Tonight's Zelda's Inferno exercise: writing off of a phrase provided by another workshop participant, "It sounded like Satan snoring on a down bed as the sun rose over the hills."
It sounded like Satan snoring, a deep vibration that filled everything, set the glass and the girders shaking in sympathy, moved the floor under my back and set my vertebrae ringing like the chimes of a vibraphone. Satan snoring, sleeping in as the red sun rose over the hills of Hell, lying on a soft bed stuffed with the down of angel wings, a sound low and primal.
It sounded like Satan snoring, the sound of the Lord of The Flies tearing the air as a half-dozen 2-stroke leaf-blower motors fired up outside my bedroom window.
It sounded like Satan snoring, the sound of dreams being torn and rendered.
It sounded like Satan snoring, evil satisfied and resting.
It sounded like Satan snoring, evil taking the morning off.
It sounded like Satan snoring. It reminded me of my father. Not that my dad is evil, he just SNORED!
It sounded like Satan snoring, a hellish cacophony made up of screams and earthquakes and laughter and rot.