I Was in The Afterlife for Seventeen Minutes... Something…
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I Was in The Afterlife for Seventeen Minutes... Something Killed God.
I guess I’ll start with why I’m recording this . . . I’m sick of all the liars. They come out every few years. Someone comes back from a coma or gets revived on the operating table, they wait a few months and then they start saying they heard angels singing, met Jesus, felt the fabled “river of joy.” It’s all bullshit! They made it the fuck up! For attention? For money? I don’t know. Even worse is when parents convince their children to do it. What I think I hate the most, though, are pastors who pull this kind of crap. Believers act so oblivious to the glaring conflict of interest. Their confirmation bias is unreal. Ninety Minutes in Heaven? FUCK YOU! If that man spent even one minute in heaven, he would never read his bible again, or preach from the pulpit, telling people to rejoice and sing praises. Anyone trying to tell you about some golden utopia in the afterlife is lying! I was in the afterlife for seventeen minutes. Someone . . . something killed God.
My journey to the afterlife started out as someone else’s horror story. I was an ER nurse, and we had just received two new patients via airlift in critical condition. A woman in her mid-thirties and every nurse's worst nightmare, a little girl. The mother was drunk behind the wheel with her daughter in the backseat. She rolled the car six times, coming around a bend on a country highway. Their injuries were severe. We did everything we could, but there was so little we could do. In a little under an hour, they both succumb to their injuries.
The father arrived just moments after. It was clear that this was a dysfunctional family as he was obviously abusing substances. And I had to break the horrible news to him. Naturally, he was in shambles, but also angry; at us, as if the reason his wife and child were dead was that we just didn’t care enough. It's not an uncommon reaction. Who could really say their emotional intelligence would remain intact after hearing that their family was all gone? But he was particularly angry at me. I don’t know if it was because I was the one who told him or if assumed I was in charge because I was of the only male nurse in the ER; it wouldn’t surprise me. He tried to attack me and had to be escorted off the premises by security.
The next day I arrived at the hospital parking lot for another twelve-hour shift. I approached the entrance and the automatic doors slide open. As I walked in, another nurse was just leaving her overnight shift. I said hello, but she didn’t say anything. I saw it in her eyes. The disbelief, the shock and then the fear before she darted back inside. I whipped around just in time to see the angry father from the night before driving his car full speed directly at me. He must have been waiting for me. I had no time to react. He crashed through the entrance and hit me. Everything went black instantly.
It was dark; so dark that I didn’t even realize I was awake or even that my eyes were open. I only noticed when I started to feel the cold stone surface I was lying on. As I became increasingly more conscious, there seemed to be a faint light with no source rising in the room. I was wearing a white silk robe with frayed edges and dirty patches all over it; like some sort of luxurious hospital gown that someone had been neglecting. I was in a medieval looking chamber with cobble stone walls. Along each were long extinguished candle lamps that seemed to be made of faded gold. I sat up and looked around the floor which had nothing on it except for a few pieces of wood that had been smashed against the wall or maybe the floor with splinters all around them. I saw a large double arched doorway slightly open on the far side of the chamber. I slowly stood up, walked over to it and pushed the heavy door all the way open. On the other side was a long dark hall. There was no other way to go, so I slowly started walking.
I could only see about fifteen or so feet in front of me. The darkness was thick, like it was a substance I was wading through. Along the floor was a stained and torn purple carpet that had been ruffled and tossed to the side. Covering the floor were chunks and bits that had been knocked out of the stone walls. Hanging from the ceiling were mangled, lifeless chandeliers. As I walked, I came across a few that had fallen or, perhaps, were ripped from the ceiling and crashed on the floor. I walked for what felt like an hour until I came across a series of tall murals along the left side wall, each depicting a figure wearing biblical clothing. They all were heavily defaced, with the eyes and chest receiving most of the slashes. Below each figure was some foreign script that I didn't recognize but somehow understood. Saint Mary, Saint Joseph, St. Paul, St. Peter and the rest of the disciples.
About ten minutes after I had passed them, I came across seven large open windows where stained glass surely used to be on the wall opposite the murals. Outside, the darkness was even more dense. No sun, no moon, no stars. It was a wonder I could see anything at all. The only illumination was a faint yellow glow coming from the streets of a city that surrounded what appeared to be the castle I was in. “Steets of gold” I whispered, but not in English, in some language I had never learned but somehow now compulsively spoke. From what I could see, the entire city was ransacked. Carriages and chariots were turned over in the streets, some buildings smashed to pieces, some burned. No signs of anyone or anything living at all. Surrounding the city was a large stone wall. On the far side there was an opening where two massive gate doors now lay inward on the ground, like something had barged through them. I took in all that I could and then continued down the hallway. But I only made it a few more yards before I came across the first horrific scene. Blood- everywhere- Blood. On the floor, on the walls, some even splattered on the ceiling. Most was old and brown, soaked into the very stone itself, but some was only freshly congealed. With no other option, I carried on. The bloodstains never stopped.
