I watched Hell’s version of a classic television show

We’ve all been there. Unable to sleep and in a zombified state, channel surfing in the early hours, searching in vain for a program that will distract from our stresses and worries, if only for a short time. It was during one of these late-night sessions that I discovered a channel I’d never watched before and have never been able to find since.

I’d like to tell you that the channel number was ‘666’ or something like that. This would fit in well with the narrative. But in truth, I can’t remember the channel and I’ve no clue how I came across it. I was half asleep and not paying attention, simply flicking from channel to channel until I found something which caught my attention.

And, once I started watching, I became entirely transfixed by the events playing out on my screen, that is until I reached the show’s terrifying conclusion, after which I couldn’t get my television off quickly enough. What I saw that night had a profound impact upon me, and the horrifying images I witnessed are permanently burnt into my memory. Even after all these years, those terrible scenes still haunt my nightmares, and I now have a profound fear of death, as I know what’s awaiting me on the other side.

I’ll do my best to describe what I saw. When I selected the channel, initially I saw nothing on the screen except black and white static. This continued for about five seconds, and so I assumed my aerial wasn’t picking up the signal. I was about to give it up as a lost cause and flick to the next channel using my remote, but then suddenly the TV screen burst to life.

What I saw at first glance was your typical chat show format, with a presenter sat in front of a studio audience on an old-school set that looked like a throwback from the 80’s, complete with sofas set out in front of an array of cameras. The audience applauded enthusiastically as the piped theme tune played in the background, and the cameraman zoomed in on the stage, focusing on the tuxedo wearing presenter, as he raised his hand and shot an insincere smile towards the camera.

After listening to that familiar theme music, my first thought was that I’d tuned into an episode of the classic British biography show, ‘This is your life’. For those of you who don’t remember it, the program would feature a different celebrity each week. The celebrity or distinguished person would be surprised by the presenter, who would announce that they were being recognised for achievements in their chosen field, whether it be acting, sports, politics, and so forth.

The guest of honor would then be presented with a symbolic red book which would be filled with the biography of their life to date, from their early childhood, through each significant milestone in their career, and up to the current day. And throughout the program, a series of surprise special guests would be invited up onto the stage – family members, former mentors, colleagues, and co-stars, each of them telling the story of how they knew the man or woman of the hour, the relationship they’d enjoyed over the years, and how they’d helped the featured celebrity blossom and achieve their ultimate success.

As I remembered it, the show was all very wholesome, consisting of happy reunions and lots of self-congratulatory platitudes. To be honest, the whole thing was a bit cheesy as I recall. Nevertheless, my curiosity got the better of me. Perhaps the familiarity of the old-school format reminded me of better times during my childhood, or maybe I just wanted to see what celebrity guest would pop up, and whether I would recognise them.

In any event, I decided to stop my channel-surfing and watch on. What harm can come from watching a television show after all? Well, as it turned out, a hell of a lot.

As the show’s preliminaries came to a close, I realised that this wasn’t the iconic television program I remembered from my youth. In fact, the more I watched, the more I became convinced that this was nothing more than a cheap knock-off. The theme music was out of tune, the set looked hastily put together, with worn-out sofas and tacky plastic plants, and the camera shots were all over the place.

What’s more, the presenter on screen definitely wasn’t Michael Aspel, the famous broadcaster who’d fronted the real ‘This is your life’ during the 80’s and 90’s. I actually didn’t recognise the man presenting the show, and I couldn’t quite place him from any other programs I’d seen previously.

At first glance, he looked much like your standard television presenter, the type you’d expect to see on any generic chat or talk show. He was smartly turned out, wearing a snug fitting black tuxedo, with an immaculately clean white shirt and dark red bowtie. His black hair was slicked back, and he appeared cleanshaven. A handsome man with a charismatic grin, it was easy to see how this man had secured television work. This was my first impression of him, but when the camera zoomed in on his face, I soon realised something was off.

The wide smile etched across his cheeks was obviously fake. This in itself wasn’t a surprise. His type were paid to present a friendly face to their audience. Nevertheless, there was something unnatural and perhaps even sinister about his nearly impossibly wide grin, stretching from cheek to cheek and exposing teeth so white and unblemished that they could be mistaken for dentures.

What’s more, the presenter’s skin was so pale that he could have been considered albino, had it not been for his dark hair. Meanwhile, his deep blue eyes were full of malice, hinting at a cruel streak to his character that was barely concealed. I remember staring into those eyes for just a moment and I felt mesmerised, unable to avert my gaze, as I almost lost myself in a deep abyss.

