The soles of his feet began to burn.

Devoid of any blood flow, the broken skin beneath on his feet let out a light cloud of sand and dust. Damien stared into the distance. Simply gazing. Looking for a glimpse of hope. But there was nothing. For miles on end, the was absolutely nothing. He never really contemplated the possibility that there was actually a hell. Nevertheless, here he was.

He heaved his feet forward, one in front of the other, to no end. It was at this moment that he realised why this place was actually called hell.

This is never going to end, is it?

He looked back at the dunes he had left behind to see no footsteps. Damien raised a single leg, looked beneath it and then put it back down.

"There is no wind though." His whispers disappeared into the surrounding atmosphere. He attempted to jump to find that the gravity was pretty much the same as on his very own Earth. If he was ever going to get out of this place, he had much to learn. And so, he continued to crawl.

A few days passed, without much of a means to keep track apart from his body clock. But his tongue had shrivelled up and his lips had cracked open due to the lack of moisture. The blood had dried up ages ago and he most likely would have died had he not been dead already. He licked the roof of his mouth and almost choked. He may as well have swallowed sandpaper.

He then wondered how a girl would feel if he was eating her out. He scoffed. "My wife would've liked it. She was always into the kinkiest shit!" He laughed a sour, lifeless laugh before calming down. She is probably sucking some jerks dick in heaven, I bet.

He cringed. But not before the image of a village formed in the distance. He would have prayed, but he was never really a believer and so he just attempted to pick up the pace.

He approached a dying tree on his way to the village and plucked from it, a rotten fig. Promptly, his teeth sunk into the fig only for his mouth to revoke it seconds later. He had to eat it, otherwise his body would become incapable of functioning. Damien ended up forcing the rest of the fruit with his hand, down his throat. What bad could a single, fruit gone bad do to a healthy, young man like himself? He would be fine.

Damien looked up and then he came to understand precisely why the tree was dead. Why the fruit was dead. And most probably why everything else was going to die. Hell, from the looks of it, had no sun. It had light, yes. But no sun whatsoever. All there was, was a relatively small, luminous orb floating in the centre of the sky. Regardless, the fig had partially rejuvnated him. And so he kept walking. But his intrigue regarding the orb never really seemed to leave him.