Alright, so I'm writing a paper on Hell in literature, and I have these three paragraphs wherein I provide an abstract of the hell described in the three works I'm writing about. I made an effort to write these in similar styles to the original texts. If you can identify all three, you get a cookie.


You find yourself cast down into a bottomless pit, a lake of scalding fire. Waves of flame envelop your body, your skin once purest white turns black, charred as fast-burnt soot. It broils and bubbles in the infernal heat, pain come unbidden and strong. What you have done to deserve this hell is rebellion--an uprising against the highest authority, indeed the only authority, in all the cosmos. An angel in Lucifer's army, one of those who would have toppled the mighty gilded throne, you reside now in Earth's great underbelly, and there shall the impudent remain. Unlike Satan himself, whose freedom, though restrained, draws breath still, you and your cohorts enjoy no mobility, pinned to your pain always and eternally.


You're led to a windowless room decorated with abhorrent Rococo furniture, with some godawful bronze statue being the centrepiece of what amounts to a torture chamber. The thoroughly passive-aggressive valet who led you here tells you that the bell to request his services works some times, and some times it doesn't, and with a smile like ice he takes his leave of you. Being dead, you see in your mind's eye the doings of those you left on the surface, but only until you fade from their memories and conversations, and lose that earthbound part of yourself. Then you can see up there no more. Your company in this room are your torturers. You crave the acceptance of one, loathe the unwanted attention of the other, and form a miserable triangle swapping venom from hand to hand for all eternity. What's more, there will be no blinking in this room--like any effective torture, this hell is totally unyielding.


You built your hell yourself. Not in the ground, nor in a fiery chasm, but in a woodshed sort of structure just a minute's walk away from the domain of your vengeful, imperious mother, and worlds away from everything you find interesting. Nothing to do where you are now but dull the pain in alcohol, exorcise the pain through poetry, or simply wallow in the hell that is your misery. One day you manage your escape, you flee with the wind at your back toward the dark alleyways of the Bohemian city, where you always knew you belonged. Only there you find no relief from the constant suffering, merely men of little wealth and no moral taste. Alcohol mixes with opium and violence ensues in a blinding flash, and you realize you will be happy nowhere.
i effing loved the second one.

the first one seemed to be lacking something.
i don't really know what it is that it's missing,
but it feels like it needs a little something more.

the third one was good, but not quite as good as two.
i still really liked it and can't really find any problems.

I just want to sleep forever.

what, we have to identify the texts? cos number one sounds a lot like Dante to me, but not a clue about the others...
I was just wondering if anyone could identify them...Wasn't saying you had to.

Dante is a good guess for the first one, but it isn't right. (I probably would've mentioned the different layers of hell if it were.) But you've got the general time period right. Sort of. Skip forward a century or two. Or three, I'm not sure.
i cant give a long crit right now but

1- i liked it but it lacked anything that just made me go wow
2- beautiful/brilliant/perfect
3- my 2nd favorite. i liked what you did with this one specially the last line

sorry that wasnt obviously much but no ones really saying anything about the piece just guessing names. so nice work 10/10

the 2nd stanza is possibly the best thing ive read on here ever