Suddenly, the camera angle changed, panning over the studio audience as they clapped in unison to applause the beginning of the show. As with the presenter, there was something off with the assembled and seated audience members. There were about one hundred of them in total – men and women, young and old, and of various different races. This in itself wasn’t unusual, but what did confuse me was how the audience members were dressed in costumes from different eras in history – everything from Roman-style togas, Tudor tunics, Twenties pin-stripe suits with fedora hats, and the type of shiny shell suits people wore in the 80’s.

I thought perhaps there was some kind of fancy dress element to the show, but this wasn’t the only thing which concerned me about their collective appearance. I noticed how all these people clapped in perfect unison, acting as if they were a single organism. But there was no joy or real enthusiasm behind their applause, and it seemed like they were simply going through the motions. I also noticed how they all had blood-shot eyes and artificial smiles plastered across their faces. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought they were all mechanical mannequins, programmed to clap on command.

I found the image quite unnerving, and so I was relieved when the camera switched back to the presenter sitting on stage. The host motioned to the crowd, raising his left hand to request silence. Next, he spoke to the camera in a booming voice. His accent was trans-Atlantic, mixed with something else I could not identify.

“Welcome, welcome my friends.” he began, “I’m your host for tonight, and I’m delighted to see you all here again. We’ve got a great show planned for you all here tonight…So, without further ado, let’s kick off the latest episode of ‘This was your shitty life, scumbag!’”

He paused briefly, allowing for another burst of monotone applause as the camera panned out. At that point I’ll admit that I smiled and felt a sense of relief. I decided that this show must be a parody – an edgy comedy poking fun at the much more famous but otherwise dull and conventional television program. This was surely satire, presenting an image of people who were ‘shitty’ and ‘scumbags’, rather than the likable and inspiring persons whose achievements were to be celebrated.

I sat back in my armchair, waiting with anticipation to see which disgraced former politician or washed-up D-list celebrity would be subjected to tonight’s roasting. However, what happened next truly shocked me.

“Now my friends,” the grinning host continued, “tonight’s guest of honor is a guy who thinks very highly of himself. Some would describe him as a ‘good man’ and a ‘pillar of the community’. But – of course – we know better, don’t we?”
He paused momentarily and shot a knowing wink towards the camera.

“Well, that’s enough pre-amble from me. Let’s bring the bastard out! Welcome to our newest guest, inmate ten billion, thirteen thousand, eight hundred and ninety one!”

I was still puzzling over the bizarre introduction and lengthy string of numbers when it happened. To my astonishment, a human body fell through the air, dropping down as if it had been tossed through a hole in the ceiling. The body landed heavily upon a hard backed chair sat adjacent to the sofa. I heard a sickening crack and felt sure bones had been broken, but miraculously the figure had landed right in the middle of the waiting chair, drawn to it like iron fillings to a magnet.
The man who fell was still alive and conscious, screaming out in agony as he landed. And, as if this wasn’t astonishing enough, as soon as he was in the chair, shackles automatically popped up, securing his wrists and ankles in place, and binding him tightly to the chair. It was quite something to see, and I wondered how the hell they’d pulled off this stunt. It looked so realistic. My guess was CGI, but nothing in the show’s otherwise cheap and tacky production values suggested they had the budget for such things.

The man shackled to the chair was already bloodied and in an obvious state of disarray, giving the impression that he’d been roughed up and kidnapped. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt, now stained with red blood, and an old pair of ripped jeans. He was blond-haired and could be considered handsome under different circumstances, with deep green eyes and a distinguished looking jawline. He looked youngish, and I guessed he was in his late 30’s or early 40’s.

The man was clearly in a state of shock, terrified at the situation he found himself in. I remember thinking what a good actor the guy was. His performance was so realistic. I watched on in awestruck horror as the man violently struggled against his binds, screaming wildly as he did so.

“What the fuck!” he cried out, “What the fuck is this? Let me go, you sick freaks!”

“Now now, young man,” the host said in a mockingly stern tone of voice, “this is a family show, so I must ask that you mind your language.”

“Who the fuck are you?” the prisoner shot back angrily.

He would soon regret his words. I watched the host reaching across to a button concealed under the arm of his chair, pushing it with his index finger. A second later, the bound prisoner’s body convulsed violently, as if a strong electrical current was running through him.

He screamed in agony as his entire body shook, with the tight shackles holding him in peace. The torture must only have lasted for four or five seconds, but it was awful to watch. Mercifully, the electrocution soon ended, leaving the prisoner badly shaken and practically smoking from his ears.

