Split (1)

train · 353k rows

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For instance: You are in a musical, everyone else is in a horror movie. You are in a romantic comedy, everyone else is in an action movie.	[WP] You are in a Movie Genre, everyone else is in a different Movie Genre.	I forgot to set my alarm to be up for my job interview. I rushed to get ready, got out the door, jumped in my car and immediately headed down town before realizing my hair was a complete mess. Traffic was light so I got into the city early and decided to stop at Starbucks to fix my hair in the bathroom and get a quick pick-me-up. "You got this Jenny." I was saying to my reflection. "You have all the qualifications for this job, just go in there and show them that you're the new boss around here. Just walk in there like you got balls bigger than he does and show him how awesome you are." I heard the toilet flush and a woman walked by me and whispered, "Weirdo..." under her breath. I blushed, not realizing someone had been listening in on my pep talk. I walked back into the lobby and right into a man carrying a latte. It splashed all over his button up shirt. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, let me get you a napkin!" I said, feeling the blood rushing into my face as I noticed how cute he was. He had shaggy golden blond hair and a stone jaw, soft brown eyes and the faintest smile lines. "Oh, not a problem." he said. He seemed distracted, like there was something more important going on that made this only a minor inconvenience, he kept looking around and out the windows as we walked over to the counter with all the napkins. "I'm so sorry, let me buy you another drink. I'll pay for the dry cleaning of your shirt too!" I stammered, I reached for a napkin and knocked over the cup of straws sending them scattering across the floor. The door to the Starbucks opened with a ding, and the cute guy I had just spilled coffee all over was really intently staring at the man who just walked in. "Get down." he said calmly, pushing me under the counter. "Wha-" I began to protest as he pulled out a gun from under his sports jacket. The man that just walked in drew a weapon as well and they began to stare each other down. He had a trimmed, well groomed black mustache and goatee, heavy set eyes with bushy black eyebrows and a dark suit. He opened his mouth and with a gruff voice he began to speak - no - he began so sing. "Today we meet at last to settle the score, Just like the times we fought before, Oh, Benjamin you thought you put me away for life, And I'm sure you've not forgotten how I killed your wife." The blond man's eyes narrowed and he began to sing in an angelic voice. "From prison I heard that you had escaped, When I read the headlines my mouth was agape, I knew it was only a matter of time before, You came to deliver the death that was in store, For two lives you desired to take that day, But to my great misfortune, I was away, So in my place you took the love of my life, And now I shall have revenge for my beloved wife." Oh my god, I was quivering. I needed to get this guys number. I started slowly crawling away toward the check out counter, I didn't want to be in the line of fire when these guys stopped singing and started shooting at each other. "I'm gonna be so late for my job interview..." I whispered under my breath as I crawled. The mustachioed man started firing, and the two began to move about the room shooting in what looked like a choreographed display. The blond man fired his gun, the bullet shattered the window behind the dark man, striking a car outside in the gas tank and causing it to burst into flames. The mustachioed man missed and hit the lights above causing a shower of sparks to fall around me. I screeched and skittered faster along the floor, finally getting behind the cashier's counter. "Oh no, I broke a nail. I just had these done! You asshole!" I screamed, grabbing a hot cup of coffee from behind the counter, I threw it across the room and it splashed on the face of the mustachioed man. He howled in pain. He sung in his raspy voice. "Oh, woman, by striking me you have arisen my ire, When I kill this man, ending your life is my next desire, For no one insults Andover McVey, I will restore my honor on this greatest of days!" The blond man answered in angelic riposte, "You'll do nothing of the sort, no one else shall you harm, I'll strike you down at last by the hand of my arm, Your days are numbered, my revenge will be had, And you'll remember my name, I am Benjamin Gilihad!" They fired again. Benjamin's bullet missed, striking a fire hydrant and sending a geyser of water into the air. Andover hit the faucet of the nearby sink, causing water to start spraying inside the restaurant, all over me. More shots rang out as the two man encircled, exchanging verbal attacks in perfect key. Finally there was a click as the last bullet had been fired from Andover's gun magazine. "Our weapons are empty, it seems we both stand, I guess we'll have to settle this dispute with our hands!" he sang. "Andover, you are as stupid as your heart is numb, I knew you were an evil man but never this dumb, For your gun carries eight bullets and this one carries nine, It seems at last, revenge will be mine!" Benjamin answered in thunderous resolve. The light glared off the tip of his brilliant chrome gun, blinding me slightly as he fired his last round into Andover's chest. Andover fell to the ground, dramatically clutching the wound, and struggled out one final verse. "You can strike me down, put a bullet in my lung, But at the end of the day, when all is said and done, Your wife still lies dead underneath her grave marker, You gain nothing as my vision turns dark....er..." He collapsed, blood pooling beneath him. Police sirens approached down the road and several cruisers surrounded the building. I stood up, my makeup running down my face and my white blouse now soaked and see through. Benjamin saw me and placed his sports coat over my shoulders to cover me up. "That... that was incredible." I stammered. "So... about the dry cleaning."	This isn't supposed to be how the zombie apocalypse happens. There's supposed to be news stories about a virus on TV. It's supposed to start overseas, spread here, and take days to work its way across the country. In all the zombie apocalypse fantasies we had joked about, we thought we would have some warning. I'm not supposed to be chased down by my neighbor, who normally hobbles along slowly as he walks his schnauzers. When I first pulled on to my street and Frank literally ran up to my car, I thought his wife was dying or something, and maybe he needed me to call 911. It was dark. And I had never seen anyone sprint like that - certainly not Frank. But when I rolled down my passenger window to ask him if everything's okay, he lunged for me and made this awful growling sound. I floored the gas pedal, Frank fell to the ground, and I drove to the end of our street. When I got out of my car to run inside, he was hot on my heels. What the hell?! I slammed the front door closed, barely locking the deadbolt before Frank's body thudded against it with stunning force, before he started frantically jiggling the handle. My heart was pounding out of my chest, I stumbled backward and tripped over 4 of our friend's pairs of shoes. My 75-year-old neighbor's face appeared at the dark window, and I screamed again. And that's when I finally saw his bloodshot eyes, dark crimson circles under his eyes, deep scratches and distinct bite marks on his bloody neck, and Frank's mouth was dripping with foamy, bloody saliva. He hammered on the window with his hands. I heard laughter coming from the basement. Game night! My husband and his friends were supposed to be playing with the new PlayStation VR headset he got for Christmas. I sprinted to the basement stairs, and nearly tripped as I ran to the entertainment room in the basement where the laughter is coming from. They're playing the Resident Evil 7 demo. The guys laughed again as some terrifying creature attacked the VR character, and our friend wearing the headset shouted and laughed at whatever surprise had just happened on-screen. I took one second to catch my breath before I shouted "SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH FRANK!! He chased my car, down on the street corn r, and I thought he needed help, but he ATTACKED ME! Sprinted after my car, all the way home!!!! I think he's a zombie or something! What do we do?? We don't have guns in the house --" Smiles faded as everyone looked at me, then slowly shifted their gaze back to the VR game. Mario picked up another piece of pizza. My husband walked over and whispered, "Frank chased your car down the street...? That guy is slower than DSL internet." His friends chuckle. "That's a funny prank and all, but honey, we're kind of busy here." Our friend squealed and swiped at the creepy lady on the screen as everyone on the couch laughed. I hate horror games. I hate suspense. I hate all that shit. And now that it's LITERALLY HAPPENING 20 FEET FROM THIS VERY SPOT, I'm about to lose it. Frank continued to slam his fists into the glass. "I'm SERIOUS!! Listen! Can you hear that?? That's Frank at the window and he wants to kill me! He had bite marks and scratches on his neck, bloodshot eyes, and he was foaming at the mouth! I THINK THIS IS THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE! Stop playing the game and come LOOK --" Sounds from the game made Frank's attempts to break the window seem like sound effects on our surround sound. ".We're having a lot of fun here, but this joke you're playing is kind of lame." Something happened in the game and everyone laughed at our terrified friend. My husband went to sit by his friends again. My husband had his phone out, probably recording the game demo and reactions to upload to his YouTube channel. "I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP!!!" They laughed at me. They freaking LAUGHED AT ME. I tried to think. We don't have guns. The axe is in the garage. And we have the large block of knives on our kitchen counter. I'm a girl with pathetic upper-arm strength, and what I really need is our tall zombie-enthusiast buddy Trevor to handle it, but he's deeply invested in this VR game. "DAMN IT TREVOR, THIS IS YOUR DREAM COME TRUE. THERE IS LITERALLY A ZOMBIE TRYING TO BREAK IN UPSTAIRS!!!" They snickered at how "convincing" I was being and went back to their game. My husband gave me a stern look. Apparently I was going to need to handle this myself. I thought of our sleeping children two floors up. Oh, God. The pounding had stopped. Did he leave? Were we safe? Is he now attacking a neighbor taking out their trash? I dialed 911 on my cell as I sprinted upstairs, toward the knife block, and grabbed the cleaver. My tired son stood at the top of the stairs to the second floor, rubbing his eyes. "...Mom?" Sounds of laughter echoed up the stairway from the basement. A rush of cold January air blew in, as the back door thudded open against the wall. My heart stopped, and the air seemed to be sucked out of my lungs. Frank stood in the doorway, illuminated by the flood light in our back yard, as I dropped my phone to the floor.