Eventually I came across three adjacent hallways. The first, as far as I could see down it, was scattered with jewelry, overturned chests, disfigured crowns, and broken clay pots with golden treasure spilling from them. The second hallway was barricaded with exquisite looking luxury furniture, a barricade which, based on its collapsed state, wasn't successful. When I reached the third hallway, I froze, too scared to even breathe. It was dead. Hundreds of bloody dead. Severed limbs, heads without bodies, bodies without heads, some wearing the same silk gown I was only soaked through with blood. I was almost sick, but what was more terrifying was the fact that this wasn't the place where they had died. Someone had collected them and piled them in these gory mounds post massacre. I debated whether I should turn back and hide in the chamber where I had awoken, but I had no reason to think I would be any safer, so I continued on.
About 50 yards down the hallway, I came across two more even larger arched doorways and another slaughter. There were maybe thirty or so decaying human bodies, but they were bigger, probably standing around nine to twelve feet tall. Each was wearing a set of silver-plated armor which was torn, bent and punctured as if it were only decorative or ceremonial. It clearly did them no good against whatever came for them. As I stepped over them, I saw that each had a silver Halo dug into the decrepit flesh that still clung to their rotting skulls. One was made of gold and it was engraved with the same strange script which read “Michael the Archangel.”
I made my way through the large doors. And found myself in a large room, the largest I had seen so far. Along the walls were massive tapestries, some fallen to the ground depicting God's biblical triumphs. I walked further into the room and was stung by the putrid smell of rotting death. Fouler than I had ever known before. I pushed forward to the middle of the large hall, and then I saw the source of the stench. The throne, and in it a sixty-foot-tall creature that resembled the shape of a human but had decayed into something unrecognizable. Three horns were stabbed into it, one in each wrist, pinning its arms spread on the wall behind it, and the third in its neck where black sludge flowed from its green flesh. Above the giant were three titles engraved on the wall. “Yahweh, Jehovah, The Great I am.”
As I was absorbing what was before me, I heard the first signs of another living thing, a desperate call for help. “Hello?” echoed a man's voice through the halls. I turned around. He called out again. I began to walk back towards the door, but then I felt it. Footsteps- Massive footsteps, like Thunder. Starting slow but quickly gaining speed and volume. The man's calls turned into screams and desperate cries. The cries of a man who now realized that nothing in life had prepared him to defend against something so large and terrible. His screaming ended not with the sound of the slicing or the bludgeoning, but the ripping of flesh and the splatter of gallons of blood. A second later, it came flying through the air and landing mere feet in front of me. The top half of the man who had sent me here.
But I had no time to take in the horror. The footsteps were coming closer. I hid in the only place I could, underneath one of the fallen tapestries. I had barely gotten completely underneath it when the beast entered the hall. It dropped its pace and slowly approached the throne. In a voice that sounded like it had just gargled thick red blood, it said “Father.” Its heavy breathing intensified as it became enraged and began eviscerating the slain creature on the throne. It shouted in anger, louder than if lightning had struck just ten yards away. I could hear the sound of blood and sinew being hurled around the room and splattering against the stone. I felt a heavy, thick liquid land on my leg. At the same moment, the beast stopped its rampage and took a long and deep inhale through the nose. “I can smell your sins” It said in a deep, terrifying voice. It took a step closer and inhaled again.. “Yeesssss, sinner....” it was now only a few feet away from me. And I could smell its stinking breath. I began to shake uncontrollably and that's probably what gave me away. Suddenly it ripped the tapestry off of me and I tried to scream but all I heard was the familiar sound of a heart monitor.
After a moment, I opened my eyes. “OH MY GOD! YOU’RE AWAKE!” The nurse I saw just before I was hit squeezed my arm. “I can't believe you made it. You were dead for seventeen minutes.” Somehow I was able to speak. “Only seventeen?” She smirked. She thought it was a joke. “That psycho bastard from yesterday tried to kill you with his car. He died just a few minutes ago.” “I know...” I replied. She looked confused. “He's still a little loopy from all the painkiller.” Said a doctor that I had just now realized was in the room. But I wasn't. My mind was completely clear.
Since that day I quit my job and started taking my health and well-being extremely seriously. People assume it's because of my traumatic experience gave me a new lease on life. I Just smile and say yes. But the real reason is that I'm trying to live as long as possible because I know the truth. A truth so terrible it could compel one to suicide while also instilling in them godfear of what lies beyond the veil. But I guess for me there is no veil anymore. No mercy. No forgiveness. No perfect afterlife. Just a divine slaughterhouse. Something killed God and we're all next.
