The heartbeat–his, yet, only in ambiance–muffled the oncoming carriers of torches. The flames breached the horizon as Mike felt the heat long before due. The darkness was now giving way to the subtle glow, but calefaction was intensifying. Mike observed the skin on his arms as they started to boil and bubble. He felt hell approaching.
One wink. Michael was surrounded by skeletal horses driven by uninhabited figures. Soulless. Empty. They carried torches of roaring fire that created the same light the angel had emitted. He couldn’t escape the heat–it was melting the flesh from his bones. He was in agony, but not dying. He had no form, but existed.
The figures came in troves. He could hear the screaming of the horses in immeasurable numbers as they galloped through his place within the chaos. His exterior heartbeat was becoming louder than the sound of the mayhem, and all of his thoughts–from all of his time–seemed to happen within moments. Many thoughts and memories of the good in Mike’s life were envisioned, then quickly disrupted by shadowy figures. It seemed as though the little bit of joy he had experienced throughout his life was now being destroyed by the same sod figures before him. All hindsight, now shattered by their hellish ravage.
Michael heard a distant voice calling his name in a gasping manner. Before him stood the burning remains of his father with the empty eyes like those of the figures.
“You will be with us!”
All that Mike could make out of his uninterrupted language was his name and the short phrase. The rest seemed to be animal-like sounds, and a language he didn’t know. The fire covered the entirety of all he could sense.
Just as sudden as he had passed out, he awoke.