“What time...is it.”

“Where am I”

“What am I….”

The myriad of questions echoed through the empty hallways of Purgatorio. It is a normal sight. Time, Space, Life, Death….Purgatorio does not register such concepts.

Purgatorio does have an ‘end’, that is, the Den of the Judge. The den of the Judge is where such concepts come back to existence. Of course, the Judge returns such concepts to judge the inhabitants of Purgatorio. For the Judge, he treats Purgatorio as a waiting room for souls to be judged.

One such soul, a man formerly known as Andreyev, who inhabited Purgatorio for ten years, but he did not feel it. Time does not exist in Purgatorio. Until this moment.

“■■■■■”

He heard a call being made in a language he does not recognize, nay, the language does not sound like any human language. But his soul prompted him to walk into the call. As he understood later on, the language is the language of the Gods, that the human soul understood, but not the brain.

As Andreyev walks towards the end of the hallway, his sense of time, space, life, and death returns. He had realized that ten years have gone by since his death. He reached the double door at the end of the hallway, where he looked at the angels guarding it. The angels' form looked off for Andreyev, as they looked more like skeletal remains of human beings, plastered with angel wings, halos, human eyes inscribed on skulls, and floating rings circling around their arms. To him, they looked like mannequins in a costume parlour.

“■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■■■■■” The angel on his left announced, while opening the door. Andreyev finds it strange that afterwards, the angel made an old-school chivalric gesture of letting him in. He guessed that the angel had seen Andreyev’s mind and felt that he was frightened, and needed a warm welcome.

Andreyev entered the Den where he finds a throne made up of skeletal remains, though they were meticulously crafted that it forms a rather regal throne, akin to the old Russian czars. Red-colored velvet graced the entire room, with black being the primary color of the Den. Purple and brown also graced the room, with fancy British-styled interiors wearing the colors, while draping it with skulls and roses. The den looks like the settlement of a British royalty.

The feeling of it all culminated in the figure on the throne himself. It is a God, in the form of a human being. This man is presumably The Judge. One thing that Andreyev has caught from his glimpse of the Judge was pure sadness. His sickly-looking face, crumpled with wrinkles, with double eyebags brings him an image of a perpetually melancholic old man, with his shark-shaped eyes and slanted eyebrows giving him the look of perpetual anger.

The face is packaged with wavy red hair. Beautiful, yet pitiful, Andreyev thought, but his clothing washed away Andreyev’s melancholic thoughts of the Judge. A long leather coat, filled with tight belts hugged the Judge’s body, but the coat itself looked skimpy, as it allowed the Judge to walk with his thighs and back exposed. Am I meant to find him pitiful or….attractive? Andreyev thought to himself. Certainly not the romantic and erotic kind of attractive, but the kind that makes you drawn to him. I feel that I should either pity him or be drawn to him. But he is beautiful. Like a melancholic bride.

‘Beauty’ was the word that Andreyev’s mind had conjured. The Judge’s form did not frighten him, nor did he inspire any forms of rebellious thoughts. He does not look authoritative somehow. To Andreyev, he looked like a groom-less bride in grief, being left alone in the altar. As the thought conjures up, a vision flashes to his brain.

Andreyev sees the man clad in a beautiful Bridal dress. White dress that covered his torso, and yet, exposed his startlingly-thick thighs, only veiled with a thin petticoat. His hair now becomes startlingly-long wavy hair, clad in veil.

Of course, it might be an illusion, but it looked real. Somehow, Andreyev sees the Judge wearing his coat and the bridal outfit at the same time. He registered both of them as truth.

“■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■■” A skeletal angel announced to the Judge, however this time, Andreyev was able to comprehend what it was saying, “A nothing person, your honor”

The Judge walked into Andreyev, and the only thing that permeated Andreyev’s mind was that the Judge was surprisingly shorter than him. The Judge must’ve been a tight five foot nine. Another thing he had noticed is that the Judge seemed to be wearing nothing underneath his coat. Andreyev’s vision still sees the Judge as both the pitiful old man and the beautiful bride.

“Ten years….” the Judge began to speak. Andreyev felt a rush of emotions in his soul. The Judge’s voice sends Andreyev into a divine jolt. “Nothing is a long wait in Purgatorio….”

The Judge’s posh, gravelly voice felt like honey, mixed with acid and red wine, that produces an authoritative, yet heavenly sonorous quality. the Judge puts the palm of his right hand onto his left shoulder, and closes his eyes. The Judge’s face, for Andreyev, now turns into a look of mourning. As the Judge inspects Andreyev, he felt a stream of thorns locking into the Judge’s legs. Roses began to bloom. The Judge’s outfit shifted into the bridal dress. My thoughts weren’t playing with me. It was real.

Long time had gone by, and the Judge’s face produced a single tear. The Judge’s tears dropped onto the fancy carpet, and immediately, the roses and thorns returned to its previous position. A strong gust of wind followed, and the windows of the Den opened to let the wind in. Andreyev felt two conflicting emotions —– fear and tranquility, at the same time. And then, everything stopped. the Judge returned to his stern look, and his black coat, with his hands now crossing on his shoulders.

“No grave deeds committed. You were indeed a nothing person” the Judge’s gravelly voice exclaimed to Andreyev. Immediately, Andreyev felt confusion. Is this the end of me?

“I do not understand….” Andreyev said to the Judge, “Am I going to permanently vanish?” he continued.

“You are to return to the mortal plane” the Judge continued, “Sandalphon, bring this soul to Shekhinah”

“Why must I return?” Andreyev questioned,

“You simply must” the Judge answered, “You were nothing. Fill that nothing, you shall”

“Nothing...?” Andreyev answered with a question. The Judge sighed, and turned his back on Andreyev.

“An answer will serve no point” the Judge answered. He stopped looking at Andreyev, “Begone” he continued, in a stern tone, but sprinkled with melancholy.

The Judge ordered an angel — presumably Sandalphon — to escort Andreyev. The angel looks like a human being, with a very long red hair, and an androgynous face, wrapped in exposed torso, with only his bottom parts covered.

As Andreyev leaves the den, he could not stop thinking of the Judge. As Andreyev looks back into the Judge, his vision turns into the Judge, clad in bridal outfit, standing upright. Questions filled Andreyev’s mind, such as why did the Judge shed a tear? And why did he decide to bring Andreyev back to Earth?

But most importantly….why did he see the Judge as a bride?

At the end of the Den, Andreyev glimpsed a possible hint to the answer. A faded name “Wilhelm von Strauss” was written on a sculpture. The sculpture depicts a middle-aged man, tied in rose thorns, kneeling, with his face full of sadness and grief. The sculpture remarkably resembled the Judge —– or was it truly him?

The sculpture strangely produces tears every minute. As he glimpses at the sculpture, he sees what the sculpture is crying over —– a fading image.* Essentially, it is crying over nothing.* *A person who faded into nothingness. A nothing person.

Was it his groom? Was the groom a nothing person? Andreyev thought to himself, as he remembered the Judge referring to him as a nothing person. Many implications rushed into Andreyev’s brain, but as he began to form his concrete thoughts on the ordeal of the Judge being a bride, he reached the end of the den. There was a door.

“Give up your inquiries on this ordeal, as it is useless” Sandalphon said as he opened the door. Immediately after stepping out from the den, Andreyev was cleansed. All memories, thoughts, emotions, even his own name…..was lost. Subsequently, his physical form began to disappear as his soul descended back into Earth.

He is reborn. No longer as a nothing person that he was.

#writetober #OCs #Sephirot #ThroneOfMalkuth #WinstonSmith #WilhelmVonStrauss #Purgatorio #edentrius #writing