#DivineHell Extra

Cerberus ran along the empty streets, dodging packs of party goers and the odd passed out person. The huge hellhound stopped to sniff the air, he was near. The right head turned to go right, the left wanted to go left, and the middle wanted to go straight ahead.

After minutes of growling, biting and snarling, Cerberus raced onwards. Petty squabbling would have to wait. The grey asphalt flew beneath the hellhound as it closed in on the target.

A tall form, wrapped in a black cloak turned to face the hound. Cerberus stopped before him, scaly tail wagging.

“What is it lad… lads?” The Grim Reaper knelt down before the hound. “Did little Timmy fall into a well again?”

The middle and left head growled while the right head slapped its paw into its forehead.

“Come to think of it, Timmy never did fall into a well.” Grim patted the middle head of the hellhound. “What is it lads, tell me.”

Cerberus lifted its paws to the side of its head, forming makeshift horns.

“Lucifer, something’s up with him. Is he in trouble again?”

The three heads nodded up and down in unison. The hound stopped to think for a moment, then drew its legs against itself and laid down on the pavement.

“Lucifer is dead?” The bony jaw dropped.

“Arf!” The three heads bared their teeth.

Grim’s bony hand jammed his jaw back up. “Not dead, I take it. Hell would be in an uproar without its leader… bound?”

“Woof!” The scaly tail thumped up and down, sending up a puff of dust.

“Bound, probably in a confined place like a closet. But why?” Grim fell silent for a moment. He lifted a finger up towards the dark sky. “Did God try to order Lucifer to be kinder to the damned?”

“Woof!”

“Reapers are neutral, we don’t mess with God or Lucifer.” The black hood fell off as Grim shook his head. He lifted his hands up in protest. “It’s their issue, find someone else.”

Cerberus pointed at itself, lifted his paws into horns again, then patted the pavement. The hellhound’s faces looked around confused, one head barked at the other as if asking for direction. The shoulders of the hound lifted up, then down.

“Minion of the devil, up here, lost and confused… Edwin?” His jaw dropped to the ground this time. Grim picked it up, brushed the dust of and jammed it back. “The young sod’s got himself mixed up in all of this? He can’t even make his way through hell, what’s he doing down there?”

Cerberus merely shrugged. Three pairs of ears lifted up and three pairs of eyes lit up. “Woof?”

“I rather like that bloke, shame if something’s happened to him.” Grim lifted his hand to his brow and shook his head. “I’m going to make a dog’s dinner out of this, but I have to do something.”

“Woof?”

“No, not food. It means I’m likely going to make things worse by intervening. Follow me, I know what to do.”

On the corner of a street populated by young party goers a young woman stood on a wooden box, waving her hands and shouting: “You’re all going to hell in a handbasket—” The street prophet fell silent as a cold blade touched her throat.

“God, I’ve got a scythe on your favourite prophet’s throat!” The Grim Reaper gritted the teeth he still had. HQ would be furious again. “Call off the oddball angel and let Lucifer do his job. I’m sure you’ve made your point.”

“I’m a favourite?” The prophet’s face brightened. “Woo hoo!”

Clad in an orange and red outfit, the angel Rowan appeared out of thin air. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists!”

One of the party goers turned his head towards the scene, but saw only the street preacher standing silent, her head oddly bent back.

“Do I get a say in this?” The street preacher looked up at The Reaper’s skeletal face. The hollow eye sockets revealed nothing of his intent.

If Grim had had flesh and muscles to move them he would have frowned. “I recall that you hijacked Hell.”

“Lucifer didn’t follow orders!” Wings unfurled behind Rowan, filling the air with a warm light.

“You can’t order a fallen angel, especially the Devil.” The Grim Reaper waved his free arm in the air. “You coerce and threaten, but you don’t hit him over the head with a holy book and shove him in a closet. That’s just wrong, man… angel.”

Rowan crossed his arms and lifted his wings higher in attempt of intimidation.

