Imagine the grit that gets stuck under your nails. The kind you can't get out without running your teeth along the under side of your filthy finger. The grit then sticks in your teeth and you have a crunch that sticks with you as you eat through out the day. That's what Hel is like. They named the city as a joke. Zion was suppose to be heaven, a glowing city of lights. While Hel was for the damned souls that couldn't make it to heaven.
The cosmic joke was played well on my dark city. There are no neon lights here. The city is never graced by a ray of sunlight nor the warmth of nature. Nothing grows down here except phosphorecent mushrooms and lichyn that lines the raw rock walls. There are buildings in the city, even sky scrapers. We call them earth touchers here. Once upon a time this moldering city sat above ground but now it's sunk so far below no one can even remember the names of the buildings.
The Neo-ites rarely come down from their glittering thrones unless they need something jacked. Jacking, in your terms, is hacking. A jacker will steal into your files, rip up the data they need and leave before you even notice your plasma block was breeched. Your head will be left churning as memories are erased, transactions are deleted or complete human links are severed from the main server. They can kill you digitally with one flick of a finger. Most of the Neo's who visit the Jacker's are business men. They're the government up there. They hold all the power now thanks to commercial capitalism.
I bet you're wondering how I know so much. Well humble reader I am one of these mystical Jacker's. I think you are imagining me to be one of your 21st century internet wizards. I assure you I have no neck beard nor do I play on 4chan discussing ponys in length with other grown men.
We are the Collective.
A group of jackers formed from the fallen elite. Most of us used to be Neo's but after the trials we were exiled here to pay for our crimes. Crimes the commercial government payed us to do. But that's why we're getting revenge.

The sky clashes with the bright city. It's darkness can't reach inside the dome but it stays, stalking the light like a hungry beast. Inside the glass dome the city is like a techno candyland. Neon lights flash in every window, dancing signs splatter across sidewalks and window frames. The whole city is one big commercial. The people in the city are unlike most. They bare no resemblance to normalcy any more. Some have dyed skin the color of rainbows while others have skull implants that make them look like demons. They look like faeries or angels with gnashing teeth that don't fit their jaws and wings that flicker but cannot hold them up for glamour. These people are called the Neo-ites.
The Neo-ites are rich with money in stocks or housing while the Underlings, the impoverished people of the city, rot in filth. Under the flashing lights and pounding night clubs the spidery spindles of the city sink deep into the ground. The city below is a dark shadow of the city above. In the deep chasms carved out by the old subways, opium dens and technology tunnels of the past live the Underlings. The people below look haunted, their cheeks sallow from lack of light and gaunt from lack of food. The Underlings can gain entrance into the shining world above but this is rare. However the amount of Neo-ites that have fallen from grace is high.
I being one of them.
Zeyea, my Mother used to say, don't look into the chasm or the chasm will look into you. But I have looked into the abyss one to many times to go back into the lights.

The air was completely still. Only the nearly hidden crackle of leaves falling broke the heavy silence. I had wanted a windy night with a ripe apple moon hanging over my head, I got a calm, moonless sky. Abby flew out behind me, she was always at my side. My sweet chihuahua baby. I was still hot from the bath I had taken not two minutes before so the cold did not stick to my skin. I didn't even feel it when I chalked out my circle on the patio. The night gown I wore was thin, my breath streamed out in puffs. Still no cold. So I sat on the blanket I had brought out with me. I first lit the incense, then the candle, then the sage. The sage hit my nose like a fog horn. Fresh, it smelled earthy and bitter with a hint of sweetness. But as the flame ate the leaf into charcoal it turned musky. The strong Naga Champa was no match for the sage, the incense took a back seat to the first scent.
I called my circle as I flung salt around me. Abby's small blonde body darted into the leafy darkness of the backyard. Most witches had cats or birds for familiars but I was unlike most witches. Abby maybe small but her instincts were that of a wolf's. She knew who was bad and who was not. She always stayed with me when I preformed magic. Tonight was like any other night.
I'm not sure what the spell was. Or even if it was a spell. It was more so me sitting in the middle of a circle trying to think. What do I ask for? Calm. Peace of mind. Those things come with time not with magic.
So I asked for Abby to be kept safe. And I thanked the God and Goddess for their continuing support. I thanked them for helping me with this school year and the good fortune we've had. I could not ask for much more besides that. As I finished Abby wandered up to me. Anxious she pawed at my thigh then crawled into my lap. She wheezed for a second which frightened me. I dismissed the circle, gathered my things and stumbled back inside. My circle re-hidden by leaves.

