Hell Hath No Fury
Along with nightmares & voices, I had a hallucination when I was fifteen years-old, & the year that followed brought the most intense nightmares & delusions of my life.
“Madness is too glamorous a term to convey what happens to most people who are losing their minds… The word madness allows its users to celebrate the pain of its sufferers, to forget… there is a person in huge amounts of dull, ugly agony... Remember that when you’re at the point at which you’re doing something as desperate & violent as sticking your head in an oven, it is only because the life that preceded this act felt even worse. Think about living in depression from moment to moment, & know it is not worth any of the great art that comes as its by-product” (Elizabeth Wurtzel).
This voice in my head, this demon attacking my soul, this “king” attempting to overtake me, led to great insanity during tenth grade. I often awoke from nightmares with scratches on my face. Once there was a large blood smear on the baseboard by my bed; I have no idea what from. It was terrifying, to no longer be aware of the things I did or experienced. I literally felt crazy. More than once I wrote repeatedly on my notes at school Am I crazy Am I crazy Am I crazy am I crazy & I’m insane I’m insane I’m insane I’m insane & I want the end I want the end I want the end.
A couple weeks before tenth grade began, in August of 2008, I had an intense visual & auditory hallucination of “hell” & its evil beings & happenings. I wrote a four-page description of the scenes & their details, but in summary it was, without doubt, the most terrifying event I’ve ever witnessed. This “vision” was the most surreal, extraordinary, horrific thing I’ve ever experienced. Here’s a peek into my hallucination:
“I stare out of the giant living room window, but I do not see outside; I see hell. Hands clammy & lips quivering, I am confronted with the appearance & emotions of a hypothetical religious place of condemnation known as hell.
“I feel indescribable fear. Every horror imaginable becomes reality. It seems nothing could worsen yet things grow more & more terrifying & horrific. Reality is literally a never-ending nightmare. All I can think of is this inescapable, haunting fear. I run to flee it only to discover that it is in front of me, its intensity doubled. It’s like an enclosed room with no doors or windows or openings of any kind, & it’s on fire. The scorching flames lick at my heels before maliciously pouncing upon my helpless body, but neither me nor the room burn up; it just continues forever & ever. I feel helpless as I pace within that boxed-in, burning room.
“To complete the eerie portrayal of this huge fire, dub-in screams of fear, sorrowful wailing, hopeless moaning, bellowing of immense pain, outburst of shouting with hateful words spewing along with threats of violence. There is no sun; the only light in this grim place comes from the flickering flames.
“Imagine all of this chaos, from the horrid feelings to the raging flames, & add faceless people running around, without rest, their hands raised as if trying to surrender to their enemy who desires no peace for them. They are the ones yelling, shouting, screaming, wailing, crying.
“Besides me, to my right, stands Satan; to his right stands king demon, though I know him not yet by name. He is the force that has been haunting me for a year, since high school began & depression set in. They are here in a physical form out of the corner of my eye, but no description can ever be clear. They’re not even human. How then could I ever clearly describe something or someone that I see in my mind? Nonetheless, I shall try.
“Satan & king are unlike humans in that they don’t have a definite form or shape. They are merely shadows & quick glimpses out of my peripheral vision.
“Satan is a burly form with a deep, menacing laugh & a low, gravelly voice. His form is large yet defined. His stature resembles a statue: big but not gigantic. But, because he’s Satan, he changes his form; this is merely how I see him right now. Out of the very edge of my eyesight, I see him. When I turn my head to see him clearer, his figure is still the same in the corner of my eye. He is unchanged as if he’d moved backwards, yet he hasn’t moved at all. The shadow he casts on what appears to be a floor is like a puddle of blackness within a thick, gray blanket of evil smoke.
“He speaks through my thoughts. His words are obscure but his message is still fairly clear. He welcomes me to the home he’s worked so hard to create: a fiery pit filled with his prisoners of fear & hate & despair. Satan looks upon it all, gratification seeping into his bellow of unearthly, deep chuckles.