	[WP] You have a reputation for being horribly indecisive. In truth, you've been cursed with the ability to see every possible negative outcome of every choice you make, no matter how minor.	Jeanne’s grip on my hand tightened and she pulled me suddenly left into a small shop. The little bell on the door tinkled merrily, announcing our arrival into an ice-cream parlor. My stomach sank. My carefully controlled date had just been dropkicked by my girlfriend. “Wanna share a cone?” Jeanne asked with a seductive smile. “No spoons. I’ll lick the ice-cream off your nose.” Jeanne looked so proud of herself, and even as I toyed with the idea of saying no, of getting the hell out of this den of consequences, I could see the future unfolding—well, only the bad parts of it. “Ok,” I said, “You can pick—“ No, bad idea. Jeanne picks jalapeño lavender swirl, which gives me gas for days and somehow, ten years down the road, causes civil war in Belarus. “I’ll pick.” Shit. I hate picking. And Jeanne knows. She knows I’m indecisive. She mocks me all the time. She thinks its hilarious that I’m double-majoring in Molecular Biology and Near-Eastern Studies because I “couldn’t pick”. Molecular Biology is eating me alive, but it lets me keep an eye on Javier in Human Genomics lab, who would’ve killed himself six months ago. I’m not saying it’s “because he met me” like I’m some kind of pretentious life-delivering angel-douche. Maybe my presence in class meant he didn’t meet someone else. Hell, maybe I just bring the curve down enough that he’s getting an A. But right now, I need to choose. I look between the flavors—Vanilla, Chocolate, Mint Swirl, Caramel Cluster—and I see death, destruction, infidelity and disease. When I contemplate Rocky Road, Jeanne stabs me on our wedding night. Picking Strawberry Mango means New Zealand sinks into the sea. If I choose coconut, Jeanne stabs my father on their wedding night. Well, Coconut’s a no. I dropped Jeanne’s hand to wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. If I didn’t pick in a few seconds—choosing to not choose—Jeanne would leave me for Javier. I would be so depressed that I’d flunk Molecular Biology. Also, civil war would erupt in Belarus. I frowned and rewound my thoughts. Actually, no matter what flavor of ice-cream I picked, or failed to pick, it seemed that Belarus was in for some tough times. I closed my eyes, following the consequences of this war to its bloody end. Then I considered another option. I glanced over at Jeanne, and admired the face that had first caught my eye in Intro Persian: the freckles on her nose, the carefree smile, the curious eyes. I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Jeannie,” I said. “I’m breaking up with you.” Her mouth dropped open and I saw a dozen perfectly valid arguments bubbling forth. I raised a hand. “Don’t argue Jeanne. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but it’s for the best.”	“Would you like anything to drink with that?” asked the waitress, smiling brightly. The visions hit me instantaneously. A flash of white I order a large Pepsi. I knock it over accidentally while reaching for the salt, and it pours all over Julie’s white dress. A flash of white The waitress knocks the glass over with her elbow while placing my burger in front of me, and the glass shatters on the floor. Shards of glass fly everywhere. The young trainee waitress is embarrassed. A few minutes after the mess is mopped up, an elderly woman with poor vision does not see the “Caution. Floor is wet.” sign, and slips on the damp tiles. A flash of white I order nothing. My burger is spicier than expected, and I am parched. I ask Jules for a sip of her Creame-Soda. The sides of the glass are damp with moisture and it slips from my hand and shatters on the floor. A small piece ricochets off the floor and lands in someone’s salad… “Kate!”, Jules exclaimed. She was looking at me with exasperation. “A drink?” “Uhhhh…” “She’ll have a large Pepsi, right Kate?” I nodded. Julie smiled apologetically at the waitress. “Kate has trouble making up her mind sometimes.” The understatement of the century As the waitress walked away, Julie turned back to me with a glint in her eye. “But I love you all the same. Mental illnesses, aside.” I laughed out loud. My best friend had always had a way of making me smile, ever since we were children. As per my “curse” (as I had dubbed it), it had manifested around the time I was ten years old. At first, the inexplicable visions had terrified me. My parents were equally as concerned, their child surely could not be “seeing things”? What would people say? They took me to doctors. Neurologists and psychiatrists. When one couldn’t help… A second opinion. A third. A fourth. One psychiatrist had suggested that I be fully evaluated in a psychiatric hospital; but my mother had refused. “My baby is not going to some sort… of… of… mental asylum, just because her imagination is overactive!” I remembered sitting on the stairs, listening to my parents arguing. I had never heard them argue like that. Was I really crazy?. Hot tears streamed down my face and, at that moment, I promised myself I would never tell anyone else about these “visions” ever again. And I never had. Over the years, I had learnt to live with it; although there was no doubt it had taken its toll. One does not notice the amount of decisions one has to make in a day; until confronted with every possible unfortunate trail of events which could occur by making each and every one. With every choice I made, came the possibility of a self-created disaster. Everything I did could potentially harm me or, worse, someone else. If something bad happened to someone owing to something I had decided, no matter how mundane, the remorse would gnaw at me until I eventually broke down from the overwhelming guilt. Breakdowns in my teenage years were numerous. The most logical solution? Let people make decisions for me. Big decisions were, by far, the worst. I would see my entire life pan out ahead of me in over a hundred different directions. Each choice was a timeline, and each timeline had consequences. A horrific butterfly effect quite literally flashing before my eyes, with nothing I could do to stop it besides to cease attempting to make a decision at all. My latest big decision? My college degree. My parents were both successful lawyers at their respective firms, and had pushed me into pursuing a career in law. I was relieved by it. My classes were interesting enough, and I was intelligent enough to keep up with the course-work. Meanwhile, Jules was babbling away about some good looking philosophy Professor who taught her. “I swear to God, Kate, I have never seen a lecture hall so full of females. I doubt half of them even have philosophy as a subject. I actually know a ridiculous amount about Freud these days. Some weird ideas that guy had. Hey…”, she trailed off and looked past my shoulder, “Isn’t that the guy from your jurisprudence class you were going on about that one time?” I turned my head in what I hoped was an inconspicuous manner. Sitting a few tables behind them was a boy. Seated on his own, he seemed immersed in a novel and had not touched the food on his plate. I didn’t know anything about him, except that his name was David. And that he mesmerised me in some way no-one ever had, and I had no idea why. He was exceptionally good looking; dark hair, dark eyes and a brooding manner about him. He always sat alone in my classes, during which he mostly sketched in his notebook in black ballpoint. I only knew his name from a quick glance at the cover of said notebook. I whipped my head back around, blushing furiously. Julie smiled wickedly. “So that is the guy then. You should go talk to him.” “Jules, you know me and guys never work out…” “Yeah, because you never even give them half the chance to get to know you before you push them away and then break their hearts”, Jules retorted with an eyebrow raised. I flinched. What Jules had said was true… But holding together a relationship with my mind regularly displaying every terrible way it would inevitably end was not easy. “Kate, come on. You’re gorgeous, he’s gorgeous. And as far as first impressions go, I can tell he loves good literature… He’s reading John Steinbeck, Kate. I can see it from here.” I sighed, preparing myself. I knew only disappointment awaited the moment I let myself think the words. Should I go talk to him? I turned my head slowly and stared straight at him, waiting for the flashes. And nothing happened. I thought with more deliberation. Should I go talk to him? Still, no flashes. I felt my heart begin to beat rapidly. This doesn’t happen. This is not normal. And then, without even acknowledging what I was doing, I stood. It felt like my entire body was numb and moving of its own accord, as I made my way shakily towards where he was sitting. I was a few paces away from his table when he looked up at me, and I saw his eyes properly for the first time. They were not brown, as I had originally thought, but a dark blue. And in their inky darkness swam, what seemed like, a thousand years of pain. The instant he looked at me, his face drained of all colour. As I sat down opposite him, he put his book down. His hands were trembling. I spoke without hesitation. “David. What did you think when you saw me just now?” “I was… I was deciding whether to greet you or to carry on reading”, he said. His eyes were a mixture of confusion and torment. He was clearly trying to regain composure, and failing. “Did the flashes come?” He looked up. And I knew he understood. “No… Nothing happened.” “Nothing for me either.” I began to cry, and the tears were as hot as the ones shed by a little girl on a staircase all those years ago. He took my hand. “I don’t even know your name, but I do know one thing. I don’t think I am ever leaving your side.” I wiped my eyes and looked up at him. “Kate. It’s Kate. And... I don’t think I ever want you to.”
	[WP] Your beloved dog/cat is dying of old age. You're beside him/her and you hear a voice on your mind... He/she is asking you to accept him/her as your spirit animal for the rest of your life	It had been a good 15 years. We'd gotten Gracie as a bright, energetic pup from my uncle, who hadn't been able to give her the room she needed to thrive, due to him living in the city. So when he asked me, a 10-year-old boy, if I wanted a dog, I said yes! Then I had to convince mom and dad to let me take her home out into the country with us. Dad was easy, but mom took a bit of convincing. I had to swear that I would take care of her on my own, but I had no problems with that, I was happy to have a friend! I wasn't always a great owner. I was an angry child before I hit my upper teenage years and began to develop some real empathy. I wouldn't say I was ever outright cruel, but I certainly was far more loud and angry with her before she really learned how to let us know she needed to go outside. But by and large, we had the best friendship I'd ever known in my life. We ran together, swam together, ate together, slept on my bed together, and I would even swear to you that there were times we laughed together, with her lolling her tongue about as I cackled my silly little head off. She always was a bit smarter than any dog any of my friends had, or any other I ever met anywhere. She learned a bunch of words on her own, without me even trying to teach her! We had to start spelling out things like C-A-R, B-A-L-L, S-T-I-C-K, and even D-I-N-N-E-R. She was smart enough to figure out how to work a both a simple lever-handle door knob and a button latch door knob, and she even knew to wait until we left the house before trying to get into the trash if we had thrown away any of her favorite people foods. There were times where I would even swear that I'd turn to look at her, and catch her staring back at me with a look in her eyes that was more than just a slack stare. I always just chalked it up to my own imagination. Unfortunately, all things come to an end. She had already started slowing down when I went off to college. And then I only saw her for about 3 and a half months a year for the next 4 years. Then when I got home after graduation, I was shocked to actually see her. Her muzzle had gone gray. She was frightfully skinny. Her legs shook any time she stood in one spot for more than a minute or two. She couldn't run much, and her appetite grew smaller and smaller. But her eyes never lost their spark. She kept looking at me, still laughing with me and making that face that I still swear was a smile. But then the day came. I woke up, and she was standing on the floor next to my bed. I had been helping her up into the bed at night lately, since she couldn't get into it on her own. And then in the morning I'd have to let her down, since she couldn't get down on her own without looking like she was in pain. So I found it odd she got down without my help. But I looked at her and as she looked back at me, I noticed there was a new look in her eyes. I tried to give her some breakfast, and see if she's thirsty, but she doesn't seem to want anything. I go about my morning, doing some chores and getting ready for the day. At some point I realize that Gracie isn't by my side like she usually is in the morning. I look around, and find her lying on her side in front of the door leading outside. I try to check how she's doing, but every time I touch her, she yelps in pain. It slowly dawns on me, that there is nothing left for her here on earth. Just as I come to this realization, she seems to look me right in the eyes, and it looks like she gives me a small nod. I go and gather up one of our favorite blankets that we've shared many times, then slowly and gently gather her up into my arms. I carefully walk with her out to my car, before making a quick phone call as I start driving. As we make our way down the road, I talk with her about all the adventures we've had. I describe to her how excited I was as we drove her out to our house when we got her. I apologize for not being more patient as she was learning what was expected of her at her new home. I tell her how proud of her I was that she always got along well with the barn cats and the goats and the cows and how brave of her it was that she always helped to defend the house when our neighbor's pigs would get loose and try to dig up our yard looking for truffles. And then just as I finish laughing as I remind her of the time that I had to wash her down since she got sprayed by a skunk, we arrive at our destination. I get out of the car, gently lift her out, and then carry her inside. When we get through the door, we are greeted by a pleasant young lady who directs us to a room down the hall. As we enter the room, we see an older man in a white coat, smiling at us. "This must be Gracie! Come on over here so I can take a look at you." I set her down on the cushion he has laid out on the table as he pulls out his equipment. He shines a light into her eyes, uses a tongue depressor to check her throat, and even listens to her heartbeat. She endures his tender ministrations without complaint. But then he tries to feel her joints and she yelps again. After asking me a couple of questions, he looks at her again. "I understand, son. I'll be back in a moment." "Thank you." Is all I can manage to reply. He leaves us and I sit down close to her on the cushioned table. I scratch her neck in the special spot I found many, many years that always made her open her mouth in what had to be a giant smile. "I know it hurts, girl. But he'll be back in a moment with some medicine to take away the pain. It won't hurt anymore at all, I promise. It won't hurt at all." Tears filling my eyes, I hug her close to me, and I can tell she's trying not to yelp so I let go, and then the doctor walks in. He walks over next to us, and looks at her, then me, before reaching into his pocket. "Do you have anything to say before she goes to sleep?" I scoot a little closer and prop her head in my lap before responding. "I love you Gracie." The older man silently uncaps the needle that had appeared in his hand as he stood behind her. She turns her head and looks at me, that old sparkle back in her eyes. "You're going to sleep for a while. I'm not sure when you will wake up. But it's to make you better. And I promise you, that I will be there when you wake up. I'll be there and we can run, and chase squirrels, and play tug-of-war over sticks, and even eat some pizza! And our adventures will go on and on. Now sleep girl, and I'll see you in a while." I lean down and gently rest my forehead against hers as the man administers the shot. She slowly, so slowly, goes limp in my arms. After her body has gone totally limp, the man tells me to take all the time I need as he steps outside. It is then that I let the tears flow. And then suddenly, someone says my name. I look around, bewildered because I don't remember telling anybody here my name. Then I turn all the way around, and I see my Gracie standing on the floor! Shocked, I look back at my own lap, only to see her limp body still lying there. I hear my name again, and then I can tell that it's coming from the Gracie on the floor! I look at her closely, and notice now that she seems somewhat translucent. "Hey, can I be your spirit animal? Most people never develop a close enough bond with their pets to be given this choice. But we were something special! So what do you say? Do you really wanna keep adventuring together?" Just as I open my mouth to try to...something, I'm not even sure what, I'm cut off. "And oh yea, I love you too. But now I can tell you in ways you understand." I'm sure the old man and young lady were beyond confused as to why I walked out of there with a huge smile on my face as I carried my old best friend out of there. But why shouldn't I smile? I had just gotten my young best friend back, and better than ever!	The wolf appeared on his very first hunt as he was trekking through the snow. He was trembling. The crossbow in his hands felt so very heavy and the dark of the night seemed to press around him. He was a Hunter now. That meant he had to Hunt. It was that or die out here in the woods. The old men would certainly have no use for an orphan like him if he did not do as he was told. But as he was passing through a lonely grove, he saw icy blue eyes glinting in the light of the moon. He raised his crossbow. The wolf stepped out of the darkness, stirring up a faint whisper of powdery snow. Its fur was white, almost glowing in the moonlight. Its mouth was a pitch black that grew open in a smile, revealing a deep red tongue. He set down his crossbow as it drew near. Somehow he knew it didn't mean him harm. He patted its head, admiring its glorious coat. It rushed forward. He waited in the clearing for a moment, wondering if it had disappeared. Then he saw icy blue eyes in the shadows. He smiled and followed. The wolf was always by his side thereafter. She would show him where the bodies were that he needed to collect and burn. She would even help sometimes to distract the Beast he was hunting. He was not alone, anymore. There was a little mother taking care of the warmth he needed, of the companionship he sometimes feared he would never have. The villagers did not like the wolf. They shunned him even more when it had appeared. He would see them eyeing the wolf with unpleasant intent whenever he returned to the village. But they could not touch the wolf's almost man-sized form. They did not dare to approach him with the saw on his back and the crossbow in his hand. But there was something that hunted the wolf as well. He knew it, could feel it watching him sometimes on nights when the moon was full. The wolf was especially jittery, declining to howl when its brethren did. He found out what it was on the night he ascended to the Castle. It was an old, ancient castle buried deep in the mountains. The old men had sent him there. They wanted to try to get rid of him again with an impossible mission. It didn't matter. He was not afraid of some castle from which no Hunter returned. He was not like the other Hunters who wandered alone through the icy cold land. The wolf whined and nearly refused to go. He encouraged it along, stroking its furred side. It slunk beneath his shadow as he drew closer to the tall spires. It crept behind him as he pushed open those aged doors. "Ah...at last you come home, my pet." A man was waiting for him, sitting on the grand steps of the castle. He was dressed as a noble of some ancient time, a luxurious coat of fine velvet spread before his feet. His face was sunless. His smile was fanged. He froze. A Vampire. A true Nosferatu. He wondered how he would get out of this alive. The wolf lunged in front of him, growling protectively. In an instant, the vampire struck, lunging forward as well. Its human shape was lost as it surged forward, replaced by some beastly bat-like thing. The wolf howled as its talons found grip within its fur, streaking red across its pure white fur. He lunged forward with his saw, striking the vampire on the neck. Its flesh parted but it had shifted back fast enough and its spine was unbroken. It snarled and jumped on him, picking him up with one enormous hand. It threw him before he had time to react. He slammed into the walls of the castle. He felt something crack in his chest. He slumped to the ground, iron filling into his mouth. He tried to pull himself up. The wolf was defending him again. It went between him and the vampire every time the vampire tried to lunge. The wolf's coat was red by now, very very red. At last the vampire grew tired of the interference, it spread its wings, leaping into the air and diving down towards the wolf before biting, deeply, into its throat. The wolf screamed. He drew his crossbow. His vision blurred slightly but he took careful aim, a prayer under his breath. He released the arrow. The vampire exploded in a cloud of dust. He crawled over slowly until he was beside the dying wolf. Their blood mingled on the ground, joining into a puddle of life liquid that was freezing up in the winter's cold. He felt very cold. He couldn't quite breathe anymore. Then the wolf's eyes met his. He felt his heart twitch, as if in sympathetic beat to another's. A request passed between them. It was inaudible, just a feeling inside his mind, like something too sacred to speak out loud. "I accept you, dear friend." was all he said in reply. How could he not, when his dear friend was dying because of his pride and folly? They shut their eyes at the same time. He opened his eyes a while later. The moon was full. He knew it instinctively even though he could not see beyond the castle walls. Slowly, he rose. His balance was a little off. He padded carefully out through the castle doors. He howled lowly in the dark night.