#entertainment
source
I guess I’ll start with why I’m recording this . . . I’m sick of all the liars. They come out every few years. Someone comes back from a coma or gets revived on the operating table, they wait a few months and then they start saying they heard angels singing, met Jesus, felt the fabled “river of joy.” It’s all bullshit! They made it the fuck up! For attention? For money? I don’t know. Even worse is when parents convince their children to do it. What I think I hate the most, though, are pastors who pull this kind of crap. Believers act so oblivious to the glaring conflict of interest. Their confirmation bias is unreal. Ninety Minutes in Heaven? FUCK YOU! If that man spent even one minute in heaven, he would never read his bible again, or preach from the pulpit, telling people to rejoice and sing praises. Anyone trying to tell you about some golden utopia in the afterlife is lying! I was in the afterlife for seventeen minutes. Someone . . . something killed God.
My journey to the afterlife started out as someone else’s horror story. I was an ER nurse, and we had just received two new patients via airlift in critical condition. A woman in her mid-thirties and every nurse's worst nightmare, a little girl. The mother was drunk behind the wheel with her daughter in the backseat. She rolled the car six times, coming around a bend on a country highway. Their injuries were severe. We did everything we could, but there was so little we could do. In a little under an hour, they both succumb to their injuries.
The father arrived just moments after. It was clear that this was a dysfunctional family as he was obviously abusing substances. And I had to break the horrible news to him. Naturally, he was in shambles, but also angry; at us, as if the reason his wife and child were dead was that we just didn’t care enough. It's not an uncommon reaction. Who could really say their emotional intelligence would remain intact after hearing that their family was all gone? But he was particularly angry at me. I don’t know if it was because I was the one who told him or if assumed I was in charge because I was of the only male nurse in the ER; it wouldn’t surprise me. He tried to attack me and had to be escorted off the premises by security.
The next day I arrived at the hospital parking lot for another twelve-hour shift. I approached the entrance and the automatic doors slide open. As I walked in, another nurse was just leaving her overnight shift. I said hello, but she didn’t say anything. I saw it in her eyes. The disbelief, the shock and then the fear before she darted back inside. I whipped around just in time to see the angry father from the night before driving his car full speed directly at me. He must have been waiting for me. I had no time to react. He crashed through the entrance and hit me. Everything went black instantly.
It was dark; so dark that I didn’t even realize I was awake or even that my eyes were open. I only noticed when I started to feel the cold stone surface I was lying on. As I became increasingly more conscious, there seemed to be a faint light with no source rising in the room. I was wearing a white silk robe with frayed edges and dirty patches all over it; like some sort of luxurious hospital gown that someone had been neglecting. I was in a medieval looking chamber with cobble stone walls. Along each were long extinguished candle lamps that seemed to be made of faded gold. I sat up and looked around the floor which had nothing on it except for a few pieces of wood that had been smashed against the wall or maybe the floor with splinters all around them. I saw a large double arched doorway slightly open on the far side of the chamber. I slowly stood up, walked over to it and pushed the heavy door all the way open. On the other side was a long dark hall. There was no other way to go, so I slowly started walking.
I could only see about fifteen or so feet in front of me. The darkness was thick, like it was a substance I was wading through. Along the floor was a stained and torn purple carpet that had been ruffled and tossed to the side. Covering the floor were chunks and bits that had been knocked out of the stone walls. Hanging from the ceiling were mangled, lifeless chandeliers. As I walked, I came across a few that had fallen or, perhaps, were ripped from the ceiling and crashed on the floor. I walked for what felt like an hour until I came across a series of tall murals along the left side wall, each depicting a figure wearing biblical clothing. They all were heavily defaced, with the eyes and chest receiving most of the slashes. Below each figure was some foreign script that I didn't recognize but somehow understood. Saint Mary, Saint Joseph, St. Paul, St. Peter and the rest of the disciples.
About ten minutes after I had passed them, I came across seven large open windows where stained glass surely used to be on the wall opposite the murals. Outside, the darkness was even more dense. No sun, no moon, no stars. It was a wonder I could see anything at all. The only illumination was a faint yellow glow coming from the streets of a city that surrounded what appeared to be the castle I was in. “Steets of gold” I whispered, but not in English, in some language I had never learned but somehow now compulsively spoke. From what I could see, the entire city was ransacked. Carriages and chariots were turned over in the streets, some buildings smashed to pieces, some burned. No signs of anyone or anything living at all. Surrounding the city was a large stone wall. On the far side there was an opening where two massive gate doors now lay inward on the ground, like something had barged through them. I took in all that I could and then continued down the hallway. But I only made it a few more yards before I came across the first horrific scene. Blood- everywhere- Blood. On the floor, on the walls, some even splattered on the ceiling. Most was old and brown, soaked into the very stone itself, but some was only freshly congealed. With no other option, I carried on. The bloodstains never stopped.