Grim stood still; he’d seen angels before while taking souls to heaven. “If Lucifer agrees to give the damned a break every century, will you leave?”

Rowan looked up, then nodded. “Upstairs agrees.” He snorted. “If the old goat bottom agrees, all’s fine.”

“Blimey, God agrees?” The scythe fell from the street preacher’s throat. Grim took a step back. “You deal with Lucifer. I have a football riot to attend to.”

The closet door opened, the sudden flash of light assaulting Edwin and Lucifer’s eyes. Rowan stepped into the opening, his arms crossed across his chest. “If you allow the damned a holiday once every decade—”

“Hundred years.” Lucifer spat the words.

“Alrighty, every hundred years, I’ll leave and not come back unless ordered to.” The angel cocked his head and lifted his brow, waiting for an answer.

“If you ever show your face here again, I will have the demons chop off your wings and use them to clean the soot of the walls,” Lucifer’s dark eyes glittered as he imagined the scene, “and play basketball with that pretty little head of yours.”

“Fine.” Rowan pulled out a small knife and sliced through the ropes binding Edwin. He gave the youngster a dark look. “Shove me against a wall again and you will have no business knocking on heaven’s door.”

“I work for him.” Edwin glanced at the fuming Lucifer. “I think I lost the chance for eternal life in the clouds when I signed.”

“Ever heard of repenting? God forgives.” Rowan placed the knife in Edwin’s hand. “I’m off.”

Edwin cut Lucifer’s ropes and got up to leave, when the Boss’s cold voice made him turn around. “Edwin, what were you doing down here?”

“Oh, nothing, just stopping by.” He swallowed hard; now was not the time to point out the fact that he didn’t get paid enough.

“I doubt that.” The Devil flexed his sore arms, clawed fingers extended towards the roof. “Now, Edwin I have a job for you. Find a way to make that angel pay for what he did.”

All colour fled Edwin’s face and his jaw dropped. He’d do it, it was his job and Lucifer had gotten him out of the Loony Bin. Even Hell was better than that.

#DivineHell: Treachery

We've reached the end. Hope you enjoyed the five circles of Hell. Ya’ll come back now, y’hear?

“Lucifer is in his office. I wouldn’t disturb him I were you.” Rowan shot Edwin an annoyed glance.

“Oh god, shut up.” Edwin’s fingers curled around the doorknob, shaped like a demons head.

“Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain!” The Tour Guide bellowed in anger.

“What?“ As he turned around, a thick book with a cross embedded on the cover smashed into his face.

Something moved in the darkness of the closet. “Sir?”

“God demanded that the damned have a day off once in a while. I disagreed. Rowan shows up, then I wake here.” Lucifer shifted into a more comfortable position. “Now that he’s ruined my life’s work he’s posing as a bloody Tour Guide! It was supposed to be damnation without relief!”

“I though you and God had an agreement. How do we—“ A sharp glance from the Devil silenced Edwin.

“We wait until Cerberus finds help.”

#DivineHell: Violence

Welcome to the Seventh Circle. There's no turning back now :)

“Listen to me!” Edwin’s pale face had reddened from the shouting. “I am not one of the damned!”

Rowan’s brow furrowed, lines appearing on his forehead. “Well, what are you then?”

“An above ground employee.” He buried his face in his hands. “Now, please take me to Lucifer. I have a message for him.”

“You’re lying to get out of your punishment.” Rowan flung an accusing finger at Edwin, who returned it with a flat stare.

“You - asked for this.” Fear was written clearly on Rowan’s face as he hit the wall. Edwin’s free hand was drawn back, fingers in a tight fist.

Eyes wide Rowan uttered: “You wouldn’t dare.”

Leisurely Edwin’s fingers curled around The Tour Guide’s throat. “I work part-time for the Devil.”

Rowan looked down, then up. This was not what he had signed up for. “Alright! I’ll take you to Lucifer!”

#DivineHell: Fraud

DivineHell challenge continues. Congratulations for making it this far down :)

The Tour Guide waved his hand in greeting. “Ah, hello Edwin, did you find your level?”