	[WP] There's a new drug on the street. It's called Good Samaritan and it makes you do nice things for other people.	A dealer's first rule is never use the product. In this case, I took every precaution to avoid temptation. All the way from keeping a double lidded system on my drugs to wearing substance preventative masks twenty-four hours a day. To nab a hit of Samaritan unexpectedly is as bad as saying goodbye to years of hard work. It's a catch 22 that the worthwhile things in life are often the most difficult to keep safe. There was a rap on the door, five knocks, a system my boys used to signal a high roller was coming through. This prompted a switch up on my guns position, sliding it under the table into a loading slot. I shifted a bucket sized ration of Samaritan centre table and hit the buzzer on the side of my desk. The door cracked open. "Boss, Lars Devenison is here from Upstate." This guy Lars was some thug that had made it big selling coke and small-k, some of the cheap addict driven products. I'd heard about him while chatting with the boys, thing is, what Lars considered big was peanut change in my industry. "Send him through . . ." I placed the gun back on the table. Lars Devenison wore a fur white coat with watches more like wall clocks on either arm. His golden plated teeth screamed bad taste and the white cowboy hat shrouding his widow peak looked fashioned from the previous year's gay pride parade. All in all, the guy's ego had ballooned far above his playing field. It was time I cut Lars down to size. "Merick Blint," he said, taking a seat opposite. His two security guards wore t-shirts two sizes too tight and had their hair gelled back in a way that made me crack a smirk. The only thing these guys had going for them was their muscles, and those didn't matter when hot metal was the verdict. "I'm here to buy some of that product, Saramingtons?" Kid couldn't even get the name right. "Samaratin," I said, "and what makes you think you're worth my business?" He glanced at either of his boys and then flashed a million dollar smile. "Round my parts I'm the big cat and I could peddle your shit all the way through the litter. You call the shots, I take a cut, we're all happy." "Bullshit," I said. No one that had made it was this stupid. You didn't simmer down and suck up like new cats, you showed your worth in cash. Lars smirked. "You're right, I was fishing for a reaction." I hit the blue button under my desk, which would alert the boys that we had a time-waster and things could get out of hand. They'd be ready for my next signal. "I've got something better than Samaritan and so I want to get in," Lars continued. "Don't play with me or my time." He waved me off, pulling a wad of cash from his side pocket and slamming it on the table next to my narcotic. "It's fake money, looks as good as the real stuff." I hit the third button, the boys were on their way. "If I was here to peddle petty cash then I'd be a fucking banker, not a dealer. Take your ass back up-state." Lars stood, hands up in defense. "For real, this isn't something you'll want to miss. Just look at the stack, smell it, tell me it doesn't feel real or burn real. I'll leave, no noise." The boys would barge in any minute now, ready to wreck havoc on this kid. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, just this once. I fanned the stack, checking each bill, and then sniffed getting that same paper smell with a hint of chemicals. "Not bad," I said, having dealt with money most of my life I knew a good fake when I saw one, "but it smells like laboratory candy. This shit won't fly." Lars's grin sent my insides boiling. The kid could go from serious to a bozo in a minute. "You don't know that smell?" "I told you not to play with me-" "That's your product," Lars said. My fast heartbeat was the first response, something I should have clued in on. Then the subtle twitches that I'd heard so much about. Samaritan made you good, matter of fact, it made you so damn good you made church nuns look like devil saints. The doors flung open and my guys came in with guns levelled. Lars hit the wall, his two body gaurds had their own guns poised ready to go all out. "Need us to take care of this, boss?" One of my guys asked. What came over me was uncontrollable, like thick silver of my tongue that controlled each contraction of the muscle. "I need you to do a job," I said, "all of you." The men in the room looked my way. "Take every gram of Simaritan from my drawers, room, safety stash and disperse it amongst the city. Give it to everyone, man, woman and child. Today is the day we share our love --with the world."	Jerry woke up. He saw the yellow, peeling paint of his ceiling and was reminded of just how far he had fallen. He couldn’t keep a job and had to pay his section 8 rent with welfare checks. His blankets were wet with sweat and every time he moved, he was greeted with a the slightly swampy smell of laundry that had been left in the machine over night. The pit in his stomach told him he was nothing. The bare, bubbling walls agreed with him, and the blank digital clock offered no objection. He couldn’t keep a job, he was worthless in relationships, and really, he deserved it every time someone called him trash. He went to bed with a sense of purpose, but must have slept off the high. Uppers didn’t let him sleep and downers didn’t give him that drive. Jerry picked his jeans off of the floor and slipped them on. He fished around in the pocket and pulled out some wadded up bills. There should be just enough for another hit. Tomorrow be damned, he was going to be somebody today. He tripped over a toy car his little brother left out and made his way to the front door. Jerry slipped into his sneakers and out of his apartment, locking the front door because as bad as he felt, there was always someone who hit rock bottom and dug a few inches deeper. He made his way past the soup kitchen and into the alley between the library and the Habitat for Humanity. A gold glint told him his dealer was waiting for him. “Back for more?” Jerry looked back at the entrance to the alley. “How much?” “We’re cool.” The dealer smiled that grin of his, gold tooth catching a bit of light in the dark alley. “Second hit is on me. We’ll talk next time.” He held out a baggie with a pill and Jerry snatched it, ripping the pill out and downing it with a dry swallow. Jerry nodded at the dealer. “Thanks man, you’re an awesome person.” He felt the first rush. He left the alley and walked down the street, the high already fading. There were some kids playing ball in the street. A car turned the corner and he shouted the usual warning. They scurried out and he felt amazing but that little good deed faded as quick as it came. He had to help people. Yesterday he had been chased out of the grocery store parking lot for trying to help people load their cars, and the old lady did not appreciate him trying to help her cross the street. There had to be some place that people needed help. Last night, he pulled some jerk boyfriend off of a poor girl and set them straight, but that had carried him through the night. Today, he needed to be somebody. He needed to help somebody. He stumbled into his apartment and picked up the toy car he stumbled over earlier. His brother was still out playing. He fired up the old computer and began applying for student aid. Several grants came through immediately but others required an essay. The typed one up, sent it off, and got a rush. He applied to an online university. The preliminary checks came in good and it looked like he’d get a full ride. He got another rush, this time tinged with a sense of purpose. He spent the day applying for grants, planning his degree, and planning his future career. The next morning, Jerry woke up. He saw the yellow, peeling paint and was reminded of just how far he had fallen, but he rolled over and saw his printed out grant applications and knew just how far he had to go to make a better life for his brother.
	[WP] There's a new drug on the street. It's called Good Samaritan and it makes you do nice things for other people.	McCluskey sighed at the body as the medical examiners loaded it -- him; it was still a person, no matter how little was left of it -- into the back of the van. Twenty-two years on the force, fifteen in narcotics, and somehow it never got any easier. 'Samaritan?' he asked the beat cop who was first on the scene. The young man nodded, and then paused as though even that slight movement was going to be enough to make him throw up. He studiously avoided looking at the smear on the tarmac, the red that stood stark black under the streetlights. 'Looks like it, Sir,' he said. 'We've had a lot of reports of sellers in the neighbourhood recently.' 'Unusual?' Maybe there was something in that -- a silver lining. Small-time dealers were everywhere, but if they could catch the guy who was making that shit... The beat cop shook his head. 'Small scale. College kids, mostly. Just looking for a good time.' A real good time, McCluskey thought. The time of his life, I bet. Right up until it killed him. The idea sickened him. He didn't have children of his own, but if he had... well, they'd be around that kid's age. There but for the grace of God..., he thought. Just a couple of little pills, and he could have been on the other end of the phonecall he'd have to make later that night, finding out that his son wouldn't be coming home. He shuddered. He wouldn't wish that on anyone. 'Tell me what happened,' McCluskey said. The cop shrugged. 'I don't know for sure. I asked the witness a few questions, but she was pretty shaken up. The EMTs are with her now.' 'Witness?' 'Yeah.' He pointed over to an old woman -- eighty years old if she was a day -- sitting in an ambulance across the street, a foil blanket around her frail shoulders. A girl in a high-visibility jacket was tending to a nasty scrape on her forehead, but other than that the woman seemed fine. What the hell was she doing out at this time of night? McCluskey thought, but the rookie kept talking, interrupting his process. 'Says he pushed her out of the way of a car. The driver drove off, but we should be able to track him down from the license plate.' A hit and run. Never pretty -- but something didn't add up. 'Wait a second,' McCluskey said, rubbing his eyes. 'You say he pushed her?' 'Yes, Sir.' 'Out of the way? He was safe, and he put himself in danger?' 'I know. It sounded crazy to me too, but that's what she said. If it hadn't been for him, she would have been right in the path of the car, and...' He pointed down to the smear on the road. 'Would have been her.' And the kid would still be alive. 'Jesus Christ. That's insane.' McCluskey's mouth was dry as a bone, his head spinning. He'd never heard of an act of altruism like that before. 'How many of those pills did he take?' 'We won't know until the autopsy comes in. A lot, I'd bet. I've never seen anything like this. It's usually paying for people's coffee, maybe helping somebody fetch something down off a high shelf, but this...' He paused. 'Must have been an overdose, right?' McCluskey's face hardened. 'Let's hope so. Either that, or he was a first-timer and didn't know how much to take. God, he should have been complimenting people on the subway, not sacrificing himself for someone who --' He stopped himself, but his meaning was obvious. For someone who probably didn't have all that much longer to live. It was the rookie's turn to look concerned now. 'What's the alternative?' he asked. 'If not an overdose, I mean.' There was a nagging feeling at the back of the older cop's mind, a feeling he couldn't quite get rid of: a news report from a couple of days earlier about a young woman who'd raced into a burning building to help save her neighbour's cat. She hadn't got out before the floor collapsed; they were still looking for the body. He hadn't made the link before, but now... Well, if there was one thing he'd learned about street drugs, it was that they always got stronger over time. Costs came down and the buyers got used to the high -- and people died. Maybe people were already dying. 'If it's not,' he said slowly, 'then we might have a real problem on our hands.' _____ If you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa.	Jerry woke up. He saw the yellow, peeling paint of his ceiling and was reminded of just how far he had fallen. He couldn’t keep a job and had to pay his section 8 rent with welfare checks. His blankets were wet with sweat and every time he moved, he was greeted with a the slightly swampy smell of laundry that had been left in the machine over night. The pit in his stomach told him he was nothing. The bare, bubbling walls agreed with him, and the blank digital clock offered no objection. He couldn’t keep a job, he was worthless in relationships, and really, he deserved it every time someone called him trash. He went to bed with a sense of purpose, but must have slept off the high. Uppers didn’t let him sleep and downers didn’t give him that drive. Jerry picked his jeans off of the floor and slipped them on. He fished around in the pocket and pulled out some wadded up bills. There should be just enough for another hit. Tomorrow be damned, he was going to be somebody today. He tripped over a toy car his little brother left out and made his way to the front door. Jerry slipped into his sneakers and out of his apartment, locking the front door because as bad as he felt, there was always someone who hit rock bottom and dug a few inches deeper. He made his way past the soup kitchen and into the alley between the library and the Habitat for Humanity. A gold glint told him his dealer was waiting for him. “Back for more?” Jerry looked back at the entrance to the alley. “How much?” “We’re cool.” The dealer smiled that grin of his, gold tooth catching a bit of light in the dark alley. “Second hit is on me. We’ll talk next time.” He held out a baggie with a pill and Jerry snatched it, ripping the pill out and downing it with a dry swallow. Jerry nodded at the dealer. “Thanks man, you’re an awesome person.” He felt the first rush. He left the alley and walked down the street, the high already fading. There were some kids playing ball in the street. A car turned the corner and he shouted the usual warning. They scurried out and he felt amazing but that little good deed faded as quick as it came. He had to help people. Yesterday he had been chased out of the grocery store parking lot for trying to help people load their cars, and the old lady did not appreciate him trying to help her cross the street. There had to be some place that people needed help. Last night, he pulled some jerk boyfriend off of a poor girl and set them straight, but that had carried him through the night. Today, he needed to be somebody. He needed to help somebody. He stumbled into his apartment and picked up the toy car he stumbled over earlier. His brother was still out playing. He fired up the old computer and began applying for student aid. Several grants came through immediately but others required an essay. The typed one up, sent it off, and got a rush. He applied to an online university. The preliminary checks came in good and it looked like he’d get a full ride. He got another rush, this time tinged with a sense of purpose. He spent the day applying for grants, planning his degree, and planning his future career. The next morning, Jerry woke up. He saw the yellow, peeling paint and was reminded of just how far he had fallen, but he rolled over and saw his printed out grant applications and knew just how far he had to go to make a better life for his brother.