“My God…My God…” he muttered in shock.

“God won’t help you here my friend.” the sadistic host replied, “Unfortunately for you, our little show falls outside of his realm.”

At that exact moment, canned laughter reverberated throughout the studio, creating a surreal atmosphere on set.
The prisoner’s panicked eyes quickly darted from side to side, taking in the scene before focusing on his captor.

“Please.” he pleaded pitifully, “Please. I don’t understand what’s happening. Where am I? What do you want from me?”

The host shot his prisoner a wicked smile before answering in a booming and exuberant voice.

“Worry not, my new friend…or should I say fiend? All will be revealed very soon. For you are tonight’s guest of honor…And, THIS IS YOUR SHITTY LIFE, SCUMBAG!”

The audience applauded on cue, and the theme tune played once more, as the camera focused on the prisoner’s bloodied face. I could see the raw terror behind his eyes. I’d seen that look before and knew he wasn’t acting.

I should have switched the television off there and then, but I’ll admit to feeling a morbid curiosity. I knew something awful was going to happen to the poor bastard strapped to the chair, and I felt disgusted by it. But nevertheless, a sick and voyeuristic part of me couldn’t look away.

The bound prisoner remained in a state of panicked confusion as the host continued his bizarre and rather frightening introduction.

“Now my friend…inmate ten billion, thirteen thousand, eight hundred and ninety one…A bit of a mouthful, I think you’ll agree! Do you mind if I call you scumbag?”

I noted this was the second time the host had read out this lengthy number, but I still had no idea of its significance. The prisoner was clearly just as baffled, not to mention angered by being referred to as ‘scumbag’. Temporarily forgetting his perilous situation, an angry defiance was evident in his voice as he next spoke.

“What the fu…” the prisoner caught himself just in the nick of time, no doubt recalling the severe punishment he’d suffered the last time he swore.

“Don’t call me a scumbag…” he said through clenched teeth, “My name is Andrew!”

“Ah yes, your so-called ‘Christian’ name.” the host answered with a chuckle, “Well, you won’t be needing that name anymore!”

More canned laughter followed, as the prisoner – who I now knew was called Andrew – shook his head in dismay.
“Well scumbag,” the host continued, “by all accounts you’ve lived quite the wholesome and decent life. Born into a respectable and wealthy family. Sent to a private school, where you excelled in both your studies and athletic pursuits. You attended a top university and got a job in corporate banking. Made a killing for yourself…big house and expensive cars. You married your childhood sweetheart, raised a pair of beautiful children…”

“But alas, your life was cut tragically short by a horrific car accident. Still, having lived such a good life, you might reasonably expect to be rewarded in the afterlife, right?”

Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed he could not find the words.

“Well scumbag, I’ve got some bad news for you! Because, I know all your deepest and darkest secrets, and tonight all your chickens have come home to roost!”

More canned laughter, followed by robotic clapping from the audience. I saw how the prisoner mouthed the words ‘what the fuck’ through his trembling lips.

“Well scumbag, we’ve got a series of special guests here tonight, all of whom know you intimately…And let me tell you, these good folks are just dying to tell their stories. So, without further ado, let’s meet our first guest…”

Just then, a disembodied voice came through the studio’s speakers. It sounded like a child speaking into a microphone.

“Hey there asshole, remember me? You made my childhood a living hell, and now I’m here for payback.”

The bound prisoner’s eyes widened in fear as the audience applauded. A moment later, a young boy of perhaps 12 or 13 walked out onto the stage, nervously making his way towards the couch. He was dressed in a smart school uniform, complete with tie and blazer. He wore thick-rimmed glasses, was slightly chubby, and had acne all over his face. I noticed how awkwardly he looked and walked, like he had no self-confidence.

I did feel sympathy for the kid, guessing he was the type who got picked on in school. In contrast, Andrew sounded like he’d been a bully back in his school days, but there had to be thirty years between him and the boy.

The schoolboy sat on the couch, keeping his head down as he refused to make eye contact with either the prisoner or host.

The presenter spoke to the boy in a surprisingly sympathetic tone.

“Well young man, why don’t you tell us your name and your story?”

He took a deep breath before speaking in a soft, barely audible voice. “My name is Daniel. My parents sent me to boarding school when I was 11. I didn’t want to go, but they told me it would be character building and make me into a man. I was very scared when I first arrived, and I found it hard to make friends.”

