The Gluttony Circle: A Feast Without End

Descending further into the dark abyss of Hell, I arrived at the third circle, reserved for the sin of Gluttony. The air was thick and heavy with an unbearable stench, a vile mixture of decay, spoiled food, and stagnant water. Rain fell incessantly—not of water, but of filth, foul-smelling slush that splattered upon the already swampy ground. This was a place of eternal consumption, not of pleasure but of torment. As I ventured further, I saw them—souls trapped in endless cycles of indulgence. They crawled on hands and knees, desperately licking scraps of rotting food that materialized in the mud. Their eyes were hollow, their mouths stretched wide, perpetually yearning for satisfaction they could never attain. Some gorged themselves on the filthiest morsels, only to retch and begin the process again. “What is this madness?” I asked my guide. “This is the fate of those who, in life, made their bellies their gods,” he replied. “They consumed without care for balance, without thought of those who starved. Now, they are condemned to wallow in what they once worshipped.” Among the wretched cries, I noticed one figure sitting apart from the rest, surrounded by mountains of food. Their plate refilled endlessly, yet every bite they took crumbled to ash in their mouth. They screamed in frustration, smashing their fists into the table, only for the ash to reform and taunt them anew. My guide explained, “In life, this soul hoarded abundance while others starved. Their gluttony was not merely for sustenance but for dominance and excess. Now, they sit in solitude, drowning in their false riches, unable to taste the bounty they once coveted.” The ground shifted beneath us, and I was suddenly drawn to another part of this cursed circle. Here, I saw the modern gluttons—those whose sin extended beyond physical consumption. These souls were tethered to glowing screens, their hands furiously scrolling through images of perfect meals and indulgent feasts. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes red from sleepless nights of endless scrolling, longing for what they could not have. “These are the souls who fed their desires through fantasies,” my guide explained. “They devoured with their eyes and minds, yet their hunger only grew. Now they are trapped in this digital feast, condemned to crave forever.” As we moved through the mire, I noticed that the rain grew heavier, the filth deeper. The souls cried out, some pleading for mercy, others blaming the very indulgence that now punished them. I turned to my guide. “Do they not see the futility of their actions?” He shook his head. “They are consumed by their hunger, blinded by it. The more they consume, the emptier they feel. That is the true punishment of Gluttony—an endless void that cannot be filled.” With that, we left the Circle of Gluttony behind, its wails fading into the distance. Yet, the image of those hollow souls remained with me, a haunting reminder of the perils of excess and the emptiness it leaves behind.