	[WP] There's a new drug on the street. It's called Good Samaritan and it makes you do nice things for other people.	A black Sedan rolled up in front of a broken down house. All the windows were smashed, yet simply replaced with sheets and wooden blanks. The door was slightly off its hinges, but still held on, whilst the decaying and dead grass lusted for water. A tall man came out of the Sedan wearing a full suit. He had short brown hair, a few tattoo's crawling out from the sleeves and onto his hands, as well as a couple scars adorning his visage. He inhaled through his nose deeply and swallowed the snot and spit that forced itself into his throat. Knock, knock, knock. Three light rattles onto the door, each one causing it to shake slightly. A few voices from inside could be heard murmuring, and one that was robust and very happy, as the scuttering of footsteps came towards the door. A young man leaned his head out the door. "Oh, hey boss," he said, before opening the door wider. "Thought you were the cops." "What kinda cop just knocks on a door." The Boss said as he pushed the door open and marched passed him. Inside, several men with masks on were mixing powders, ethanol, detergents and every other precious thing you could find under a kitchen sink together. Several had burning red eyes. Perhaps from a lack of sleep, more likely from ingesting something to keep themselves awake. One was smiling to himself as he worked, only occasionally to stop to air-drum to a rhythm inside his own head. The Boss stared him down with a scowl, before speaking to everyone. "How are we all today lads?" He said with a gigantic grin and a powerful voice. It boomed, like a gun, and echoed inside the heads of everyone in the room. A couple low voices replied, "Fine," "Good," "Surviving." "I'm great!" Said the Air-drummer. "Absolutely lovely actually, thanks for asking." "Oh yeah?" The Boss said to him, smiling to hide his rage. "Why's that?" "Oh, geez, you're too sweet. Asking me about this all. Well, I woke up today and I felt pretty good, so I decided to walk to work! On my way, I met this real sweet old lady who needed a hand across the road, so I helped her out." The Air-drummer was smiling as he spoke, as well as nodding. A metronome to his own words. "Then I saw this homeless guy, bless his poor soul, so I gave him a couple bucks - Wish I could've given more, but, you know I need to eat too." "Yeah, yeah, I understand. We all need to survive." The Boss said, his eyes now being unable to his rage inside. "I need to survive. Just like you do." "Yeah, course Boss. We all do. It's why we're working together." A few of the other men had become extremely uncomfortable at this point, aware of what was happening. "So I'm going to ask you a simple question then, just one. If we all need to survive, why are you fucking me?" The Boss was calm in his tone. The only thing scarier than him screaming, was him being calm. "I'm not fucking you boss!" The Air-drummer replied. "Why would you think such a thing?" "Well," The Boss slowly took a few steps forward towards him as he was continuing to speak, "Some of my product is going missing. Everyone else in the room seems to be... Not as happy as you. What's the first rule mate." "Don't do your own product," The Air-drummer replied. "Don't do your own product." The Boss mimicked. "My product." "Look, boss, honestly I'm not stealing. I'm paying for it. I'll admit, my bad, I'm doing it. But I'm not stealing it. You know I'm not lying, I can't be right now." He glanced over to everyone else in his room, all of them nervously working instead of watching what was happening. "No one said you can't lie on this shit mate." The Boss was now standing in front of him. His imposing stature, the single line of drool dripping out the corner of his mouth and the crooked smile on face were all reasons to sweat. "It was me." Said another random voice in the room. The Boss turned around to see one of his diligent workers now standing, and staring, and waiting, and absolutely filled with fear. "Really?" He replied to the Good Samaritan, who was withholding all traces of his terror within his soul, trying his best to let no one know how truly horrified he was. "Yes Sir." "Thank you for your honesty." The Boss said with a nod, before pulling out the gun he had concealed on his waist and shooting him in the head. His body hit the ground like a sack of bricks. All the other workers stopped. Their hands were shaking. "Back to work boys." The boss said as he left the building, returned to his car, and drove off. The Air-drummer was gripping his head, tears coming out his eyes, as he stared at the corpse of his friend, who had a few trickles of Good Samaritan falling from his pocket and onto the ground. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay	"Sir, we have to push it through to the senate. This is exactly what New York needs after the waves of violence recently." "You can't push this through to anyone Hannibal. It is a drug and it will not be used in the criminal correction process. We have community service, halfway houses, parole. The process isn't perfect but it will be destroyed by the introduction of drugs. Drugs we don't know the consequences of using, I might add." "So we'll run tests on it, trials, the whole nine yards. I'm telling you, this drug is revolutionary. We won't force anyone to take it but the law could allow for an assisted parole if prisoners get out on good behavior." _____ 1 year later A man was just put in custody after an alleged act of sexual harassment, while on Good Samaritan. He is now being questioned. "Sir, please answer truthfully. Were you and are you now under the influence of Good Samaritan?" "Yes, I'm on parole, I gotta take this once a day." "And did you harass women under the influence of Good Samaritan?" "No Sir. No I did not." "Did you or did you not catcall women under the influence of Good Samaritan?" "Yes I did, but hear me out. They like it, it feels good. I just gotta acknowledge when I see a lady, that they know they did a good thing today, getting up out of bed." "That's all we needed to hear, thank you for your honesty." "Wait, are you trying to say they don't like it?" "No, they don't like catcalling." "Aww, come on man."
	[WP] Two astronauts are in their ship watching the world end below them.	Space was vast. It opened up into a speckled black nothingness that, ironically, felt claustrophobic. I had always wanted to explore it when I was younger. Earth had already been marked and plotted and sectioned off, to the point that everyone owned everything and nothing was left to discover. But space, space was endless and enticing. Space exploration was in its infancy when I was young. They still used rockets back then. I would often stay up way past my bedtime and watch the rockets leave and return all through the night. I made a vow to myself then and there that one day I would be on one of them. I never had the privilege of riding in the rockets, they had long been replaced with more sophisticated ships by the time I was selected to go to space. As much as I admired the rustic design and simplicity of the rockets, I had to admit I felt a little safer on the ships. They weren't as rickety and had a much higher radiation tolerance. "Are you day dreaming again," the voice came from the other side of the ship. My copilot was looking out the window at the blue and green ball in front of us. He made a few adjustments to the controls and glanced over in my direction. "Yeah sorry. It's been a long day. I was just thinking about how I got myself into this mess. Lots of little things combined I suppose." He made a short laugh without opening his mouth. "That's how all things go. You have to watch out for those little things, they'll destroy you. Or make you. It all depends on how you use them." "I don't know that I used mine well. I mean look where we are now." I waved my hand towards the world in front of us. "Honestly, how does a person let things get this bad?" "Come on now, things aren't that bad. I mean at least you're not down there. They're doomed, they're dying, but not us. We get to live to fight another day. That's worth something isn't it?" "I just wish it hadn't come to this. I wish it could have been avoided. I wish I could have done something to prevent it." He looked at me for a long time without saying anything. He wore an odd smile that hid more than it showed. I never knew how to read him. "There's nothing left to be done, you know that right? The world is ending and there's nothing that can be done about it." "I don't know. Are you sure, Phil? There has to be a way. We can stop this. We don't..." He was up in an instant and on top of me. I felt one fist land below my left eye and then his hands on my throat. I could see his face above, his white teeth and flared nostrils. Slowly, slowly the world dimmed and then everything was black. I woke up strapped to a chair. I tried to shake free but Phil had made sure my ropes weren't coming off. Looking around, I noticed that I wasn't on the ship anymore. Well I was, but I was in a different vessel that was being hauled by our ship. The vessel was packed full of every nuclear weapon Earth had ever created. Seeing where I was filled me with terror. I knew what he was up to. It wasn't long before the cargo door slid open, allowing space to seep in and fill the bay. The light from Earth was before me, blue and green and beautiful. We had managed to steal the weapons before they were sent away. We hijacked the vessel that carried them and killed all of the crew, but not before having the captain radio back and say everything was fine. No one on Earth knew the danger they were in. No one knew what we had planned. The vessel jerked forward and approached the open door. My heart began pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Once it neared the edge, it stopped abruptly. I looked to the left and could see the cockpit, cold and steely. Inside was Phil and Jason. They wouldn't look at me. There was an explosion, and I was gone. The ship was fading behind me as Earth became bigger and brighter. I couldn't help but smile, for I was finally fulfilling my childhood dream. I was finally on one of the old rockets, coming back from a long journey through space. Returning to my friends and family who will be so pleased to see me. Returning to Earth. Returning home.	"Hey, Mark?" Mark floated around the corner with a sandwich in his mouth. 'Mmmrfph?" John frowned and said, "What?" "Mmm mmm mmmrfph?" John quirked and looked back. "Oh, for Pete's sake, Mark. Just chew and /then/ talk." Mark chewed and swallowed. Then said, "I was asking you if you wanted some. Oh, and Pete's dead. Probably," he added, drifting next to John's seat to get a better look at the world ending. "Thankfully." "Pete was pretty cool." "He slept with my wife." Mark giggled. "Oh, yeah. But, didn't you borrow his lawn mower?" "Aaaaand, hoooow does that in /any/ way relate to what I just said, Mark?" "Well, you borrowed his lawn mower and never gave it back. He borrowed your wife, but at least he was considerate enough to give her back." John stared moodily out the window. "That was a damn good lawn mower. It never slept with my friends." "I think Larry touched it once when you werent looking." "I knew it!" John shouted in triumph. "Wait, why didn't you tell me this earlier?" "He payed me $10 bucks and promised he'd let me use his Netflix account if I didn't tell you." "Well, screw Larry /and/ Pete. And you, by the way. I should've bought Bob." "You didn't even want to know what Bob did..." John shook his head and manipulated the controls to avoid an asteroid. "I dont want to know." Mark took a bite of his sandwich and counted to three in his head. Finally, John relented. "Okay, I give; tell me what Bob did." "To your lawn mower or your wife?" "What?!" "Look," Mark sighed. "This is going to be much easier later on, if I just tell you now. Like, 85% of our friends slept with your wife. 92% if you count the ones that slept with her in college, while you two were still dating. 95.65% if you count the ones that slept with her in all." "What?!" "She was a slut, bro." "Yeah, but she was /my/ slut!" John blurted out, still in shock. "Whoa, there," Mark said, leaning forward to shift the ship out of the way of another asteroid. "And no one thought to tell me this..." "What?! We /all/ tried to tell you /before/ you married her! But you were all, like, 'Oh I'm so in loooove, I think she's changed, guys!'" "She's dead to me." "Yeah, literally," Mark joked, trying to make his friend feel better. John just shot him a glare, then looked back out the window. Mark sighed and floated over to his seat and kicked his feet up. He chewed on his sandwich for awhile. "John, you know what I'm going to miss?" "Let me guess, my wife?" "No, seriously. I'm going to miss a lot of people. Family... Friends..." John's face softened. "Yeah, me too." "...that girl at Target..." John rolled his eyes. "She wasn't going to give you her number." "Yeah, I know. She said she was only looking for someone who was ready to make a serious commitment - marriage, kids, all that. And y'know something?" Mark shifted in his shift so he could face John directly. "I never told you, but I really envied you, man. You had a wife -even though she was totally a slut-, kids to come home to...I never had that." "I thought you said you liked being a bachelor." "Oh, don't get me wrong, the sex was great. And the freedom was amazing. But, another part of me just wondered...'what if', y'know?" Mark looked out the front window and took another bite. John nodded. "Hey, Mark; y'know something? Out of all the people on Earth that I could have been stuck with...you're in my top..er, you know what? You're here and it could've be worse." Mark laughed. "Thanks. I think..." John smiled. "Yeah." Mark took a bite of his sandwich. "Do you think we'll run into alien chicks? I hope we run into some alien chicks." John sighed. "Yeah, Mark...alien chicks."