Suddenly, he lifted his head, glaring at the bound Andrew with a righteous anger in his youthful eyes.

“He and his friends ran the place, and they picked on anyone weaker than them…”

“That’s bullshit!” Andrew interjected, “I’ve never seen this kid before in my life!”

He soon regretted his angry outburst, as the host pressed the button, prompting a surge of electricity to shoot through the prisoner’s body. Andrew screamed in agony as his punishment was administered.

“Now now, scumbag,” the host rebuked, with a slight smile on his lips, “please don’t interrupt my guests. And I have warned you before about bad language…”

More canned laughter followed, as the still smoking victim barely retained consciousness.

“Please continue Daniel.” the host prompted.

“They made me their ‘special project’.” said Daniel, his voice growing in confidence as his anger took over. “They humiliated me, stole from me, beat me up…”

Tears began to form in his eyes as he struggled to finish his tragic story. “I couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t see any way out…So, I fashioned a noose from my belt and hanged myself in my dorm room. They found me the next morning. I was 12 years old…”

Andrew lifted his head, shaking it vigorously. “No, no, no…” he muttered emotionally, “that wasn’t my fault…I didn’t do that. That kid was messed up. He did it to himself. Every kid gets bullied in school, it’s part of growing up…”

Daniel spoke again, except this time his voice was unnaturally deep and almost inhuman – “You are responsible! You are guilty!”

Andrew seemed taken aback, frozen in fear and unable to respond. I think he was beginning to understand where he was and what was happening to him, and clearly he didn’t like it.

“Thank you for sharing your story, Daniel.” the host responded, “I think it gives us a flavor of who this scumbag was growing up. But…did he improve with age? Let’s find out by meeting our next guest!”

A female voice came through over the speakers, her tone bitter and full of anger. “Hey baby, remember me? I’m the girl you threw out like a piece of trash twenty years ago. But guess what baby? I’m back, and I’m going to make you pay.”

A moment later, a young woman marched out onto the stage in high heels. She wore a long floral dress and had her blonde hair tied back in a bun. The girl looked like she was in her late teens or early twenties. I would describe her as attractive, although her skin appeared unnaturally pale, and her eyes lacked any sparkle, instead seeming devoid of joy or happiness.

The audience applauded in grim unison as the young woman took a seat on the couch beside the schoolboy. She glared defiantly at the shackled prisoner, who lowered his head and refused to meet her gaze.

“Welcome, welcome young madam.” the host exclaimed amicably, “Thank you for joining us. Would you care to introduce yourself, and tell us your story?”

She nodded her head, only briefly averting her gaze from the helpless Andrew, who seemed to be faltering under her judgmental glare.

“My name is Sarah. I was a fresher in university when I first met him.” she began, with a barely contained rage in her voice. “It was my first time living away from home and I guess I was naïve and vulnerable. He was older and more experienced. We met in a bar, and he swept me off my feet. I didn’t know he already had a girlfriend….”

“We started a fling. He was my first, and I foolishly fell in love with him. And then I got pregnant. He said I couldn’t keep the baby, that I was too young, and it would ruin both our lives. The bastard said he loved me and promised to stick by me. But as soon as I had the abortion, he dumped me and went back to his sweetheart! I was left racked with guilt, heartbroken, and all alone, and so I turned to drink and drugs to dull the pain.”

She briefly paused, struggling to find the words to go on.

“One night, I went too far and overdosed. I was dead before the ambulance arrived. Nineteen years old with everything ahead of me…And my life was snuffed out, all because of him!”

She spat aggressively in Andrew’s direction. He raised his head, meeting her eye for the first time.

“No way…” he muttered through clenched teeth, “No way am I going to take this. First the kid, and now you! What kind of scam are you people trying to run here? Do you really expect me to feel guilty? We had a fling. We split up. It happens.

You made a choice to do drugs and screw up your life. That’s not on me! I’m not responsible!”

“You are responsible!” Sarah shot back, her voice suddenly deep and raspy, “You did this to me!”

“Shut your mouth bitch!” he screamed back.

A moment later, electricity passed through his body, causing him to convulse and squeal.

The host shook his head and smiled. “He never learns folks, does he?”

More canned laughter reverberated through the studio. The camera focused on Andrew, his head down as his body continued to shake, and he whimpered pathetically. He was in a pretty sorry state by this point, and I reckoned he couldn’t take much more of this physical and psychological torture. The enigmatic host seemed to realise this too, as he made his next announcement.