“I'm not—” Edwin sighed wearily. “What’s happened to the punishments of the damned?”

“The Boss decided the damned needed a little break.” The smile on Rowan’s round face was innocent.

“What?” Edwin’s jaw dropped. Slowly an expression of realisation crept across his face. “You don’t work here, do you?”

“Of course I work for the devil.” Behind his back Rowan crossed his fingers. “You calling me a fraud?”

Edwin crossed his arms across his chest. “Well, what’s the devil’s favourite song?”

Rowan’s face went utterly blank. “March of Mephisto?”

“Yes, you’re right…” Edwin said. No, he thought. What the hell was going on? Lucifer loved “Fire” by Arthur Brown. He always started the day by shouting “I am the god of hellfire!”, everyone knew that. He would get to the bottom of this, one way or another.

#DivineHell: Heresy

Second part of the DivineHell challenge. The tour of Hell continues…

The Tour Guide of Hell fanned himself with the list of the damned and their punishments as he walked downwards. Stopping at the lip of a pit he waved his hand and said: “And here are the heretics.”

“God is dead!” A solitary fist rose from the dimness.

“Well then, who put you in here?” Rowan pushed a young man in a cape and pointed hat into the pit. “Off you go, pagan.”

The youngster stumbled down; once he regained equilibrium he threw off his hat and stepped on it. “I died while live-roleplaying, I’m not a real heretic!”

“That’s what they all say!” He shouted over his shoulder. “Now, begin writing the Hail Marys. You’ve got plenty of work to do before the end of times.”

A damned lifted his hand. “What happened to the flaming tombs?”

“Are you complaining about your punishment? They were a bit of an overkill.”

#DivineHell: Limbo

Lady Antimony continues to supply us with fun challenges. This week is all about Hell, burn, baby, burn! Unfortunately, I don't seem to be able to write seriously about Hell, death, or things of that nature. But I hope you like it anyway :)

“Welcome to Limbo, the first circle of Hell! I am Rowan, the Tour Guide of Hell,” a man in bright red and orange bellowed. “I’m sure you’re all excited to be here.”

Silence filled the room to the brim; a few of the damned ones shuffled their feet as they cast wary glances at each other.

“So glad to see so many happy faces.” The tour guide grabbed one of the damned by the shoulder. “You’re one of the lucky ones moving downwards. What’s your name and how did you end up here?”

“Edwin, I think I took a wrong turn…”

“Don’t they all, walk right off the straight and narrow.” He shoved Edwin towards the gaping black hole. Before it someone had placed two sticks supporting a low-lying pole. “Now go ahead, do the dance. I’ll see you down below when you’re through having fun!”

AntimonyAntics: The Proposal

Late as always, but here's my entry to Lady Antimony's AntimonyAntics challenge. It's another story on virra birds, “the rats of the sky” as they are known in Verannia. Please visit the other blogs too.

The lid of a box flew open, followed by a yellow coin and another. The bird dug deeper into the box. There had to be something of value here. Picking the lock with a stick had been hard enough. There had to be something here worth grain.

“Interesting.” The virra-bird flicked open the little box. Inside was a ring cushioned by a soft fabric, and a crumpled note. The bird placed a foot atop the paper and pulled it open with its beak. “Veeery interesting.”

The virra bird beat its tiny wings as fast it could, zigzagging past people. “Knowledge for grain!”

“Shut up, blabbermouth! I’ll pay you to be quiet!” Errol ran after the bird, arms stretched out to catch the nuisance.

“Knowledge for grain! Errol the merchant is going to propose to Ellie! I know the words he’s going to say.”

“Here, bird.” A soft voice called. The bird landed on Ellie’s palm and began pecking at the seeds. She looked at Errol, mischief glinting in her eyes. ”Well , how is he going to propose to me?”

Half a seed fell from the grey beak. ”He wants your arms to cradle his children, your kisses heal any ailment and you’ve got a nice ar—”

“Shut up, bird! That wasn’t on the note!” Errol reached for the bird, but Ellie caught his hand in hers.