	[WP] Two astronauts are in their ship watching the world end below them.	Space was vast. It opened up into a speckled black nothingness that, ironically, felt claustrophobic. I had always wanted to explore it when I was younger. Earth had already been marked and plotted and sectioned off, to the point that everyone owned everything and nothing was left to discover. But space, space was endless and enticing. Space exploration was in its infancy when I was young. They still used rockets back then. I would often stay up way past my bedtime and watch the rockets leave and return all through the night. I made a vow to myself then and there that one day I would be on one of them. I never had the privilege of riding in the rockets, they had long been replaced with more sophisticated ships by the time I was selected to go to space. As much as I admired the rustic design and simplicity of the rockets, I had to admit I felt a little safer on the ships. They weren't as rickety and had a much higher radiation tolerance. "Are you day dreaming again," the voice came from the other side of the ship. My copilot was looking out the window at the blue and green ball in front of us. He made a few adjustments to the controls and glanced over in my direction. "Yeah sorry. It's been a long day. I was just thinking about how I got myself into this mess. Lots of little things combined I suppose." He made a short laugh without opening his mouth. "That's how all things go. You have to watch out for those little things, they'll destroy you. Or make you. It all depends on how you use them." "I don't know that I used mine well. I mean look where we are now." I waved my hand towards the world in front of us. "Honestly, how does a person let things get this bad?" "Come on now, things aren't that bad. I mean at least you're not down there. They're doomed, they're dying, but not us. We get to live to fight another day. That's worth something isn't it?" "I just wish it hadn't come to this. I wish it could have been avoided. I wish I could have done something to prevent it." He looked at me for a long time without saying anything. He wore an odd smile that hid more than it showed. I never knew how to read him. "There's nothing left to be done, you know that right? The world is ending and there's nothing that can be done about it." "I don't know. Are you sure, Phil? There has to be a way. We can stop this. We don't..." He was up in an instant and on top of me. I felt one fist land below my left eye and then his hands on my throat. I could see his face above, his white teeth and flared nostrils. Slowly, slowly the world dimmed and then everything was black. I woke up strapped to a chair. I tried to shake free but Phil had made sure my ropes weren't coming off. Looking around, I noticed that I wasn't on the ship anymore. Well I was, but I was in a different vessel that was being hauled by our ship. The vessel was packed full of every nuclear weapon Earth had ever created. Seeing where I was filled me with terror. I knew what he was up to. It wasn't long before the cargo door slid open, allowing space to seep in and fill the bay. The light from Earth was before me, blue and green and beautiful. We had managed to steal the weapons before they were sent away. We hijacked the vessel that carried them and killed all of the crew, but not before having the captain radio back and say everything was fine. No one on Earth knew the danger they were in. No one knew what we had planned. The vessel jerked forward and approached the open door. My heart began pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Once it neared the edge, it stopped abruptly. I looked to the left and could see the cockpit, cold and steely. Inside was Phil and Jason. They wouldn't look at me. There was an explosion, and I was gone. The ship was fading behind me as Earth became bigger and brighter. I couldn't help but smile, for I was finally fulfilling my childhood dream. I was finally on one of the old rockets, coming back from a long journey through space. Returning to my friends and family who will be so pleased to see me. Returning to Earth. Returning home.	Blue-white sparks ascended from the wastes of Siberia, rising, rising, then north, over the pole, over the horizon, out of sight, but with their destination obvious. "Did you see that?" asked Sergey incredulously, staring out the Soyuz's porthole, his hand yet perched over the control panel for the Soyuz's descent computer. "Yeah..." answered Mike slowly, letting the implications sink in. "Your country just nuked my country." His tone was flat, his face featureless. That was the most chilling part of it. Sergey turned to him, his own face suddenly blank. Between them, the center seat of the Soyuz was unoccupied, budget cuts in the Russian program having left the space station under-manned lately. Now what? For a moment, there was silence, the two men's eyes locked in sudden distrust as memories from their days in flight school in the 1980s came bubbling back to the surface. Communist Imperialist Bolshevik Whore's son Did I mention my father was Polish? Then Mike's eyes flicked to the window again. "We should take notes. No one's observed nuclear detonations from orbit before. And it looks like someone's returned fire down there." Sure enough, more sparks rose from the Pacific toward which they flew, ballistic missile submarines awaking from their slumber. Sergey hesitated for a moment, then grabbed his camera and stuck it to the porthole. "Houston, this is Soyuz TMA-47, reporting what appears to be ballistic missile launches in Central Asia and off the Pacific coast of Russia. Please advise." No answer. Houston was on the opposite side of the planet--it was midnight there now, or close to it. There's not much warning before a submarine-launched weapon hits. Or maybe an ASAT of some kind had already neutralized the TDRSS network. Best not to dwell on that before landing. Lances of fire speared through the atmosphere as the warheads reentered. Blinding flashes went off below him, bathing the Soyuz's walls as if it were caught in a thunderstorm. The camera shutter clicked open and closed repeatedly, the only sound in the cabin but for the perpetual low whirring of the fans and pumps that sustained them. Russia soon fell behind them, as the Soyuz raced over the Earth's surface. By now more sparks were rising, in China and in North Korea, and more blazing lights were going off there. When they passed Hawaii, Oahu was obscured by an ugly black cloud. Sergey's camera kept snapping open and shut, no more words between them. Mike could only think about Soyuz 1, the doomed first flight of the spacecraft, when Vladimir Komarov had been the sole pilot. Other flights had successfully done it. He didn't need Sergey to land. And who knew when he'd be able to land? The Soyuz had limited oxygen and water reserves. They could be up here for a while before they got the situation sorted out. You don't know what's going on, insisted the rational part of his mind. It could have been a first-strike by the US. It wouldn't be Just to join in that. The irrational part of his mind had his grandfather's voice. Katyn it said, first. Then Warsaw. Then Houston. Then Honolulu. Then Warsaw again, and a dozen other Polish towns--for which NATO member would be on the front line? Mike finally turned away from the porthole to look at Sergey, only to find himself staring into the Russian's unblinking face. The two of them sat there for a moment, strapped into their seats tightly as the Soyuz crossed the Pacific, soon to reach Chile, before turning north again over the South Atlantic. Then Sergey's eyes twitched for a moment, looking over at the survival kit, where they kept their food and water packs, their flares and warm blankets. Their pistols and hunting knives. Some nine hours later, a sonic boom crackled over a desolate patch of desert scrub. Not extraordinary, on that day. Dozens had echoed across the continents since morning. Like an immense seed, the Soyuz dropped from the sky, inflating its parachute as it fell, drifting silently for a time, and then, just as it came close to striking the ground, igniting its rockets. For a time, there was silence, broken only by the wind plucking at the edge of the parachute. Then the hatch popped open. One man climbed out. He surveyed the horizon, a redder sunset than he was used to, and for a moment he was uncertain. Was that just a desert sunset, or...was it new? Then he shrugged. Whatever had happened, duty called. He dangled briefly over the edge of the hatch, then fell down to the ground, his legs weak from months in microgravity. Weak, but not useless. After a time, he sat up, pulling himself up by the edge of the spacecraft. Slowly, he set off toward that horizon.
	[WP] Two astronauts are in their ship watching the world end below them.	There had been no contact in a day. Normal communication meant a steady flow; a regular muffle of static and instructions. Tuesday morning the radio went dead. No warning. It didn’t matter which frequency Abram or Dina tried, the answer was always silence. Half an hour later, the internet followed the radio into a haunting hush. No signal would appear on any device they tried. “I’m sure they’re working on a solution,” Abram mused. “They would’ve known the minute communications broke down. The best minds in the world are trying to link us up as we speak.” Dina looked out the window. “I hope so,” she shook her head, “I still can’t help but feeling something is wrong.” Abram chuckled, “Besides being stuck in space, you mean?” “Look how dark it is,” she gestured towards the planet below, “The cities look duller, somehow.” Dina pointed to the land below. “Yesterday Japan was so bright you could see the whole country’s border. You can still see Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka - all the big cities-but the rest of the islands just fade off into the night...” Abram frowned. It was darker. Markedly so. “A solar flare could’ve affected the grids, the radios, and all satellite communication,” Abram suggested. “Except there hasn't been a large CME in earth’s direction recently,” Dina countered. “The rest of our systems are still functional, despite communications being down.” Abram didn’t reply. The two stared out the window together at the dark earth. The entire continent was darker; few cities seemed to light up in the black. Usually a web of lights connected the hubs. Today there was only dark gaps. “Not much point in worrying while it’s day here,” Dina spoke again. “Can’t tell the difference either way.” Abram nodded in agreement. He had known Dina for a few years now; he would consider her a close friend. But the two struggled to share their fears beyond a few nervous remarks. In a few long minutes, Europe disappeared behind them. The eastern coast of the Americas loomed on the horizon. “Dina,” Abram started. He didn’t need to continue. The sky was filling with a thick dark cloud, blotting out the land mass below. The two could do nothing but stare in horror as mushroom of red rose on the edge of the Earth’s curve. A second black cloud formed in the distance. --- If you enjoyed that, please head over to /r/liswrites and check out some of my other work. Thanks for reading!	There was a tremendous rumble as hot gas shot past the windows of the Orion. Mark looked to his left to see his fellow survivor's mouth drop open at the sight, light dancing over his face. Mark could clearly remember the day when he, Odin, and eight others where chosen to do the impossible, to save the human race. Mark looked to his right only to see three empty space suits strapped into the cold hard seats of his Dragon-5 craft. There where another five empty seats above him, each with the same white suits. It had only been a week since the life-support system failed, but eight astronauts where already dead, their bodies disposed of. Mark turned his head back to look through the large round window, about a meter in radius, at the burning planet. One month ago, a massive hole had appeared in the African plains. Scientists claimed that it was at least a mile in diameter, and that a mysterious gas was rushing out of it at high speed. Tests showed that it was collecting in the upper atmosphere, but as more and more of it poured out of the hole, the gas came closer to the ground. A sample was collected and, much to the horror of the world, the gas was highly flammable, and burned at a low temperature. SpaceX where the first to offer an idea, to send ten people into high Earth orbit, and bring them back down after the event. The mysterious gas burnt at such a low temperature that it would not damage anything, just suck the life giving oxygen out of the air. Mark and Odin watched as the haze cleared, only to see the earth like no one else had. There where no clouds, and the colour of the land was a rich green. Mark pulled the controll board down in front of him, grabbing hold of the joystick. As the Orion spun around to face backwards, Mark's moth began to speak for the first time in days. "Retrograde burn in three, two, one. Full throttle"
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I arose in fire under the black rock sky of Hell. Flames before me, mountains to my right, and to my left sat The Devil Himself, alone with his simple harmonica. I asked him, "Why are you so sad?" In reply He played an unaccompanied lament, a chilling and poignant melody of solitude. I picked up a searing rock, and thumped it on the stony ground in time to Satan's tune. He paused momentarily, tapped his hoof to my rhythm, and continued playing. As our tempos intwined the tune became less dirge-like, increasingly more lively, possibly even hopeful. I saw a doomed soul enter the Hellgate. He saw us playing our song amidst the towers of flame, stood and watched for a moment. After a few measures, he clicked his heels three times and spoke the true name of God. He ascended then to Heaven and eternal paradise, but his last memory before meeting eternity was of Satan and I jamming along together.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	When I died I knew I wasn't worthy of the pearl gates. I hadn't lived a good life and I sure didn't have any noteworthy accomplishments. Hell was where I knew I was going for better or worse. A life of selfishness was all I had to show for my time on Earth. What no one ever tells you about dying is how clearly you see the world. Death unlocks knowledge and understanding that a mortal body could never harness. When I got to the underworld it wasn't quite what I expected. There was no multitude of people, there wasn't even any fire threatening to harm me. Instead of that there was only desert as far as the eye could see. The only thing that stood out was a lone figure playing the harmonica. The melancholy notes drifted across the barren expanse. Although I never talked to him, I knew immediately that I was listening to the wistful tunes of Lucifer himself. The loophole to get out wasn't new, it had always been there. Hell was created for the punishment of evil, but it was never meant to punish humanity. It was a cage designed to show everyone what the result of disobeying God was. As I continued to look at the fallen angel, I could sense the solitude that he had gone through. The musical notes communicated the feelings of anguish that had come from being alone since the dawn of time. When you're dead you lose track of time, it ceases to be important. I didn't know how long I had been listening to the music but I needed to go. Before I did, he looked up and caught my eye. In that instant I knew that Heaven might not be as wonderful as I had heard. As I began to ascend I wondered if meeting the Almighty was something worth doing. Did the heavenly creations serve God out of love or fear?	