This is something I was going to write in my make-up blog but I realized it was to heavy to post there. So I decided to post it here.
Depression has been a big part of my life since I was a child. When I was ten my Grandmother passed away from liver cancer and part of my Mother died with her. She went from being healthy and loving to bed ridden and distant. Being a child I didn't understand why she was like this. I had thought it was something I had done, maybe I hadn't been a good enough daughter. Maybe I hadn't done the right chores. My youngest brother was a baby at the time so I had to take care of him.
It was difficult to do but like most children who live through these situations I grew up quickly. About six months into my Mother's depressive state my Father took her to see a doctor. The doctor told her that the depression she'd had since she was a teenager had taken over her life. She was given medication replace the chemical imbalance in her brain. Through a course of weeks I saw my Mother slowly coming back. Some days she'd only be able to lay in bed but others she'd be up playing with us like she had used to. I relished the days I had with her.
By the time I was a teenager my Mother was doing much better. She was finally able to find the right medicine combination to help keep her dangerous thoughts at bay. She still struggles with it and every once in a while she can't get out of bed. But thanks to my Dad those days don't last very long. He never left her side through the hard times.
Somedays it's hard for me to remember those days. They still bring me to tears at the very thought. A day doesn't go by that I wonder what my life would have been like if she hadn't lost herself. But those are thoughts for another day.

Can't sleep again.
I just wish I could.
Place my thumbs against my eyelids and press.
No sleep comes with stress.
No sleep comes with fear.
I lay awake wishing.
I can't abuse the niquil anymore,
nor light a small green thing
I will count my heart beat.
Or his beside me.
He sleeps so easily.
I am jealous.
Why does it hide from me like a scorned cat.
It always embraces him fast.
Here I lay, in the perfect bed
and I cannot sleep.
Fuck this.
I'll smoke another cigarette instead.

Bright light blasts me in the face without kindness.
I try to squint to hinder the agony in my corneas.
Computer screens are bloody bright.
Slumber edges away at my eyes.
I can feel the dust crumbling away.
When I scrap my hand against my eye,
sand tumbles out into my palm.
It feels like my face is falling away.
I scramble to the banks of a sea.
Somehow transported a million miles away from my bed.
This does not feel like a restful dream.
The sea churns with a black light from with in the depths.
I shield my eyes away from the ocean.
Around the thrashing mass of black the ocean turns red.
It's me under the water.
A gnashing set of teeth dragging me down to my watery grave.
The me on land shivers as the me under the waves lets out one last scream.
Bubbles replace my last breath.
This is not a good omen.
I grasp at waking, the alarm has gone off.
This is the first time I am thankful to be woken.

Sometimes I think I'm Frodo. My love for the shire makes it hard for me to leave this place. The rolling hills, the grassy plains and secret forests. I can't leave here it's so beautiful. But the ring pulls me. I have to grow up. I have to face the Mordor of adulthood. This Peter Pan syndrome has gone on for to long.

The moth batters against the window screen.
Fighting towards the light.
It's delicate wings dusting against the iron.
I hear it fall to the ground outside.
A gentle plop.

Today I tried to become one with the Earth.
I hoped I could slip into the ground.
Force myself to become a liquid.
I would sink in to wear the mantle like a crown.
Instead all I could hear was the call of the crows.
The hiss of the wind in the trees.
The blessings of autumn.
As one leaf fluttered down from it's perch.
The season is upon us.

This was a bad idea.
I shouldn't have left.
My stomach keeps clenching from fear.
I don't want to be here anymore.
My dorm room is cold without you.
All I want to do is go back to sleeping next to you.
I can barely wake up for classes.
I'm so depressed.
I can only watch as people walk by my window.
Julia drags me outside sometimes.
Thank God. I wouldn't have left my room if not for her.
I want to wake up where you are.