“Chills race up my spine. I freeze in fear. I feel captive to this place & its wicked owner. Without turning his head, & without looking at me, Satan’s eye pierces my soul & sight. I only see one eye, although he may have two like humans, or maybe even more on his featureless face. It is so indescribable, so threatening, so scary. The only imagine I might compare it to is the all-seeing eye from The Lord of the Rings. I love the trilogy, but I shall never watch the movies again & view it the same way. It’s a single eye, aflame, always moving, constantly looking around, not attached to anything. It exists alone, backed by a blank of nothingness. It is pure evil. Satan is boss of this evil zone, & his speech & his figure & his haunting stare reflect this fact.
“King demon, however, is revealed in a form that shows the hierarchy of that place; he is lowlier than Satan. His figure appears featureless merely because he is barely more than a dark, shadowy being my mind sees His form also shows his characteristics that I’ve already seen through his association with me. His figure is taller than Satan’s; he rises up indefinitely. He stands higher than any sky scraper here on earth. His wispy, ghost-like appearance causes him to not arise directly vertically; rather, he rises like a windy string that curves up sporadically, like a snake slithering skyward, or like a lost balloon ascending. He is a misty figure, thin & wispy like a ghost. He is a dark shadow cast from above, like the gloom of rain clouds. His mocking laugh reveals his low, sinister voice that is fairly quiet yet low, deep, & firm.
“This misty figure is quite different from Satan’s burly shadow: Satan’s form reveals boldness, while king demon’s figure is a sly one that hides in the darkness of deception until the right moment to pounce heavily upon his prey.
“The vision finally ends. I am sweating profusely, so I change shirts. I find it difficult to shake off what I’ve seen, as well as this lingering sense of evil. I nibble on a piece of extremely sweet candy, yet it tastes bitter to the core” (14 August 2008; age 15).
This & another experience frightened my best friend, who explained the situations to his parents who, concerned, called my parents, who grounded me for two weeks. I wrote, “Now I feel more alone than ever.”
Despite being treated as such, I sought answers from my parents & their beliefs. Fervent in their commitment to Christianity, they explained that the devil attacks those with great potential, so the terrible things I was experiencing should be taken as a compliment, & that I would find peace if I read the Bible & prayed to Jesus.
I pursued it as they said, yet my insanity continued.
“Before I reach the water fountain, I taste the bitterness of blood in my mouth. I rinse it out with water, but no blood is found. The bitter taste lingers in my mouth like smoke after a fire has been put out. It drives me crazy, & I am weak in my insanity” (August 2008; age 15).
I thought I must be something very evil if Jesus was not answering & a demon was allowed to plague me so brutally, borderlining on possession.
Over the months of searching for answers from Christianity, I more deeply accepted the answer my parents provided—not because I found peace in Jesus or His words, but because I began to view myself as superior to others: I was chosen for such trials; the greater the trials, the greater the purpose, & the greater the end achievement; therefore, I must be great, especially greater than all my peers who have not been chosen in such a way!
This evolution of thought fed my delusions. I wanted this pain to mean something. As Elizabeth Wurtzel wrote, “That is all I want in life: for this pain to seem purposeful.” I let my imagination go with the miraculous, earthshattering, revolutionary, mind-blowing, inspiring, wondrous event that this pain might conclude with, the end result of this wretchedly painful path, the conclusion of misery redeemed.
I began believing I could tell the future. My memory playing tricks on me, I went along with the game feeling powerful, confident, & superior. This began a very interesting time period for me, as dreams & random thoughts that almost seem like visions continue to flash before me & later come true. The rush was addicting. School seemed so childish compared to the fascinating happenings of my mind. Concentration proved challenging. I spent most of my time lost in thought or writing about this demon, these hauntings, those nightmares.
It was too intriguing not to be consumed by.