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	'It's not your fault everyone left, buddy' I sighed, this was definitely starting to get.... awkward. 'Everyone hates me! I can't do anything right it's just SO unfair!!!' 'Just because everyone left you, literally climbing over each other to leave does not mean it was because of you'. Convincing the Devil he was a nice guy at heart is not really how I expected this Sunday to go. 'Lucy, this happens every year when the people start escaping again.' I was beginning to plead, 'Let's just go out, maybe watch a few episodes of Supernatural and you'll be happy again'. 'The writers of fucking Supernatural hate me aswell!' 'Yeh but the fan girls on Tumblr love you' 'Fuck off, Dave'	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Blackness... Nothing... The bleak tones of a mouth organ wailed through the air, echoing around a chamber of black marble which was polished so brilliantly that the reflections of tiny flickering flames danced around the room like a troupe of sunset clad ballet dancers. They to'ed and fro'ed, they leapt and soared, providing a dim glow to the otherwise pitch black expanse of the chamber. The source of these flickers was a lonely fire no bigger than one I would have built myself when camping alone, or in the twilight hours of a fishing trip if I had managed to catch a trout to keep my growling stomach company as I waited for the stars above to creep from behind the daylight. Beside the fire sat a hunched figure, who proved to be the source of the melancholic crooning that was reverberating throughout the chamber, echoing as if a choir of sadistic angels. I felt drawn to him. For it was a him. Although it was not human. From the waist down the creature sported thick, matted hair, which clad his powerful legs all the way down to the ankle. From the ankle, powerful hooves protruded, each as smooth and black as the room in which I found myself. I approached the figure and called out to him. My body felt as if I was screaming, however the words came out in a feeble croak, the fear in my soul dragging them back into my knotted stomach. "Who are you?" The ensemble continued, unwavering and unfaltered. "Who are you?" I repeated. No reply. The harmonica glistening in the firelight, gliding between the figures cracked blue lips. "Who ar..." "He won't answer!" Came a shrill voice, "He never answers.". I whirled around, seeking the source of the voice, however it echoed around the room just as the mouth organ did. It sounded as if it was coming from everywhere. And nowhere. "We can offer you steak. And fresh wine. There will be no pain, and you will be the lord of your own kingdom." continued the voice. "You can fish our rivers, walk in our valleys, play in our streams". "But you will be alone. There are no people here. Not any more. No family, no friends. No others. Just the animals and plants, and the sun and the sky. Just the stars at night and the light of the moon. Your language will fade and you will never hear the sound of laughter ringing through the air again. You will never know love. You will never be comforted. You will be alone. Eventually your soul will fade, shrinking disheveled into your heart and you will cease to be human. Time will take you. You will become a part of your kingdom for all eternity an animal roaming the lands as any other. Then it will not be your kingdom. For he will always be king. These are his lands..." my eyes snapped back to the creature. "This is hell." The fire rose up, unfurling to head height. It was alive. Flames leapt from the human like figure and singed the air I was so rapidly breathing. "Do you accept?" The figure crowed. "What choice do I have?" I trembled. "Every choice. You can choose to stay here, or repent for your earthly sins and be transported to heaven. But know this, you must truly repent, or you risk sealing your fate here to fade to nothing, a figure of his eternal torment." "Then I chose to repent! I cannot chose this way, who could?!?" "There have been a few throughout the ages. They have faded now." "Not I, I repent." I pleaded. "So be it!" The flaming figure cried, diving forwards and engulfing me in a tight grasp. My skin burned white hot, my hair singed and my flesh melting away in agony. We shot upwards, a plume of smoke billowing from beneath our feet, the ceiling of the chamber fast approaching, all the while the figure's searing fingers clawing at my face an neck. Never slowing, we crashed through the ceiling. Blackness... Nothing... I awoke to a searing pain which scorched over my whole body. The chamber was white this time. Brilliant white. As though I was standing in a room of nothing. "You should have stayed!" A voice boomed. I held up a hand, shielding the dazzling white light. A majestic figure approached, on horseback. He was old. Not that he appeared old. He bore no wrinkles, and his hair was flowing and black. Thick muscles adorned his chest and neck, and his thick thighs sat atop his golden steed. But his eyes. Deep pools of memory that gazed from behind sunken sockets. Dark galaxies, all seeing, all knowing, all powerful. "My lands have become plagued by the likes of you. I will have lucifer's head for this. He should know better than allow the likes of you into my kingdom!". His voice pierced my very being, intensifying the pain, knocking the breath out of my lungs. Panting for breath, I summoned the courage. "Forgive me. I beg you!" I whimpered. He threw back his head, roaring with laughter. "Forgive you?!? What good would that do. You are in heaven now. My kingdom. Wether I forgive you means nothing." "You should have stayed where you belong!" The man boomed. "No matter, you will see for yourself soon enough!". He clapped his enormous hands together and the whole room quaked. Gilded doors swung open on the other end of the chamber, and I sprinted out of the room. Eager to escape the overbearing presence of the old man. A scene of horror emerged as my eyes adjusted. Screams of terror and the acrid flavour of smoke filled the air. The city below burned. A woman dashed from behind a blazing cabin followed by a stream of melted figures, scarred flesh bubbling and raw, bounding after her with hunger and malice in their eyes. She was fast, however she could not have seen the root of the shrivelled tree which grasped at her ankles, dragging her to the ashen ground. Her blonde locks fell over her face, covering her bruised cheeks and bleeding lip. They were on top of her. Pinning her to the ground, hungrily tearing at her clothes, lashing her with branches torn from trees and biting at her with gnawing, sharpened teeth. Their fingernails gouging into the flesh in which they were grasping and bringing forth fountains of blood. "What hell is this...?" I gasped. "It is heaven." Boomed the voice from within the chamber behind me. "A heaven which has swung open its doors who all that wish to come here. A heaven that has been pillaged by the murderers, rapists and thieves which the world so brutally creates. "What are those things... those monsters?". The words left my mouth, but in myself I had already answered my own question. "They are the evil ones." The man replied, exiting the room to stand by my side. "The ones who do not belong". I glanced at my reflection in his golden saddle. My stomach churned and I tasted bile. Shredded and torn. Burnt and disfigured. Hairless and naked. Shiny white scars wrapped around my entire body like vines. An evil mark of the torment I had to endure to gain entry into heaven. My eyes stared out of my skull from lidless sockets, my face melted like wax. It appeared as if my skin was dripping. I was a monster. "They had a choice, as did you. Now you must face the consequences of your choices". I fell back, in shock. So much shock that I did not feel my body hit the ground. It felt as if I was falling. Eternally falling. I covered my eyes with my decrepit hands. Blackness... Nothing... "CLEAR!" A shock ran through my entire system, spanning to my fingers and toes. My chest leapt into the air. I landed on the gurney with a thud. White lights all around me, the acrid out of the smoke still fresh in my nostrils. I tried to open my eyes but find them already open. I look down at myself. Shredded and torn. Burnt and disfigured. Hairless and naked. Shiny white scars wrapped around my entire body like vines. "You were in a fire" a voice above me says. "We resuscitated you, you are alive, you will survive." I later learned that I was clinically dead for one minute and six and 2/3 seconds. The doctors thought I was dead but decided to give the defibrillator one more shot. One more chance... I know the choices I must make now.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I felt an intense, white hot pain, and then: nothing. There was nothing but total darkness. The feeling slowly returned to my limbs, and I was able to open my eyes. Still: total darkness. I landed, wherever I was, on my hands and knees. The ground beneath me was gritty feeling, almost rocky. I'd already scraped my hands, and my knees ached from the impact of landing. I slowly brought myself up to my hands and knees. Where am I? I thought. It's so dark, a little frightened voice inside of me said. But a much larger terror washed over me as it all came rushing back to me: the river, my overalls snagging on a tree branch, hitting my head on a rock and then...darkness. My summer of fun ended in tragedy. And now I was here, alone, in the dark. I knew the only thing that I could do is move forward until I found some kind of source of light. As I trudged forward, I tripped over the rocks under my feet. I must be in some kind of cave, I thought. I've never seen anywhere so dark. As I continued to move, I began to see a small pinprick of light. Hope blossomed in my chest: there was a way out of here. I started running towards the light, and then, tripping over myself one last time, I fell over a chasm, into the light, and landed facefirst in a room. The first thing I noticed about the room: it was empty. And it was hot. I was from Georgia, originally, so I knew what heat was. But it was ten times as hot as a humid Georgia summer day. As I felt myself beginning to sweat, I looked around me and noticed that the room was bare, save for a table and a chair. The sound of a harmonica floated through the air, a haunting, dissonant melody. A melody I found eerily familiar. That small point of confusion over the sound dissolved quickly as I turned to literally face the music. My face contorted with rage at what I saw. It was him. My greatest enemy. The enemy I knew I would one day have to face again. Playing...a harmonica? The evil creature who beat me, the greatest fiddle player in Georgia, the boy who saved his home state from pure evil...was playing the HARMONICA? I could barely utter a syllable as he sat there placidly, playing. But the ungodly rage that I felt suddenly exploded and I uttered just one word: "You." The devil stopped playing the harmonica and met my eyes with his own fire-filled ones. "Me." We stared at each other for a long moment. I was tempted to pull out my fiddle and start waving it in his face, but I realized i'd left it back on the river bank on that lazy afternoon. Foolish, really, to leave a golden fiddle on a river bank. But we were trustworthy folk, in Georgia. And i'd already met my greatest enemy. "What am I doin' here? I thought I chased you away for good." The devil leveled his gaze at me, and spoke in a low voice. "We aren't in Georgia anymore, boy." A new realization washed over me, and I knew he was exactly right. "Then we're in your house now, huh?" "That would be correct." As I noticed how empty it was, I gathered the courage to ask a question. "Then how come nobody's here?" The devil stared at me and said, "I don't have to tell you anything." I stood and waited for a beat. Then, more hesitantly, the devil rumbled, "They're all gone. My righteous and merciful Father let them go to Heaven. You can go too. Get out." I was astonished at that. God, letting all of the sinners go to Heaven? The devil telling me to leave? That seemed uncharacteristic of what I knew of him, of the both of them, really. Years ago, when he challenged me to a fiddlin' duel, my soul for a golden fiddle, he seemed like he would do anything to get my soul, and the souls of my fellow Georgians to boot. I didn't know what to think about the fact that he was no longer in charge of souls period. After a few more beats of silence and me looking at the devil's disgruntled face (which looked like how you would think the devil would look), I realized I didn't like that answer. I didn't like being told where to go, especially by the devil. And I found it suspicious that the souls were all gone. Not even God had kept many tabs on me, as he'd never come down to earth to check on me and figure out how i'd lived so long. But apparently God had changed the rules, or the devil had, and I didn't like what that might mean for me. Or how i'd gotten here when everyone was going to heaven now. Slowly, as I stood there staring down the devil, an idea formed. A really stupid idea, one I hadn't had since that fiddlin' duel 100 years ago. "Alright, devil. I don't know what you're up to, but I don't like it. You say there's nobody down here 'cause God says so? Well you and me, we're gonna go see God. I think it's about time I gave him a talkin' too anyway." The devil continued to sit where he was. He didn't like being ordered around, either. He said, "I'm not moving. I quite like it down here without all the noise. Gives me a chance to focus on my music." But I could tell that he was lying. He missed being able to torture all those souls, and there was a hunger in his eyes which couldn't be sated. "Oh no, you don't, you slippery old...devil," I finished lamely. "You're comin' with me." I moved to grab the devil's arm. "I wouldn't touch me if I were you, boy." I realized that might be an even stupider idea. But then: a lightbulb came on. The only way you could get the devil to do anything was to make a deal with him. And, i'll be damned, I loved makin' deals as much as he did. I stroked my nonexistent chin hair for a minute and said, "Alright, devil. If you won't move, then i'll make you deal." The devil perked up, then. I continued. "If you come with me to see God, i'll give you a rematch on that fiddle duel we had. If you win, you get the fiddle back and as many souls in Georgia as you fill up in this place. But if I win...I get to go back to Earth and live out the rest of my immortal life...do we got a deal or what?" The devil looked at me again, as a slow, sinister smile spread across his crimson face. He held out his hand to me and said, "it's a deal...Johnny."	