Buried Yet Breathing34.

An array of multiple colors shot out from their suspended cocoons, connecting one to the next, back to front. Like white fire and lightning, with as many variations of vibrant color as a rainbow, their paralysis seized them with no escape remotely possible. Evident on their faces, most tried to struggle but were met with brute restraint.

All of the peace keepers had since filed out, no longer needed as the electric cells did more than their job, save Haziel and Chamuel.

They strolled through the rows of prisoners, hands clasped behind their backs in a state of viable command. Reaching the back of the grand throne room, Chamuel addressed The Gathering.

“Remove thy defenses. You kneel naked. Fully exposed for all of your vile offenses.”
His voice reached a feverish pitch, bellowing a resounding call.

“View, now, your wretched lives! See, without your own thwarted and disconnected vision. Tapped in to what He has witnessed and myself alongside the Master. Swallow your blasphemous sin!!”

Encoded in their restraints, behind their eyes played out like a movie screen, documenting each individual’s life of wrongful choices. As children, young adults through an hour ago… all was accessible and in their face to see and repeatedly. Also, the walls in the grand throne room became giant screens, flashing lies, sex fantasies, deceitfulness, robbery and murder.

Peter began shaking as he was forced to view his horror reel, with scenes blending together and sped up in almost a slapstick format yet sinister as all hell, then some played out in extreme slow motion. Up close visions of his hands decapitating women and children mere moments before arriving here. His cold, calculated death parade mirrored the deepest of evil living in him, accentuated by the shrieks of onlookers trying to protect those around them.

Peter struggled to watch the sick brutality and his eyes shifted to the screens around him, though unable to move his neck or face.

Blood and torture was everywhere. His eyes wouldn’t close; an imposed paralyses kept them open. The weight of his misdeeds were too much. Like others amidst they’re own life’s shame episode, he cried out for mercy. “No more. Please! Forgive me! Please! No more!”

Other shrieks were audible, as their bodies vibrated and clenched, somehow baring their own evil actions.

“God, please!!”


“I’m sorry! Make it stop!”

“We are sorry!”

Savannah, a row behind Peter, was living out her worst nightmares but with its own twist, for the visions she was induced to view also included her father with scenes of molestation. Tied in with them, visuals played out of her own fantasies of the myriad of brutal ways she wanted to torture him, in pay back for his heinous and callous sins against her. Blood welled up in her tear ducts and would have poured out, had it been possible, for the restraints left their eyes without duct access, as they needed to see the madness.

She felt like her head was exploding as the visions intensified. Watching the lives she took by the bodies she invaded for the first time was unbearable and she did everything in her power to look away. But without any control, her gaze remained fixed on the vicious calamities caused by her hand and her heart. Though clouded and unresponsive at the time, she now took the full impending weight of her darkest day, and it killed her by the second.

Chamuel and Haziel stood at the front of the grand room, watching these lost souls in the purest form of torture they would ever inflict.

No joy or honor was taken by these two mighty Peace Keepers; they took no enjoyment from the scene surrounding them. Merely a disciplinary tool that would never be forgotten and that will rehabilitate them as though they stood before God himself on judgement day.

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