“I do.” she said, dropping the grains and the bird. “Though you can propose properly back home.”

GhoulsGalore: The Mouth

Fourth and last entry to Lady Antimony's GhoulsGalore challenge. Yes, it's late but here it is anyway. This week you got to choose your monster and I chose one of my own... The Mouth! Hope you like it.

I am The Mouth, that is all I need, all I am, the monster thought as it rose from its slumber. Tentacles flexed, snaking their way through the soft, moist earth of the swamp. Its huge maw opened wide, wider than the mouth of any creature on earth or sea. It had been centuries since the last time it had been awake.

From below a borborygmic sound made its way above the green waters. A bird shrieked and flew over the circle of curving teeth, where a black tongue twisted. The monster’s stomach rumbled again.

I hunger.

The Mouth strained its senses, but nothing worthy was near, only small insignificant creatures. The monster spread it tentacles further where the earth became harder and the roots of trees blocked the way.

At last it felt steps. Closer and closer they came, slow, tentative. The prey came closer, drawn by curiosity perhaps. Salivating, the Mouth waited for its prey, green drool dripping down its heaving sides. Just a little nearer...

The tentacle curled around an ankle and lifted the hapless being into the air. Screaming and squirming, the meal fought, but in vain. The Mouth lifted another tentacle, feeling the prey. It was shaped like a man.

Oohh, a human.

Without a second thought The Mouth dropped the man into its maw, where he was slowly dissolved by the stomach acid. When nothing else was left, The Mouth spat out the bones. Satisfied, the monster spread its tentacles and waited for the next prey to come.

GhoulsGalore: Damnation

This week's entry to Lady Antimony's GhoulsGalore challenge.

Clawed fingers caressed the black rock; it was alive, heat emanating from the red veins. Fire ran through the walls, floor and the arching roof. The blue sky was unknown here in the chthonic realm.

He could hear the damned begging for mercy while his servants shepherded them onwards. Their pleas would quickly change into the beautiful music of screaming. He hurried on, eager to witness his loyal minions at work.

Slowly he walked past the pits were the sinners burned, and the sight he most enjoyed watching: his favourite demon hunting down and eating the damned. The demon would later regurgitate the poor souls and eat them again.

Yes, life was good in Hell.

Before he fell there had been Hell, but none to rule it. Demons fought each other while sinners ran amok. He cast the sinners down. He defeated the droves of demons. He became the overlord of the underworld. He might have fallen, but he rose as a master.

“What does God have but wisps of air, placid happiness and feeble servants?” Lucifer folded his leathery wings around himself. Loud snoring filled the air.

GhoulsGalore: Presence

This is my first entry to Lady Antimony's GhoulsGalore challenge. For every week in October, there's a word and a being, and you write a story of 250 words. This week the word was 'boustrophedonic' and the being a poltergeist.

The slender fingers ran across the words written in boustrophedonic fashion. From right to left, then left to right, the archaeologist read them in her mind. The site had an otherworldly feel; it belonged to another era, its inhabitants long gone. She could almost imagine whispers on the faint wind.

Speak. Speak the words, it seemed to say. A rock rolled to her feet. She whispered one of the words, a tremor of excitement running through her. They had deciphered some of the meanings. It seemed to be a guide or a map, but a symbolic one; it spoke of stars, darkness and signs left by the gods.

Speak the words. I need to find a way out.

Another rock rolled down into the ruins. Were her comrades playing a joke on her?

Please don’t leave me here!

She walked back out into the humid air and tangle of strange plants, but the chill of the shadow cast by the wall clung to her. One of her colleagues ran up to her, his face distorted by disbelief and anger.

“The bloody idiots cut off our funding! We’ll leave in a couple of weeks.”

“Maybe it’s best,” she whispered. Upon entering the site she had felt dread. With every day, the feeling had grown deeper. There was something amiss in this place, something stamped its presence here.