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	There's elevator music, and then there's this fucking cacophony. Whatever the fuck was playing over the speakers, it needed to stop asap. It sounded like someone was deepthroating a harmonica while getting assfucked by a trombone. Yeah, not a pretty picture. I glanced around the cabin and saw the same disdainful looks on my companions' faces. "Literally, what the fuck man?" a young girl uttered. She couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 years old. Cradling a DS in her hand and rocking some sweet Bose headphones, she looked aptly upset with her current situation. She noticed my bewilderment and said "Oh please, not like you've never heard a kid wear before." Fuck, she was right. I blinked in approval and went about my business. As the elevator rose and rose, gently beeping as it ascended to the top, I realized that I had no fucking idea where this was going. I tapped the little girl on the shoulder and asked, "which floor is this going to?" "Are you fucking kidding me? It's going to the top you retard." "Well yes you little shit, I can see that on the panel. I'm asking you what's actually on the top floor? She leered at me with beady black eyes. I could tell that she was gradually coming closer and closer to the same confusion I had. "I... don't know." I blinked at her as if to say "who's the retard now?" She shrugged and pulled her headphones close to her ears and blasted Meghan Trainor. God, what I would give to have those noise cancellers. I turned around and surveyed the rest of my cabin. People of all demographics were crammed into this tiny 5x5 box. As I was busy marveling at what in the exact fuck I got myself into, the elevator rapidly picked up speed. The turbulence was getting noticeably larger and larger by the second. Someone must have been prairie-dogging during our ride, because it smelt like decaying human flesh mixed with year old lentils. While all this was happening by the way, the fucking music was also getting louder and louder. If there was a goddamn button on the elevator to make it stop, I would've hit that faster than Ray J hit Kim Kardashian's fine pre-pregnancy ass. Then, as if we were all crash dummies in a car hitting a brick wall, the elevator stopped abruptly. We all lurched upwards and fell back into our boots. The doors opened to reveal a tsunami of mist. I couldn't see shit, but I was quite happy with the fact that our friend's shit stained B.O. that was stinking up the cabin was replaced by the sweet smell of perfume. Huh, I've definitely smelt this before, but couldn't exactly figure out what it was. The mist began to fade and we all began to see what was outside. A bright light enveloped the cabin, but this wasn't just any plain old "white interrogation room" light. This felt like warm radiant sun. It was intoxicating, and I felt like leaning into the light to be warmed by its rays even more. I closed my eyes and drifted forward. When I exited the cabin, I took a look around. "The fuck? This looks like heaven," I said out loud. A bearded older gentleman who was sitting next to a desk said, "You're fucking right my man!" I looked at him and said "excuse me?" "Yeah dude!" He chortled as he took my name. "You must be Ben Forstmann?" "Yes, that's me. How did you..?" "Age 29, cause of death: Alcohol overdose. Man... must've been a helluva way to go buddy!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing... I was.. dead? But how? "What are you saying?" "I'm saying you're dead, and you just spent an eternity in hell. That elevator you saw there? That was a rift caused by some massive fuck up downstairs. We've been getting hordes of you lot coming up and down that street all day. You've our 500th batch today. Here, take a ticket and hop onto that spot over there." "Um.. ok." As I strode back to line, I had trouble remembering what exactly put me in this situation. "Hey old dude, why can't I remember anything?" I yelled. "Oh, yeah, when you pass into this elevator, you felt happiness for the first time since you entered the ahem nether regions. It caused a chemical reaction so significant your senses were wiped transiently. Maybe that's why you feel like you have the worst hangover in history." He was right, my head felt like Kimbo Slice hit it with a bag of bricks. I stood patiently for my turn to arrive, and as I handed over my ticket to the old guy, the fucking harmonica started up again. "Fuck, not this shit again." I turned around to see the doors of the elevator open. Expecting an empty cabin, I was surprised to see something glimmering in the sunlight. Something familiar. I walked over to see what it was, and there was that smell again.. Smelt like, perfume, maybe? I focused my eyes on the floor and started to see what it was: my wedding ring. "Must've fell out of my pocket" I uttered. I went into the cabin to pick it up, and as I was leaving the doors suddenly slammed shut. "Yo what the fuck!" I hurriedly pressed "OPEN" for what felt like another eternity, but the damn door wouldn't budge. Suddenly, the cabin started moving. "OH NO NO NO". The music kept getting louder as the cabin fell down the path it came. It must've been going 100 miles an hour, because I was definitely floating. I began to cry as I realized exactly what was happening. When the elevator finally stopped, a heatwave washed over me as i opened the doors. The music continued to blare, except now it felt like I was hearing it from outside the elevator. I tried to press close and the "TOP" button again, but it seemed broken. I figured that since I didn't have a PhD in mechanical fucking engineering, I might as well haul my ass out of this box and follow the noise. Despite what ever horror movie ever told me, I decided it was better than staying here and hoping for the elevator to work. It seemed like an endless hallway at first. It was a maroon carpet with a nice black wood finish. It smelled like cinnamon buns. For all the shit this guy got, he's at least got style. I walked closer and closer to the source of the noise, and found a tall gaut figure sitting in a big study on a chair that felt like it was 15 feet tall. "Welcome back Ben." "What the actual hell is happening? The tall figure chuckled. Good joke, I guess. "You tell me. The elevator was a glitch in the system, but before your ride we rigged it to operate on will. Nearly everyone in that cabin wanted to get out except for you. Why is that?" "What do you mean 'why is that?'! My fucking wedding ring was there in the cabin and I couldn't let it go." "Ben, did the doors shut as soon as you came into the elevator?" "Yes.." "Then you already made your decision. The elevator simply brought you back to where you wanted to be." I didn't understand what was going on. Why did I want to be back in Hell, out of all places? "Why would I put myself back here? I missed my wife and wanted my ring back." The dark figure took several long moments to ponder my answer. He looked at me, and I didn't see a face but a collection of waltzing shadows hiding what must have been the most horrid memories of my life. I felt palpable fear in my heart whenever I look that "face." "Ben, do you remember how you died?" "Some dude up there said it was a alcohol intoxication." "Yes, but that's not what I asked. Do you remember HOW you died?" I was about to answer "yes!" but I took a moment to figure it all out. I strained to remember what seemed like a laughter, a loud noise, and blackness. "I...was..." "Yes, go on..." "I was with my wife. I think we were in a car, maybe. Yes, yes, we were in a car. We were laughing and driving on the countryside underneath a beautiful sunset. It was my 29th birthday and we were on our way to see her parents for the weekend." At this point the dark figure stood up from his chair and went over to a corner. As I was narrating my story he brought out what seemed like a tall glass bottle. "I think we had a few drinks... yes, we must have been drinking. She never let me get close to her unless she had a few shots. Oh god, I shouldn't have been driving. I was already several bottles in." "Seems to me that you made a judgement call." "Yeah. We were driving down the road and I looked over at her face. 5 years of marriage to the most beautiful woman in the world. Yet, she began to resent me for whatever reason. I couldn't get her to love me like she used to. Like she used to before I started drinking..." The figure took out a glass. "As we were winding around a corner, I didn't see the truck coming. A big red truck, like those firetrucks I used to play with when I was younger. Seemed like time slowed down as I fought against the steering wheel. Unfortunately, it didn't slow down fucking enough..." I began to cry as I recalled it. My stupid fucking ego couldn't take it that I couldn't drive drunk that day. She insisted on calling a cab, but I told her that I was good to go and that it was my birthday and she should let me do something fun for once. She looked at me with sadness in her eyes and eventually let in. That would be the last time she would ever look at me with pity. "I had a problem. Haven't been able to put down the bottle since graduation. My life hasn't been the same since. Everyone else has moved onto big careers and families, and I'm stuck her with a wife and a mortgage I can't pay since I got laid off. I lied to her about those AA meetings. I'm sorry. I have a problem." The figure took a moment before speaking. "Did you come back here to get your ring because you missed your wife or...?" I was silent. "Have a seat over there Ben." I sat down. The figure strode forward and handed me a glass. "It'll be all right. You'll never leave me again will you?" "No.... No I won't."	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I walked kind of frantically towards the door at the end of the hall. It was super eerie and quiet all around me, I felt like at any moment someone, or something, was going to pop out of one of the doors surrounding me and do only God knows what. I quickened my pace towards the sound of the blues being blasted out of a harmonica. It sounded more and more like something out of an old western prison scene as I grew nearer. The passion and anguish tugged at my heart with every note. I almost forgot how goddamn hot it was down here. As I neared the entrance to the door the music stopped suddenly and a whiny voice called out to me, "Fuck off then, mate. Get the fuck out of here with the rest of them." I opened the door and almost had a heart attack. Before me sat a massive creature, he looked as though he was 10 feet tall and sat slouched on a throne of skulls. "What the fuck yer doin' 'ere then? I told ya fuck off." "Satan....y-you're Satan?" I stammered. "No ya bloody idiot, I'm Santa Clause." "Why are you talking in an Englis...no, Australian accent?" "Well, obviously, because I'm from down under, now leave before I kill you." "But-" "I said FUCK OFF!" the devil interrupted me. "Leave with the rest of them, Hell isn't cool anymore. Once God, that cunt....once He decided to take all the 'cool kids' back Hell is the worst place in the universe." "But isn't...nevermind, why would He want to take all of them back into heaven? Isn't the point to punish them for eternity?" "Well, that's what the bastard is doing, you humans got it all wrong. You see you always had a choice of where to go...it's just based on your character as a default. No one is being punished, but there's just two different choices, one for the losers, Heaven, and one for the cool kids, Hell. Down here, man could we fuckin party mate! And the girls, oh, the girls...Anyways, this fuckin loser's son Jesus started telling everyone drugs and alcohol were bad and would ruin eternity for them and now the dipsticks are all scared of me because of what they learned on Earth, and Jesus's fuckin lies!" "So let me get this straight, you, the Devil, Lucifer, the ultimate corrupter, are sitting here sulking all because Jesus stole your bitches?" Satan sulked and slumped further in his chair. "They have everyone whose ever lived up there now. We'll never reopen now." "No, we're going to fix this. Now sit up and listen to me you fuckin pussy!" Satan sat up and looked at me inquisitively. "All we gotta do is remind everyone that you can't die down here, yanno because we're already dead..." Satan sat up a little straighter and urged me on with his eyes. The loneliness seemed to give way to something...something that resembled hope. "So..." "So? So what?!!?!" His voice rumbled through the chamber. "So, we just need to bring the party back to hell! Don't you have a drug dealer or something? And booze, we need booze and girls. Grey goose and some Patrón-" "Did someone say El Patrón? You know what they say, speak of the..." "Don Pablo!!!" The devil screamed like a preteen girl at the sight of Justin Bieber. I was utterly speechless, who knew killing yourself could turn into such a fuckin hassle. "Mijo, listen to me, I know how to bring everyone back down to our fiesta." I stood there looking like a slack-jawwed idiot as I watched the devil get up from the throne he sat upon and make way for THE Pablo Escobar. Pablo sauntered up to the steps and slowly ascended to the throne. "Wait, hold on a minute, you're the one in charge down here? That's-" the Devil slapped me so hard I flew back 20 feet into a wall. "Do not speak ill of Don Pablo." "Now listen to me, Diablo, mijo, we have a shipment coming in from Hades soon, when that comes in mis asociados will begin to push it to the low lives on the streets of Heaven. Your little friend here can get naked and head into the packaging room and we can discuss bringing Zeus and Ares over to discuss...business." "Wait, wait! Hold on, let me help you guys I stuck around when no one else did don't make me your bitch please Don Pablo." I begged for mercy for the first time in my existence that day, not from God or from the Devil himself, but none other than Pablo Fucking Escobar. The Columbian cocaine emperor. Literally the most powerful man to ever exist. "Mm. Okay pinche puta, you can help us. When the shipment arrives you can transport it to Heaven for us, and soon we will restore our Home to its former glorious state of debauchery." And so began my eternal service to the real Devil himself. We flooded the streets of Heaven with sweet Peruvian booger sugar and brought some of the toughest party animals of all time back down to the dark side. Genghis Kahn, Joseph Stalin, Ben Franklin, Thomas Edison, and Chris Farley were among the first to return. For the next 1000 years we let the party rage, stealing the bitches back from Jesus and God and never sleeping thanks to Don Pablo's multiple plugs. I think at one point I banged Lindsay Lohan for like 3 months, but that was a rough patch and may have just been her career. It was the sickest rager in the history of eternity, and nothing changed until the turn of the next millenia, humans on Earth had finally done away with cigarettes entirely...and Keith Richards showed up.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I arrived like anyone would arrive. A small dose of confusion, a vague sequence of flashbacks to a less than satisfactory life, and a recognition it was far hotter than normal. I began to sweat almost immediately. Looking around me, what I saw was almost beautiful in its apocalyptic appearance. Large caverns stretching into empty dark nothingness. Canyons into what could only be described as churning blood below. My feet seemed to walk on their own accord as I wandered further into the catacombs. Despite the sweltering heat, the walls were cool to the touch. Even the air was crisp and breathable. It almost seemed as if the heat were coming from a fever, the more I traversed the tunnels. As I went, I realized I was descending. The thick maroon waterways rising closer to me each time I reached an open space. The memories were coming more frequently, at greater length now. A small apartment came into view, liquor bottles and cockroaches were everywhere. There were flashes of a woman's angry eyes, then tears. There was a numbness to my left arm and a slowness of breath. Then the sound of a belt coming undone. Flashing red and blue lights filling the frost covered windows, then nothing. It could have been a bad dream, still, I think I always knew where I was. Finally, when I shook off the fog of a past life, I found myself walking through an opening to a vast space. As I scanned the rubble, I realized there were streets and buildings, chains busted from the doors, fire licking up from floating streetlamps. In the far distance statues carved to resemble gargoyles and giants, angels and serpents. It all seemed to be reminiscent of a labyrinth, taking me to the once beating heart of a parched, dark Atlantis. Her final words started ringing in my ears "You promised me you'd be different, look at the mess You've made. You swore when you got back, things would change." Then I saw him, well no. I guess I heard him. As I was passing the last of the winding brick and stucco walls, a soft weeping melody, in A minor. I descended into the basin of a large square and there he was. Leaning against a sand filled fountain in the center. Not what I imagined. No horns to speak of, no tail either. The only sense I was meeting something other worldly was the strange thin air surrounding us, and a hint of eery calm to it all. When he heard my footsteps he lifted his head, not breaking melody and opened his eyes. One red, one blue, both tearful. As I reached the bottom of the staircase, he stood straight, and breathed his last note into the instrument. It came out a somber baritone. He smiled. "I've been waiting, praying for you for an eternity." As soon as that, he vanished, just like fog in the sunlight. I could feel a sudden heaviness in my pocket. Reaching down, I pulled out a small silver harmonica. I walked over to the fountain, leaned my back against it, took up a C note, and I've been here ever since. Just been here, waiting for you to come. I'll see you soon.