Henry Monde my short life and long death....The wooden Cart

My name is Henry Monde and I am dead, I actually don't know how long I have been dead, could be years, could be days, it is hard to figure out how time passes here, no sun, no moon, no day no night....only the scalding heat.

Oh I forgot to say, I think that that I may be in hell, or at least something that resembles it, so for the moment I am calling it hell. If truth actually be told, it isn't that bad, well apart from one thing that those bastards did to me.

You see when I was alive I was tall, good looking and a real ladies man. It seems that here in hell the powers that be have decided that I am small and fat, and I have an intense and quite horrific smell emanating from every pore of my body, but the strange thing is that my face is totally recognizable fatter and a bit squashed but I still remember my face from my life. All things considered it is not a great look but a bit like the heat, you get used to the smell and I try to avoid mirrors where I can so my appearance doesn't matter that much, it is amazing what you can get used to.

It is hard to explain what I have been doing for the last few days/weeks/months....as I said it is hard to gauge time here. People or parts of people arrive every day in a large woodencart and I literally put them back together into rather fearsome animals that are then used by the rather beautiful lady Melanie in her various wars here in Hell. To be honest, I actually haven't left this building since I died and have spent most of my time learning how to create and build bigger, stronger and fiercer animals for my good lady Melanie.

This day started like every other day, the wooden cart appeared with the sloppy remnants of body parts, if nothing else I am methodical, I like to line up all the parts so that I know what I am working with for the day.

Legs then arms, feet then hands, eyes, teeth, torso's and then finally the heads. I always leave the heads till last because they try and speak to me, most of them beg and plead and cry and ask where they, are after a while it becomes background noise, and I have learned to ignore them.

But today was different......I hear my name being called

"Henry....Henry....is that you, what happened to you? where am I?"

The voice sounds familiar I find it harder and harder to remember how it was when I was alive but there are still memories here and there a bit like dreams but some stronger than others.

I pick up the head and look at it, the head is caved in and one eye has kind of popped out of the skull, at a time I would have felt sick, but nowadays this is just normal and I get the idea that I might put an eagles eye into the remaining socket so that this animal will have better sight.

"Henry....Henry...if that is you, what has happened to me?"

I am trying hard to remember who this is, it is definitely someone that I knew when I was alive, but I just can't remember who it was.

"I was in the arena, we were fighting, I had him, I fucking had him and then all I remember is pain, my leg went from underneath me and then a blinding headache...where am I?"

It is hard for most of them to comprehend where they are, one minute they are living and the next minute they are so much spare parts for me, most of the time I just rip out the tongue and be done with it, but this one is different. I am trying to remember just who this head belonged to.

I have a vague feeling that we were related in some way, but a bit like a dream fading in the morning, the more I chase it the faster it flee's.

The head continues to talk

"Something feels wrong, where am I, is this a hospital?"

and so it goes on...in a minute the screaming will start as he figures out that he is only a head talking and his body is long gone....I reach for the pliers, I've had enough of this, one snip of the tongue and the head will stop talking.

"Henry, please help me"....the head continues...."please"...."where am I"

It is always the same, despite what they see they can not truly comprehend that they are dead and they are going to spend eternity as some kind of animal in hell, being dead kind of desensitizes you to these things and to be honest I am just glad that I am not one of them, it does take the sting out of my current abhorrent appearance after all anything is better that than being one of these poor wretches.

"Henry, it's me Luna....your brother....help me NOW!"

And then suddenly as if a dam has burst, I remember him, my brother Luna, he made my life hell for most of my living years, this head in front of me once belonged to the bane of my living life...oh how I am going to enjoy this one...no tongue cutting for Luna...I want to hear every whimper and cry as I tell him that is is absolutely screwed for the rest of eternity......

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Thanks to @ryivhnn for his creativity and generosity in giving me this, check out his excellent posts.