Voice of salvation... maybe

Then I heard a voice It was soothing and comforting This voice was calling out my name

“Hello,?” I answered “Are you here to save me?” I knew this was unlikely but hope springs eternal, no?

“No.” The voice was no less comforting no less warm, but at the same time it was full of a kind of exhaustion.

“Can you, help me fix this, or get me out of this…” I hated to admit where I was, considering I had denied its existence for most of my life, “… hell?”

The was now truly exhausted and the warm though there was waning “O, Clemens Dea, Why do I get crétins de merde.” I recognized some of what he had said I think it was a man’s voice, it was soft and gentle like a woman’s voice but in the end, it felt like a man What surprised me the most was that the words sounded French I would have thought that here language would be more of a thought to thought thing, but perhaps I did think in English and here this ‘voice’ was thinking in French

“I am sorry, I don’t speak French, can you please stick to English.” I did not want to anger the voice but my options were limited

“It’s not French,” admonished the voice, in the darkness of the abyss

“It isn’t,” I pondered, “then what is it?”

“It is Infernal, the language of Hell.” There was a sigh, or something like a sigh “They are much the same, but one was use by Satan, and the other by Joan of Arc.”