Eventually I came across three adjacent hallways. The first, as far as I could see down it, was scattered with jewelry, overturned chests, disfigured crowns, and broken clay pots with golden treasure spilling from them. The second hallway was barricaded with exquisite looking luxury furniture, a barricade which, based on its collapsed state, wasn't successful. When I reached the third hallway, I froze, too scared to even breathe. It was dead. Hundreds of bloody dead. Severed limbs, heads without bodies, bodies without heads, some wearing the same silk gown I was only soaked through with blood. I was almost sick, but what was more terrifying was the fact that this wasn't the place where they had died. Someone had collected them and piled them in these gory mounds post massacre. I debated whether I should turn back and hide in the chamber where I had awoken, but I had no reason to think I would be any safer, so I continued on.
About 50 yards down the hallway, I came across two more even larger arched doorways and another slaughter. There were maybe thirty or so decaying human bodies, but they were bigger, probably standing around nine to twelve feet tall. Each was wearing a set of silver-plated armor which was torn, bent and punctured as if it were only decorative or ceremonial. It clearly did them no good against whatever came for them. As I stepped over them, I saw that each had a silver Halo dug into the decrepit flesh that still clung to their rotting skulls. One was made of gold and it was engraved with the same strange script which read “Michael the Archangel.”
I made my way through the large doors. And found myself in a large room, the largest I had seen so far. Along the walls were massive tapestries, some fallen to the ground depicting God's biblical triumphs. I walked further into the room and was stung by the putrid smell of rotting death. Fouler than I had ever known before. I pushed forward to the middle of the large hall, and then I saw the source of the stench. The throne, and in it a sixty-foot-tall creature that resembled the shape of a human but had decayed into something unrecognizable. Three horns were stabbed into it, one in each wrist, pinning its arms spread on the wall behind it, and the third in its neck where black sludge flowed from its green flesh. Above the giant were three titles engraved on the wall. “Yahweh, Jehovah, The Great I am.”
As I was absorbing what was before me, I heard the first signs of another living thing, a desperate call for help. “Hello?” echoed a man's voice through the halls. I turned around. He called out again. I began to walk back towards the door, but then I felt it. Footsteps- Massive footsteps, like Thunder. Starting slow but quickly gaining speed and volume. The man's calls turned into screams and desperate cries. The cries of a man who now realized that nothing in life had prepared him to defend against something so large and terrible. His screaming ended not with the sound of the slicing or the bludgeoning, but the ripping of flesh and the splatter of gallons of blood. A second later, it came flying through the air and landing mere feet in front of me. The top half of the man who had sent me here.
But I had no time to take in the horror. The footsteps were coming closer. I hid in the only place I could, underneath one of the fallen tapestries. I had barely gotten completely underneath it when the beast entered the hall. It dropped its pace and slowly approached the throne. In a voice that sounded like it had just gargled thick red blood, it said “Father.” Its heavy breathing intensified as it became enraged and began eviscerating the slain creature on the throne. It shouted in anger, louder than if lightning had struck just ten yards away. I could hear the sound of blood and sinew being hurled around the room and splattering against the stone. I felt a heavy, thick liquid land on my leg. At the same moment, the beast stopped its rampage and took a long and deep inhale through the nose. “I can smell your sins” It said in a deep, terrifying voice. It took a step closer and inhaled again.. “Yeesssss, sinner....” it was now only a few feet away from me. And I could smell its stinking breath. I began to shake uncontrollably and that's probably what gave me away. Suddenly it ripped the tapestry off of me and I tried to scream but all I heard was the familiar sound of a heart monitor.
After a moment, I opened my eyes. “OH MY GOD! YOU’RE AWAKE!” The nurse I saw just before I was hit squeezed my arm. “I can't believe you made it. You were dead for seventeen minutes.” Somehow I was able to speak. “Only seventeen?” She smirked. She thought it was a joke. “That psycho bastard from yesterday tried to kill you with his car. He died just a few minutes ago.” “I know...” I replied. She looked confused. “He's still a little loopy from all the painkiller.” Said a doctor that I had just now realized was in the room. But I wasn't. My mind was completely clear.
Since that day I quit my job and started taking my health and well-being extremely seriously. People assume it's because of my traumatic experience gave me a new lease on life. I Just smile and say yes. But the real reason is that I'm trying to live as long as possible because I know the truth. A truth so terrible it could compel one to suicide while also instilling in them godfear of what lies beyond the veil. But I guess for me there is no veil anymore. No mercy. No forgiveness. No perfect afterlife. Just a divine slaughterhouse. Something killed God and we're all next.
#entertainment
source
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