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Quote by Suzanne Wright

“A lot of people who are straight-shooting…they’re only happy to be so blunt when talking about others. They’re not so upfront about who they are, what flaws they have, and what their issues are.”

Quote by Suzanne Wright

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Taste of Torment

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Suzanne Wright

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“Welcome to Hell!” His voice boomed, the deep bass tone making the ground beneath their feet rumble and shake. Luc knew they could feel it in their bones. “You all know why you’re here, so we won’t waste a lot of time explaining. You’ve been very, very naughty in your lives, and now you get to spend the rest of eternity here. With me.” He watched them take in his words, horror painted on their faces, screams echoing around the room as they shuffled farther away from him, the ones at the front clearly wishing they could just sink into the ground and disappear. “No need to be shy. I’m not gonna hurt you,” Luc cooed. He gave them a few precious moments to relax a tiny bit before grinning. “I have people for that.” He turned to Zorun to see if he liked the joke but got nothing but an eye roll from his second-in-command. Rude. “Okay, we need to be fast and organized.” Luc dropped the act, waving the clipboard and his colorful sticky notes in the air. “You’ll be divided by sin and sent with your group leader to the appropriate level. Your pain tolerance assessment starts in half an hour. You’ll be tested for various forms of torture, and then the most suitable one will be chosen for you. If you disagree with your torture method, you can fill out a form and appeal within two weeks. You will be reassessed if need be.”

“War isn’t hell. Hell is hell and war is war. One is deliberate the other indiscriminate. In all cultures who lean towards religiosity, they all have a place of reward and another of damnation and punishment. Hell, Hel, Jehenam, anyone who’s there know why they’re there and that they deserve it. Hell is very specific when it comes to those who reside within its domain.” “War on the other hand, cares for naught. No one is safe, no one is natural, everyone is a victim-in-waiting, and every shot fried, every bomb dropped is indiscriminate as to who it hits. Hell is a realm of punishment and specificity. War a realm of utter madness. It’s place where morality can be casually abandoned if too inconvenient. Where God and the devil turn a blind eye to brutality and violence.” “War, Agent Moli, is a failure of civilisation. Because once we commit to it, we’ve effectively said that reason has failed, and violence is only the solution to resolve our arguments. The gods are blind, and all is permitted under the sun.” Moli took his hand in her and squeezed. “I know,” she said softly. “Yeah, I could tell,” said Ben. “Your eyes...they tell of one who has been bodies piled high as mountains.” “They do?” Ben nodded. “I fear...that you can’t go back to being the woman you once were. You live in a different world now. You know the price of freedom and that blood is a very costly currency.” Moli soaked in those words. Then closed her eyes. She nodded as the tears ran down her face.”

“It is really most absurd to wish to turn this scene of misery into a pleasure spot and set ourselves the goal of achieving pleasures and joys instead of freedom from pain, as so many do. Those who, with too gloomy a gaze, regard this world as a kind of hell and, accordingly, are only concerned with procuring a fireproof room in it, are much less mistaken. The fool runs after the pleasures of life and sees himself cheated; the sage avoids evils. But if even this should fail, then it is the fault of fate, not of his foolishness. However, insofar as he succeeds, he has not been cheated; for the evils that he evades are very real. Even if he should have gone too far in avoiding them and unnecessarily sacrificed enjoyments, nothing is really lost; for all pleasures are chimerical, and to mourn over missing out on them would be petty, indeed ridiculous.”

“Unbeknown to her, that Louisiana background secretly intimidated my urgency to drop to a knee and produce a ring. Or maybe, I wanted to see her raise a chicken from the dead. Rumors had assured me, her tribe was capable of voodoo, spells, and such. Well, those were my on-going issues toward matrimony. But on the other hand, Deya couldn’t wait to meet the kin folks. Yes, I knew what visions of family meant to her, butsadly, I wasn’t it. Still, I had to risk her involvement as a potential rope out of hell.”