FINALLY THE TRAIN ARRIVES IN HELL (STINK) - CREATIVE WRITING EXCERCISE 4TH YEAR
THE FUTURE IN THE DYING STINK He must be dead. This time. Yes, undeniably, he must be dead. And he is in Hell. Obviously, he must be in Hell because it smells just like the train to Rebuilt. Nothing can be worse than sitting on the train to Rebuilt, smelling the grotesque mingling of alcohol, fear, sweat, blood, and rot. Nothing... except being in Rebuilt itself. He drinks in the hopelessness that hangs in the air like a thick fog. He sees the twisted buildings and the massive lumps of rotting flesh that hang from the windows and door frames. Yes this is Hell. He groans heavily; some of the passengers, seeing Rebuilt for the first time, vomit and scream all manner of incredulous things at the same time. Not he. Someone has ordered him to be here, or else he wouldn't have suddenly woke on this third class passenger bench. He's lost count of how many times he has passed this way before. "Final stop!" the automated train voice crackles through the ancient PA. The tra