Hell is a downtown club bar

The lights are dizzying and the beat of the music is numbing his ears, much like how the alcohol in his system is numbing his mind. His eyes are moving across the room now, making out these blurry images, it was hard to see anything. The dancing lights would occasionally caress the faces of these silhouettes and remind him that, yes, these figures are human, moving and twisting awkwardly to the beat as if entranced by it, huddling together in too close of a contact, they might as well merge, in which some of them do, he sees them intertwined into each other with every inch of themselves touching, moving in sync with each other and with the music.

It’s like hell in here, he thought. It is what hell should look like, not the barren land filled with misery and despair, not with tortured souls or agonizing screams. This is what hell should be, a dark abyss brimming of sin and regrets, dark, cold, and inviting. The air filled with the musk of sweat, smoke and alcohol, and these dancing silhouettes are the little demons indulging, experimenting, drowning in alcohol and lust.

There is a disgusting feeling in the pit of his stomach, it breeds and spreads to the rest of his body, and he feels it, he feels it course through his veins. He clenches his teeth and his fist, he swallows, a futile attempt to calm this poisonous feeling. He sneers, disgusted.