‘I Was Dead for 8 Hours, Trapped in Hell With Screaming Souls’

People think hell is a myth, a scare tactic, a metaphor.

I can tell you it’s more real than the ground under your feet.

I looked around, and the first thing that struck me was the absence of everything familiar. There was no sunlight, no trees, no breeze. No music, no laughter, no scent of life. The air was heavy, thick with despair. The ground beneath me was dry and cracked, colored in hues of deep red and purple. Jagged cliffs rose around me, their surfaces glistening like burnt glass.

And everywhere I looked — everywhere — there were souls. Endless, countless souls. In front of me, behind me, beside me. They weren’t standing in neat rows; they were writhing, twisting, trembling in agony. Each one lost in their own torment, unable to speak, unable to connect. Hell is crowded, but everyone is alone.

Then I saw the demons.

They weren’t cartoon creatures with pitchforks. They were enormous — towering beings, three, four, five stories tall. Their forms shifted in the darkness like shadows given flesh. They wore capes that rippled as if alive, and their faces… I can’t even describe them fully. Some looked like beasts, others like distorted humans. Their eyes glowed with hatred — not toward each other, but toward us. They knew we were theirs.

I didn’t need to ask who was in charge. I knew these were the gods of this place — the rulers of hell. They walked among the souls like wardens in a prison, not needing to swing a whip, because the pain was already complete.

The Pain That Never Ends

On earth, I’d known sadness, fear, even physical pain. But this… this was pain in every dimension of existence.

Imagine every regret you’ve ever had — every shame, every betrayal, every loss — all crashing into you at once. Imagine your body burning but never consumed, your mind screaming but never silenced. The pain didn’t come from outside me; it came from within, like my own soul was on fire.

The ground itself pulsed with anguish. I could feel it vibrating beneath my feet, like the earth was alive with suffering. People around me screamed — not short cries, but deep, guttural roars that never ended. Their voices blended into one endless wail, a sound so loud it became silence.

The worst part wasn’t the fire. It wasn’t even the demons. It was the absence. The complete and total absence of God.

On earth, even when you feel far from Him, His mercy is still present. Theologians call it common grace. The sun still rises. Rain still falls. People still love. Even in pain, there’s a flicker of beauty that reminds you God is near.

But in hell, that flicker is gone. There is no grace. No hope. No presence. No light. The love of God has been completely withdrawn, and what remains is a world without Him — a world that humanity chose when it chose sin over surrender.

I knew, supernaturally, that I deserved to be there. I had considered myself a good person — polite, loyal, generous, not hurting anyone “too much.” But in that moment, I understood the truth: there is no “good enough.” The Bible says, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). And there, in hell, the meaning of that verse was not theology — it was reality.

The Revelation of Sin

As I stood there, I felt stripped bare — not of clothes, but of excuses. I saw the real me: proud, rebellious, selfish. I had rejected God my whole life, chasing pleasure and enlightenment and my own ideas of truth. I had worshiped creation instead of the Creator. I had prayed to false gods, bowed before idols, and trusted in my own goodness.

And now I was in the place reserved for rebellion.

People often ask me, “Did you see fire? Did you see flames?” Yes. But not the kind you can see in a campfire. This fire was alive — it burned through me, not around me. It wasn’t orange or red; it was colorless, invisible, yet more real than heat itself. I felt it in my spirit. My soul was burning with the knowledge that I had rejected the very God who made me.

The Bible says in Mark 9:48 that hell is where “the worm does not die and the fire is not quenched.” I understand that now. The “worm” is not just an insect — it’s the gnawing of regret that never dies. The “fire” is not just heat — it’s the consuming guilt that never ends.

Every second, I thought, This is forever. And the word forever took on a meaning I had never known.

On earth, forever means “a long time.” In hell, it means no time at all. There’s no beginning, no end, no sense of progress. Just endless now.

The Crowded Solitude

At some point, I realized how strange hell is. It’s full of people, yet utterly silent in spirit. Nobody talks. Nobody comforts. Nobody prays. Each person is sealed inside their own punishment, locked in isolation though surrounded by billions.

I glanced to my right and saw a man with his mouth open as if screaming, but no sound came out. His eyes were wide, full of terror, but he didn’t move. He was frozen in his own suffering. I wanted to help him, to ask, “Do you see me? Do you know what’s happening?” But I couldn’t speak either. My tongue felt heavy, my voice gone.

There was no compassion in me — only agony. That’s another horror of hell: love dies there.

The Bible says that God is love (1 John 4:8), which means that in the absence of God, there is the absence of love. I realized how much of my ability to care, to hope, to feel anything good was because of His grace. Without Him, I was not just lost — I was less than human.

