steps and stood in front of me. She measured up to my shoulder; I was 175 cm tall. Up close, her face looked more porous and pale, red, and sweaty... how long had she been at the temple? All night? Or all day? Because the glare of the sun made her look like a prophet, I stared at her without saying anything, ready to listen to her sermon that sounded like the chirping of sparrows and the whistling of the wind.

"Because you—I saw it clearly,—yes, this book is captivating, and, binding! Enslaving would be a more precise term... though this is a sin, but, well, at first, I didn't believe the shamans, but you clearly showed it through your actions...

"This book is actually empty, the careless messenger is the one who diligently wrote its contents—he placed a binding spell on the first chapter, a guide for a summoning ritual in the second chapter, and as for the third chapter and beyond, when the victim is fully enchanted, with each word read; the careless messenger in this book begins to gradually place his consciousness into the victim's body, and without realizing it, the victim's soul and spirit have swapped places, and the careless messenger will live in the human world again!"

"So—"

"You've been captivated—" The woman interrupted, then explained; "don't worry, I've been watching you and haven't lost focus... and that's why I didn't lose focus when you were about to read the second chapter."

Realizing this, I suddenly felt disoriented, disheveled, and no longer pure... a spark of magic resided somewhere in my body, shaping me unconsciously... It seems the woman noticed my anxiety,—because not long after, her left arm lifted and gently caressed my cheek, instantly turning my face red, and after feeling better, I asked her to lower her arm.

The woman reopened her book; then, one by one, she kept turning the pages—ignoring the verses and every line in each chapter—until she reached the final page. She raised the book high, her garment draping gently, and the book shielded her head from the sunlight!

"Do you hear it? The voice from Hell's Messenger?"

I looked up and stared at the underside of the book.

At first, I answered, "No—I don’t hear—"

But before I could finish my honest reply—because I truly heard nothing—suddenly, I heard a low, red groaning sound rumbling from an unknown direction—a sound that seemed lightly tortured, whining, and also calling. And as soon as I pinpointed the exact direction, which came from the book itself—that’s when I noticed that page after page, the cover, and its tattered cries, were burning and scorching!

In this utterly bewildering situation, I only then realized that it was the girl who set the book on fire... Her mouth constantly quivered as she chanted incantations—and when I looked up again, I also realized that several tongues of flame licked before bursting, then quickly sent burning embers onto her fingers and across her hands, causing blisters and leaving bruises!

What did I just witness? Something that shouldn’t exist in this world except in the visions of a mad person! And when her effort ceased, and the fire was no longer visible on its surface—I put my mind to work and shuddered as I thought: "How much effort has been made to destroy that little Hell?"