Eternal Wasteland

The barren clouds stretched endlessly in every direction, an endless expanse of monotony that seemed to swallow me whole. I had been walking for what felt like an eternity, my footsteps echoing faintly against the empty sky, the only sound in this desolate realm.

But as the hours stretched into days, and the days into weeks, a creeping sense of unease began to gnaw at the edges of my mind. This couldn't be heaven—not with its endless emptiness, its oppressive silence that seemed to suffocate the very soul.

Desperation clawed at my chest as I turned back toward the gates, toward the figure of St. Peter who stood watch over this desolate wasteland. I had to get out, to escape this hellish purgatory and find my way back to the world I had left behind.

With a trembling voice, I approached the gatekeeper, my heart hammering in my chest as I pleaded for release. "Please," I begged, my words barely more than a whisper. "I can't stay here any longer. I need to leave."

But to my horror, St. Peter's grin only widened, his eyes gleaming with a malevolent light that sent a chill down my spine. "What made you think you were in heaven?" he asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

Confusion clouded my mind as I struggled to comprehend his words. If this wasn't heaven, then where was I? And what horrors awaited me in this forsaken realm?

With a wave of his hand, St. Peter gestured toward the empty expanse before us, the clouds stretching endlessly into the distance. "This is your eternity now," he said, his voice a mocking whisper on the wind. "A world of endless wandering, of eternal solitude. Welcome to your own personal hell."

Panic surged through me as I realized the truth of his words. I was trapped here, condemned to an eternity of loneliness and despair, with no hope of escape. And as I turned away from the gates of heaven, the laughter of St. Peter echoing in my ears, I knew that I would never find peace in this desolate wasteland.