“Well scumbag, you’ve been through quite a lot tonight. So, you’ll be glad to hear our little show is almost over. But we have one last special guest to introduce…And this one is just dying to reconnect with you!”

Just then, a smartly dressed man marched confidently out onto the stage. He wore a tailored black suit and polished shoes. He was silver haired and perhaps in his 60’s, but still noticeably handsome, exerting confidence with his winning smile and cool stride. He walked right past the still bound Andrew, who looked on in astonishment, as if her literally couldn’t believe his eyes.

The mystery guest strode right up to the host, shaking him firmly by the hand, then greeting the other guests – Daniel and Sarah – before sitting down beside them. I noted how surprised everyone on stage appeared, including the host himself.

“Well well…” the host said, as he quickly regained his composure. “That was quite the entrance. It’s a pleasure to have you here on our little show. Now then, would you care to tell us your name and your story?”

The smart man’s grin widened as he nodded his head and spoke in a calm but assertive voice.

“Thank you, thank you. It’s a pleasure to be here, and to catch up with my old friend…”

He shot a cheeky smile and wink to the shackled Andrew. I noticed how pale the prisoner’s face had become. It looked like he was going to be physically sick.

“My name is Tom,” he continued in a more somber tone, “I worked in corporate banking. Made a good living, raised a family. All in all, I enjoyed a pretty happy life. Believe it or not, I tried to be one of the good guys…to put an end to the corrupt and illegal practices in the banking sector. But then this son-of-a-bitch came to work for us!”

He nodded across to Andrew, who still appeared paralyzed in shock.

“I saw potential in this young man when he first started. Thought I saw something of myself in him…He was smart, driven, and had great people skills. I took him under my wing, acting as his mentor. It all seemed to be going swimmingly. But, a few years down the line, I found out this scumbag was doing insider trading…”

He paused for dramatic effect. A series of co-ordinated boos came from the audience, and the host prompted Tom to continue his account.

“What did you do?” he asked.

Tom shrugged his shoulders before answering. “Well, I confronted him with the evidence. Told him I wouldn’t stand for it, saying I would alert the authorities if he didn’t turn himself in…Needless to say, he didn’t take it too well. Did you kid?”
Andrew shook his head vigorously. He opened his mouth to speak but apparently couldn’t find the words. It seemed he had no defence to offer on his occasion.

“Well, I gave him time to cool off. Trusted he would do the right thing in the end…big mistake.” Tom said, with a deep sigh. “I was out jogging one night when he got me. Ran me down in his BMW, leaving me to die on a lonely roadside.”
There followed a chorus of boos from the audience before Tom finished his tragic account.

“Well, our friend here had friends in the police force who helped him cover up the crime. The incident got written off as an unsolved hit and run, and this scumbag got away with murder. He made my wife a widow and left my children without a father…”

He stopped momentarily, his mood darkening as he glared upon his killer with vengeful eyes.

“You are responsible!” he boomed, “You took my life!”

Andrew shook uncontrollably in his chair, his head down. He looked utterly defeated, no longer able to offer any defence when faced with the grim reminder of his worst offence.

What happened next was…disturbing, to say the least. Andrew raised his head, showing his eyes were filled with tears. He looked to his accusers – to Daniel, Sarah and Tom. They no longer resembled human beings to me. Instead, their eyes were filled with a manic psychosis, while the sadistic grins on their faces were unnaturally wide, revealing razor sharp teeth, like those of blood-thirsty predators.

I don’t know whether Andrew even noticed their drastic change in appearance. Perhaps he no longer had any idea of what was occurring around him. He whimpered pathetically, struggling to speak the words through his now bone-dry lips.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry, okay. Is that what you want to hear?”

The trio of accusers didn’t reply, instead retaining their creepy grins and unblinking stares. Now desperate, Andrew turned to the host, pleading for some sort of explanation.

“What do you want from me?” the prisoner demanded, suddenly regaining his defiant voice, “What the hell do you want me to do?”

The host chuckled before responding, his face suddenly filled with an almost childlike excitement.

“Right now scumbag, we only want you to do one thing…RUN!”

Suddenly, the camera focused on Andrew as his shackles came loose. He sat there in stunned shock for a moment, slowly lifting his now free arms, staring in disbelief at his shaking hands. Andrew should have acted more quickly, and his delay proved fatal.

The camera angle changed, showing the three accusers now entirely transformed into something monstrous. Daniel, Sarah and Tom were no longer human, but now resembled a trio of blood-thirsty zombies, bearing sharp teeth as their hunger-filled eyes focused on the vulnerable prey.

