To Tread Upon the Path of God

(This piece is an experimental, stream of consciousness kind-of-horror-kind-of-not story.  It was sort of written with 40k in mind, but is not all that specific to the setting)
I walked.

The road stretched out before me, endless black bitumen steaming under a baleful, crimson sun.  I looked straight ahead, eyes never wavering.  There was nothing to see in any case, the brownish sands of the desert as lifeless and barren as the path I strode upon.

I walked.

The pain struck me then, as it always did.  It was the cold first, a million microscopic shards of ice driving through my skin, through my muscles, my bones.  Every nerve fired simultaneously, exquisite agony turning to immeasurable pleasure,  embracing me like an old friend.   I smiled as the pinpricks of blood appeared.  The aching, overwhelming agony was almost refreshing in the heat of that never ending day.

I walked.

My mother stood before me, dug up from the ground, her grey, shrivelled mouth open in a silent scream.  Rotten hands clawed at me, tearing my skin, trying to pull me down into the bitter earth.  My father appeared then, his visage even more cadaverous, bare bone showing through maggot-infested flesh.  My sister came next.  My two younger brothers.  My Wife.  My children.  They surrounded me, the spectres of my lost loved ones raining blows down upon me with supernatural strength, silently mouthing their banshee wails.  I smiled as I looked into their dead eyes.  I did not fear them; I had killed them myself.

I walked.

A cool breeze came up from the south, gently caressing my skin.  It seemed to push me softly, almost lovingly, away from the centre of the road, like a sparrow encouraging its chick from the nest. The dusty haze over the desert lifted then, the bulbous, heavy sun making the oasis that suddenly appeared sparkle as made of sapphire.  The wind pushed me toward this haven in the desert, and for one moment my feet almost stepped from the centre of the road, the old temptation returning.  My lips cracked as I smiled, fresh blood cascading in dark rivulets down my chin.  I would not be swayed.

I walked.

The road began to burn, instantly turning the hellfire orange of hot coals.  My feet blistered and popped, the stinking sizzle of barbequing meat filling my nostrils.  Every step was excruciating, my flesh melting to the path before tearing free again, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind me.  The road grew hotter still, turning pure white, blinding me with its brilliance.  I stumbled forward, sobbing, as the surface I walked upon burst into flame.  My skin ran and flowed, bubbling like boiling wax.  Tears dried as my eyes burst.  My lips had fused together, but somehow I smiled.

I walked.

My shadow lengthened behind me, though the sun never moved from its omnipresent station hovering above the road.  It swirled unnaturally, a stretched, grotesquely two-dimensional extension of my own body, dragging itself across the black surface until it laid flat before me.  Slowly, it stood up, peeling itself away from the road; a huge, all-consuming doppelganger.  It ignored me, surprisingly, instead walking ahead, making me follow in its footsteps,  its elongated form blocking out the crimson sun.  I could not look away.  It forced me to stare into the void at its heart.  I wavered.  This was new.  I stared into the depths of this shadowy clone, and bile rose in my throat as I witnessed the true horror of my soul.  I experienced every torture, every killing, every act of chaos.  I smiled, secretly pleased.

I walked.

The ball of liquid fire in the sky began to roil, tongues of dirty flame erupting outward across the sickly blue horizon.  It expanded before my eyes, impossibly fast, until I could see only red.  The heat was unimaginable, but this was not the price to be paid.  I wiped my brow, almost coming to a halt as I felt the great lump of hair and flesh come away into my hand.  The cancers began their rabid gnawing, tumourous growths spreading throughout my body on a wave of entropic malfeasance. My skin shrivelled before my eyes, though whether from the sun’s deathly radiation or as a symptom of the cancers, I did not know.  There was no pain.  I smiled as the weakness washed over me, exquisite numbness bringing me to my knees.  He was full of surprises this day.

I crawled.

“You would represent God?” screamed the priest, spittle flying as he loomed over my prostrated body. “You have no faith, no will to do His work!” He reared back, delivering a kick that snapped my head back, almost snapping my neck.  I smiled up at him, saying nothing as I dragged myself along the road, bloody sputum flecked by shards of teeth dripping from my bruised lips.  “Worm, you are nothing before the eyes of God!” The zealot twitched furiously as he made this last pronouncement, black and white robes billowing behind him as he kicked me again and again.  Spitting blood, I continued to smile.  By the death on my hands and the fear I had spread, I knew my God.

I crawled.

It did not end.  The priest continued his assault, my blood and fragments of bone flecking the toe of his pale leather boot.  My collarbone snapped, making me fall forward onto my battered face.  I dragged myself through the dirt, unable to rise.  He continued to kick me.  Ribs shattered.  My hip dislocated.  I felt my skull cave in, brain matter oozing through the cracks like oil seeping from the earth.  I could crawl no longer.  The smile threatened to slip from my broken face.  This had never happened before.

I died.

I lay upon my back in the middle of the road, dead eyes staring up at the bloody sun, now perfectly bisecting an impossibly black-and-white sky.  It stared back, the great crimson eye of God blinking as it gazed upon me, deific disgust palpable, crushing this vessel into the ground.

TERROR.

Broken bones began to re-knit, not at all gently.

ANARCHY.

I screamed.  Agony?  Ecstasy?

DEATH.

My lifeblood flowed back into my body, as though time wound backwards.

MALICE.

Ecstasy.  My God spoke to me!

WOULDST THOU BE MINE PROPHET?

I nodded, bones turning to liquid, heart pulverised by the word of God.

THOU HAS FAILED ME.

My body was ripped apart before I could contemplate a response, vaporous daemons appearing as if from nowhere, rending claws flensing the skin from my unworthy bones.

THOU SHALT NOT WAVER IN THINE DUTY.

I reformed once more, my soul returning from the suckling vortex that was the ever-present companion to my existence.

THOU ART YET UNWORTHY.

I nodded again, tears coming unbidden.  I had failed once more. I had disappointed God.

PROVE THYSELF.

The road stretched out before me, endless black bitumen steaming under a baleful, crimson sun.  I looked straight ahead, eyes never wavering.  There was nothing to see in any case, the brownish sands of the desert as lifeless and barren as the path I strode upon.

I walked.