I saw movement above — not angels, but shadows passing across the sky, if you could call it sky. There was no light, yet I could see perfectly. The darkness wasn’t natural; it was supernatural. It wasn’t the kind of dark where you strain your eyes. It was a living thing that swallowed sight itself.

The Memory of Mercy

Somewhere in that torment, I remembered my mother’s face — her prayers, her tears. It was as if God allowed me one memory of mercy so I could understand what I had lost.

I thought of the nights she called out to Buddha for help and the silence that answered. I thought of the times my Christian friends invited me to church, and I mocked them. I remembered the “grandfather spirit” who told me I could trade my life for 50,000 fewer years in hell. Now I knew he was a liar.

The devil never offers mercy — only deals that lead to destruction. Jesus said in John 10:10, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.” That verse became flesh before my eyes.

Eight Hours That Felt Like Eternity

I was in hell for eight hours — that’s what the doctors later said. To me, it felt like both five minutes and five thousand years. Time didn’t exist. Pain was the only clock.

Every moment stretched into infinity. I lost sense of sequence — there was no “before” or “after,” only the constant awareness that this would never stop.

The fear alone was unbearable. On earth, fear eventually breaks — you wake from the nightmare, the panic attack ends, the threat passes. But in hell, fear is the atmosphere. It never stops tightening. It’s like drowning, but you never die.

When I was finally pulled out — when I woke up in the hospital surrounded by praying Christians — I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was still there. I was drenched in tears and terror. One of the pastors leaned close and said, “You saw hell, didn’t you?” I nodded. He said, “Do you want to make Jesus your Lord?”

And I said yes. Not because I wanted religion — but because I had just seen the alternative.

The Reality of Hell

Afterward, I studied Scripture for years. I needed to know if what I saw was biblical. And the more I read, the more I realized it was.

Jesus spoke of hell more than anyone else in the Bible. He called it “outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matthew 8:12). In Luke 16, He described a man tormented by flames, separated from comfort by a great chasm that no one could cross. Revelation 20 calls it “the lake of fire,” where both the devil and unbelievers are cast forever.

People ask, “If God is love, why does hell exist?” Because God is also holy. Love without holiness is indulgence. Holiness without love is cruelty. But God is perfect in both. He desires that none should perish (2 Peter 3:9), yet He will not force love. Hell is not where God sends people who beg to go to Heaven — it’s where people go who spend their whole lives saying, “Leave me alone.”

Hell is the ultimate fulfillment of that request. God says, “Okay, I’ll give you what you wanted — a life without Me.”

And that is hell.

The Lie of the Enemy

The biggest lie of the devil is that hell isn’t real. The second biggest is that it isn’t forever.

I used to believe both. Buddhism taught me that everything recycles — that hell, if it exists, is temporary, a cleansing stop before reincarnation. But that’s not what I saw. That’s not what Jesus taught.

Hell is final.

It is eternal separation from God.

It is the place where mercy no longer reaches.

And the saddest part? It’s full. It’s crowded. I remember thinking, Heaven must be smaller than this. That broke my heart even while I was there. Because the Father desires that all come to repentance — yet most don’t.

If even one person reading my story decides to follow Jesus and avoid that place, then every second of those eight hours was worth it.

Why God Let Me See It

For years I asked God, Why me? Why did You show me that? And one night, I felt Him speak to my heart: Because you would remember.

I remember it vividly — the darkness, the despair, the weight of my own sin. I can still smell the sulfur, still hear the screams. It’s burned into my spirit, not to torment me, but to compel me. To preach. To warn. To plead.

Jesus didn’t die to make bad people good — He died to make dead people live. He came to save us from something. That something is hell.

I don’t share my story for fame or sympathy. I share it because eternity is real, and time is short. Every day, people step from this life into the next. Some wake to the light of Heaven. Others wake to the darkness I saw.

I wish I could tell you there’s another way, but there isn’t. Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” (John 14:6)

A Final Plea

Maybe you’ve wondered if hell is real. Maybe you’ve thought, “I’m a good person. God will understand.” I used to think the same. But good doesn’t get you into Heaven. Only grace does.

If you don’t know Jesus — or if you’ve walked away — this is your moment. Don’t gamble with eternity. You don’t choose if you live forever. You choose where.

Pray with me:

Lord Jesus, I believe You are the Son of God.
You died for my sins and rose again.
I repent of my pride, my unbelief, and every false god I trusted.
I surrender my heart to You.
Save me, forgive me, and fill me with Your Holy Spirit.
I choose You today, and I will follow You all the days of my life.
In Your mighty name, amen.

If you prayed that, don’t stop there. Get into the Word. Find a church that preaches truth. Surround yourself with believers. And live like Heaven is real — because it is.

I know — I’ve seen the other side.

And trust me… You don’t want to go there.