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I sat moodily on the bench. My stomach felt constricted, like someone had just punched me. A big knot that was supposed to be my stomach continually reminded me in easy, simple terms that I was hungry. Worse yet, my mind is harping on the theme that suppers are not free, and that I had no money.
I got up and walked down the street, eying the busy people who were going home to a nice supper. The people who didn't have to wonder if they were eating anytime soon.
I spat on the ground. That's what I thought about those people. Worse than dirt.
Then someone approached me, holding out a piece of paper.
"Here's something to read," she said.
I took the piece of paper, and glanced at it. I recognized it as a tract immediately. I was about to throw it down, when she stopped me.
"You really ought to read it," she said. "It could make a huge diffence to you after you die."
I didn't care. I threw the paper down and ran away from the girl.
Horns tooted. Someone yelled. Something knocked me down. I couldn't see.
Suddenly, quiet came.
I was standing before someone. He was bright white. I could barely look at him.
"I know you not," he said. His voice was calm, but powerful. "Go into the place prepared for Satan and his angels."
An angel picked me up and took me over to an ocean of fire. The flames burst up in twenty, thirty foot geysers. I screamed.
"No! Don't throw me in there!"
The angel grimaced. "You've brought it on yourself," he said. “You could have stopped yourself from going in here, but now it’s too late.”
He threw me in.
It was agony. I was burning all over, inside and outside. My hands were instantly blistered, my face was searing. I couldn't help screaming.
I thought I'd die, but I didn't. I guess it was true that this place burns forever. I should have listened. Now it's too late.
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