(I tried my hand at a real short story. Tell me what you think.)

And You Can't Even Scream

Jon held his pained and throbbing head in his hands and stared at the floor. The cold concrete seemed to be laughing at him and his lifelong prison sentence for murder. Forty years had already passed by. He was seventy-two years old.

There were no mirrors in the cell; in fact, he hadn't seen his reflection in the forty years he was in prison. However, he knew he was aging because he could see his shoulder-length gray hair and could feel the wrinkles on his face. If he had a mirror, he'd be able to see his cheekbones jutting out and a pair of steel-gray eyes staring back at him. He was a hideous man on the outside, yes, but far worse on the inside. To him, the Bible meant nothing. Whenever he did open the Bible by his bed, he would read a few lines and then slam it shut in hysterical laughter. Jon's lack of respect for anything led him to cursing the prison guards, throwing food around his cell, and his placement in solitary confinement.

Lately, Jon had been feeling horrible. He would wake up to find he had a splitting headache that would go away after a few hours. Dizzy spells caught him in mid-pace. He would begin blacking out unexpectedly. The symptoms were only getting worse with each passing day. However, Jon refused to mention any of this to the prison guards for they would only scoff. They wouldn't care; they'd be happy for him.

That day the headache was especially bad. His forehead throbbed painfully with every heartbeat. If he even did so much as stand up, he would nearly fall over with dizziness. Thinking it was just another migraine; he clutched his face, leaned forward, and stared at the floor. There was nothing he could do except wait until it ended. He gritted his teeth and moaned in agony. An invisible leaden hammer was beating his head. Even sitting down now, his eyes were slowly being clouded with black.

"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Jon howled and threw himself against the stony gray walls of his cell. The pain was unbearable. He could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. With every bit of strength left in him, he fought to keep himself awake. His yelling had only increased the throbbing. He didn't know whether his head was being crushed or whether it was a giant helium balloon. A faint taste of blood was now in his mouth. He brought his hand up to his face, which was unusually wet. When he pulled his hand away he found that it was covered in blood. His nose was bleeding. Jon was trying hard but could no longer stay awake. Giving up, he let his eyes cloud in darkness and his eyes close.

All pain left Jon. A dark tunnel with a pinpoint of white light at the other end lay in front of him. How did I get here? Jon thought. I must be having one of those near-death-experiences, he concluded. Knowing no other options he started for the other end. A strange flying sensation came over him and he raced ahead. Jon didn't know why, but he knew he had to get to the other end. Somehow he knew someone was waiting for him. The light was growing brighter and swelling as he drew nearer. He accelerated towards it. He had to get to the other side.

The light was blinding. He found that he had no hands to shield his face. It was as if he'd become one with his surroundings. The tunnel had not stopped, yet it wasn't going anywhere. All that was around him was pure, clean, shining light. Jon had no idea where on earth he was. Was he even on earth? Thoughts swirled in his mind until a thunderous voice surrounded him.

"Jon,"

Jon spun around, startled. Where had the voice come from? Panicked, he looked behind him. Everywhere was still shining light.

"You will not see Me. Stop searching."

Trembling, Jon turned forward. In a weak voice much unlike his own, he called out into the light, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I am the One you never knew. You never wanted to know Me. I am who I am." The voice answered.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Jon whimpered angrily. "I never knew a lot of people! Who the hell are you?"

"Do you know why I am a mystery to you, Jon?" the voice asked calmly.

Puzzled, Jon hesitated. Finally, he replied, "No. Tell me."

"You never took Me seriously when you read the stories of my greatness. You led an impure life. In doing this, you betrayed Me. I loved you as I loved your neighbor. Why, then, didn't you love Me?"

Terror stricken, Jon searched for what to say. He grunted a few nonsense words. Words escaped him once he realized to whom he was talking. At last he begged, "My God, I beg for your forgiveness. Please, let me join You in Heaven. I promise-"

"It is too late, Jon."

Jon's hopes of happiness and Heaven shrank into nothing. He knew where he was going.

"Your life on earth and the disrespect you showed was unacceptable. You will not be joining me in my kingdom.

"Goodbye, Jon."

The voice was gone. Immediately the light melted away into darkness. Jon screamed. He was falling, falling, falling.

Suddenly he found himself in what looked a lot like his own jail cell, except it was completely void of furniture. All it was was a small, four-walled room with a stark light bulb on the ceiling. Jon looked around for a moment. He knew something was missing. After a slow second, he realized what was missing. There was no door.

Jon wanted to scream again. He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. He couldn't scream. There was something blocking up his throat. The urge to scream was overwhelming. Oh, was it ever. He needed to scream in the worst way. Yet he could not vocalize any sounds at all.

A cold, trembling hand reached for the wall. The tips of his gray fingers touched the wall for a second, and when he realized that he and the wall were both solid, he pulled his hand back. So he wasn't a ghost. He couldn't float through the walls. Defeated, Jon looked up. For a second, all he could see was the light bulb. But something else caught his eye- a wooden trapdoor with no lock.

Nearly collapsing with glee, Jon brought his hands to his head. He blinked his eyes to make certain he wasn't seeing things. No, it was there all right. Thinking he was finally blessed with a way out, he leapt into the air at to trapdoor. He extended an arm and stretched out his fingers. He swatted at the door, but instead only swatted the air. Defeated again, Jon fell back to the floor. He was one inch too short.

Jon stared up at the trapdoor on the ceiling. So this was what hell was like. You're all alone, there's no way out, and you can't even scream. It's not like anybody would hear you anyway.