Andrew screamed out in bloody terror when he saw them, acting on a survival instinct as he leapt up from his chair and fled across the stage. But the three monsters were after him in a flash, and boy were they fast. I watched on in horror as they leapt upon him, knocking the helpless Andrew down to the floor.

He kicked and screamed as they held him down, roaring like wild animals as they dug and bit into his exposed flesh. Andrew cried out in bloody agony as the monsters ripped and tore through skin and muscle. There was blood everywhere, with a crimson fountain spraying from a gaping hole in his neck. I guessed his jugular vein had been ripped open, and doubtless he would bleed out in a matter of minutes.

The camera focused on Andrew’s terror-filled face, his eyes wild with fear and pain, as the colour rapidly drained from his face. I watched as they finished him off, continuing to bite, tear, and feast on his still warm flesh, even after his life was finally extinguished.

I was sure this vicious attack wasn’t simulated. The violence, the blood…it was all too real. Andrew had not been a good man. That much was obvious from the accounts I’d heard. Nevertheless, he’d suffered a terrible death, and I couldn’t help but feel that nobody deserves such a horrendous fate.

I’d been so transfixed on the bloody carnage that I almost didn’t notice how the audience had erupted into loud and enthusiastic applause, clearly relishing and enjoying the extreme violence playing out before them. Suddenly, the image on screen shifted from Andrew’s body as the camera scanned the bizarre audience members, all of them now standing, clapping loudly and crying out in approval, their eyes betraying a sadistic pleasure as they played the part of sick voyeurs.
And then, the camera switched once again, showing the host sitting back in his chair, smiling contently as he soaked up the crowd’s adoration.

“Thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed, raising a hand to motion for silence. “What a show! What an audience! A big thanks to our special guests! While they continue to gnaw on our friend, it leaves me to bring tonight’s episode to a close…”

He paused briefly, blinking to reveal his true eyes… red and demonic, full of malice and hatred. I stared into those horrifying orbs and saw pure evil. It chilled me to my very soul, and yet I could not look away. When the host spoke again, his voice had changed, now sounding deep, disembodied, and extremely unnerving.

“But, before we go, I would like to give a shout out to a very special viewer…”

I still have difficulty understanding what happened next. It was impossible…but then, so was everything else I’d seen so far. The host called me out by name. In that moment, he spoke to me directly, through the television screen and across dimensions. I don’t know how this was possible, but this is what happened.

I could feel his eyes upon me, glaring directly into my soul as he searched the deepest and darkest corners of my mind.

“My friend,” he continued, “we have been watching your life with great interest. I look forward to the day I will welcome you as my guest…”

My heart froze in my chest, and I suddenly found I could not breathe. I remained frozen in place as the camera zoomed in on the host’s hideous face, focusing on his fiendish eyes. And then he began to laugh – a deep and cruel cackle that was awful to hear.

I couldn’t bear it any longer. Reaching for the remote, I tried to turn the television off, but found it would not respond. The horrendous laughter continued to fill my ears as I jumped up from the couch and darted across the room, yanking the plug from the wall.

To my astonishment, the television kept on playing even after the power was cut off. Those eyes, that laugh. I couldn’t take it. In a fit of anger, I lifted a lamp, ripping its plug from the wall. With all my might I threw it at the TV, watching with great relief as the screen shattered and went black, the host’s image finally disappearing. Then, I dropped down to my knees, holding my head in my hands as I cried out in desperation and pure terror.

It’s been years since that fateful night. I’ve never caught the hellish TV program again, nor have I found any trace of it online. But nevertheless, I cannot forget what I witnessed, nor can I escape the host’s terrifying threat – that one day, I will be his guest.

Now, I don’t regard myself as an evil person, but I have done some bad shit in my life – things I deeply regret but can’t take back. Since that night, I’ve lived in perpetual fear, dreading the day that I die, knowing that I’ll end up in that hellish dimension, strapped to a chair while the ‘host’ and his minions torment me.

I’ve spoken to psychiatrists and priests, searching for recovery or redemption, but I doubt it will make any difference. Deep down, I know what my fate will be, and I know full well what’s waiting for me on the other side.

And so, if like me, you suffer from insomnia and are prone to late night channel-surfing, you might just come across a sadistic talk show, and you might see me tethered to a chair, as my accusers come out one-by-one to seek their vengeance.

All I can ask is that you don’t judge me too harshly, because sooner or later, we all need to answer for our sins.

 

Credit : Woundlicker