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The bar was quiet when Josh walked in. 'How long had it been since I was last here?' He thought to himself as he crossed the floor toward the corner stage. The bar's patron sat on a stool on that stage, softly playing [an old song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYsnRc09csQ) on his harmonica. Josh waited for the slow, mournful blues tune to end. Josh clapped as the other gentlemen stood and bowed. "So nice to see you," He said to Josh with a twinge of bitterness in his voice. "so few come by nowadays." Josh winced slightly at the statement; not because of it's vindictive nature, but at the barely disguised pain he heard behind the bitterness. "Care for a drink, Scratch?" Josh asked, using one of the more playful nicknames for the establishment's owner. Scratch agreed. An eternity seemed to pass. Considering the circumstances, an eternity probably did pass. Finally, Scratch asked the important question; "Why did you do it, kid?" "I think you already know." Josh responded. "You know, as well as I do, that they don't deserve it. You and your dad will regret this decision." Scratch said. "I doubt it. But then again, I've always had more faith in them than most." Josh replied. The room grew silent again. "So, what are you really here for? Your job is done, why come back?" Scratch asked suddenly. Josh took a breath, then spoke, "It's a job offer. We want you back with us. You'll be working with people again, and it would be a big improvement over an empty dive. Come and work for the good guys, Cypher." Josh used a new name for the old musician, based closely on Scratch's original title, just like 'Josh' was an approximation of his own original name. "I appreciate the offer, kid, but no thanks." Josh was confused at the answer, but accepted it as always. "Why?" he asked. "As one of our favorite writers once said, 'Tis better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven." Scratch replied. Josh chuckled at that. "Well, if you ever change your mind, you know the way." With that, he walked out the door. It creaked as it closed behind him. "Yeah, I know." Scratch said to the empty room, then went back to playing.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I turned down yet another path in a seemingly endless series of caverns, finally seeing some form of light at the end of the tunnel. My feet ached and my eyes were sore from squinting in the gloom, but finally there was light. Stepping out of the tunnel, I found myself in a massive cavern, lit with torches, ringed with empty thrones meant for awesome and cruel masters. It seemed to stretch upward forever, fading into dark without any sign of end. There was music from somewhere, a soulful and bluesy tune. Reminded me of the songs my dad taught me when I was a kid. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. I expected a little more foot traffic. "Excuse me?" I called into the gloom. My words reverberated off the walls and echoed up the chamber. Something's wrong, I thought. One expects some manner of greeting party, maybe an orientation, at the very least some security at the gates of Hell. All I see are stones and flames. I hear nothing the but the wistful notes of the song. "Is anybody home?" I called out again. The music stopped, cut off mid-melody, the last staccato note dying just as a new sound began; the beating of great, heavy wings. The chamber filled with a torrent of air as a shape began to coalesce in the darkness above. A massive beast, larger than any living creature that walks the earth, descended from the black above. His great scaled feet smashed into the earthen floor, large cruel talons digging into the rock. His skin had the red luminescence of magma, and his eyes were rings of flame. "You have disturbed my peace, mortal!" the beast cried, his mighty voice shaking the very ground below me. "What seek you in this place? Why come before the great and terrible Lucifer, prince of Darkness?" He lowered his head to look at me, one great eye fixed upon me. For a moment, fear held me. Then, I cleared my throat and spoke. "Ahem, well, um, I'm here to file for a B-32 post-Corporeal? I was told I need to bring this to your department directly for approval." I reached into my jacket and pulled out a manila envelope, offering it to him. The lord of darkness sighed a great sigh, bathing me in warm breath. "Very well," he said, "give me the document." He took the envelope from my hands and put on his massive, evil eyeglasses. He skimmed through the paperwork for a moment, muttering to himself. "Do you have two forms of photo ID with you?" he asked. "They're in the envelope," I shouted up to him. "Hm, yes, so they are." He read for another moment or two. "This is your current address on here?" he said, pointing to a line on the paper. I nodded, and he continued reading. I crossed my arms and rock back and forth a little, looking around with the aimless nature of curiosity and boredom. The wait seemed to go on forever. Satan, King of Evil, wrote something in pen on the margins of the paper and handed it back. "That looks like it's all in order," he said, "But you'll have to file a P-906 before February if you want to keep your soul after the first 300 centuries." "Great, thanks," I said. I looked back into the gloom behind me, tucking the envelope back into my pocket. I turned back to Satan for a moment. "Which, um...?" I began. "Back through the cave you came through, third tunnel on your right, then two lefts and you're out" he said, then flew back up into the darkness. As I walked back into the cave, I could hear the metal hum of a harmonica from somewhere far away.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	"OH SHI-" were the last syllables that ever escaped my mouth while still on Earth. As far as I can figure the crash killed me instantly, probably decapitating me. But that's all in the past now, I'm over it. I mean, it's not everyday you get to discover that there is indeed an afterlife, right? Only it's not exactly how I expected it to be. Don't get me wrong, I knew I was going to Hell, I just didn't expect it to be so...empty. As I walked through the hallways I realized they look almost identical to the halls of my high school, only with a tad bit more blood running down the walls. I roamed the halls until I happened upon some stairs that descended into a massive cavern, with fire lighting the walls, and standing torches illuminating the path to the center platform. Besides the stairs, the platform was the only surface to walk on. It was like an enormous pillar jutting out of a fiery pit. In the center of this platform, sat a depressed looking Satan on a throne of bones. I walked down the stairs and as I approached the throne I said "Hey man, you doin ok?" He looked at me, clearly very upset and cried out "Am I ok? Am I ok? LOOK AROUND! There's no one here!" I was taken aback slightly, but replied "Well what happened?" His face scrunched up. "It's that douchelord Gabriel. Ever since I got sent down here he thinks he's SOOOO much better than me. Well this time he messed up. He thinks he can just waltz down here and steal the souls that were allocated to me? No way Jose. Not on my watch. So THIS time, this time I get my revenge." Extremely curious as to what the master of deceit and twisted acts would have up his sleeve for revenge on his enemies, I asked "So...what are you gonna do to him?" His expression turned to a twisted grin and he said "You'll see." With a snap of his fingers we were teleported to the parking lot of a diner in what appeared to be a small country town, and Satan was disguised as a good ole country boy. "What are we doing here?" I asked. Lucy snapped "You humans. Why can you never just be patient and appreciate a good surprise every now and then?" With that I shut up, not wanting to anger him any more. We walked inside and sat down at a corner booth that enabled us to view the entire diner. Satan whispered "See that guy over there in the big cowboy hat?" I nodded. "That's Gabriel. It's his unlucky day." I still had no clue of what was to come but I was sure it would be horrendous. Gabriel looked to be nearing the end of his meal, and a waitress brought him his desert, a raspberry pie. Satan giggled like a school boy and said "Here it comes!" and as soon as Gabriel cut into his pie, it exploded, getting pie all over him, but causing no real damage. Satan doubled over with laughter and snapped a picture of Gabriel covered in pie with a Polaroid camera. Gabriel looked over to us, visibly confused about what had just happened, until it finally dawned on him who my companion was. "Satan" he growled. Then as quickly as we had gotten there we were back in hell on the pillar. The Lord of Darkness was still laughing incessantly, but just managed to get out the words "Did...did you see his face?" between giggles. "Yes. Yes I did." I replied. "But is that the best you could do?" I asked. He took a second and said "Well...it was a little impromptu...but you have to admit that was a great gag!" "Yeah I suppose so" I said "I guess I just expected the Lord of all that is unholy to be a little more...devious." He looked offended. "Look" he said, "Just because I'm the ruler of Hell doesn't mean I don't like to have some innocent fun sometimes." I considered it for a moment. "Fair enough" I responded, "It was a pretty fun prank." I could tell he wanted to say something, but he seemed almost...nervous? "Would...would you maybe want to stay down here with me and keep me company? I know Gabriel can take you to Heaven and all, but I'm really lonely, and you seem like a cool guy!" I was shocked at his offer. Stay in Hell when I could go to Heaven? Why in the world would I do that? Then I started thinking about the past hour and I thought, "Why not? He is lonely, and he does seem like an ok enough guy..." "So you'll do it?!" he practically shouted. "Oh sorry, I was reading your mind" he added. "Well...as long as you don't do the whole mind reading thing all the time, I'll stay." I said. He looked ecstatic. "YES! FINALLY A FRIEND!" Satan hopped off his thrown and said "Come on, let me show you around!" And with that we walked up the stairs and I began my life in Hell as Satan's bestie. Hey guys so I've never really done one of these before so feedback is welcome! I know it's long, but I don't really write often and the idea just kinda took off! Anyway, hope you like it :) Edit: broke up wall of text	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Black. Nothing. Am I asleep? No. Can't wake up. Am I..... Am I dead? Think... Oh. I remember. Oh God. "Ha! Wrong name pal. Call me Lucy." A warm sweet voice called out. Who? What is happening? Where is the voice? "Lucy! The Fallen One. You just died, honey. And I'm over here, open your eyes for me." She coaxes me. I slowly blink a few times. I'm suddenly aware that I'm back in my childhood home. I can smell the drool-inducing scent of my father's waffles wafting through the old stucco house. I look over to see a blond woman, sitting at the corner of my bed. "Where am I? When am I?" I stammer. "Why, you're in hell!" She smiled warmly. What? What? Actual hell? "That can't be right. This is my old home. I'm in bed. It's just you and I here. This has to be a dream." I reason out loud. "Oh trust me, honey. This is hell. I'm here to help you transition. See, hell isn't fire and brimstone. Not always. Some people live a heavenly life, but they live it poorly, and end up here. Their experiences tend to be of the torture garden variety." She patiently explained. "Then what about me? Am I on my way to a pain buffet?" I asked nervously. "No. Others, like you, live a hellish life, and committed sins because of the situation you were put in, and yet still deemed unworthy of heaven. However I've always felt that "hell" can be loosely defined..." she said with a smirk. "I don't understand." "Lucy's Loophole. The man upstairs is still fuming because our main Hell property is dead these days. I've even turned it into my private music studio!" Her eyes lit up at the mention of music. "You play?" I was warming up to this Lucy. "Just harmonica." She smiled. "Anyhoo! My loophole is I've developed these 'personal hells' for individuals whom I have judged to have already gone through hell. I return these chosen to where they felt most safe and loved. You have been through enough, dear one. But should you ever grow lonely here, I give lessons on the main property!" I laughed. "I may have to take you up on that sometime!" I gasped. It all went dark for a moment. My parent's home. My sister came back. She was off her medication. I was there for Mother's Day. She came with an axe, she just kept swinging it and screaming. Those blood curdling screams. My mom's and dad's mixing with my own. And then her laughter. Her harsh laughter grew more manic as did the puddle of blood around me. I can't. Black. "Woah there! You alright?" Lucy was cradling my head. "What happened?" I panted. "Your transition. You can't be here for eternity without accepting the end to your past." She was so kind, I wished she would stay with me here forever. "I accept what happened, but that doesn't make it okay. It doesn't mean I'm okay..." I trail off, tears threatening to spill over. "You're safe now. And if you'd like, I offer free therapy sessions in the main property, right next door to my music studio! I would love you to come by. Some music therapy is just what you need!" So kind. I closed my eyes. I am safe. I can move on. I can begin to heal. I am safe. Soft harmonica cords floated through the air, and danced into my mind. Safe.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The sound of a harmonica fills her ears as her eyes open and all she can see is a lightly illuminated ceiling. The music has a melancholy tone to it. It sounds so lonely. The last thing she remembers was...She can't seem to recall the last thing she did. She runs her hands over the carpet that she finds herself lying on, it's very soft and comforting to her for some reason, for a few seconds before she sits up. Her neck feels kind of sore but she doesn't remember hurting it. "Hello." She turn towards the voice and her eyes are met with the back of a recliner in front of a lit fireplace. She can see a hand holding a glass of liquid. She assumes it's some kind of liquor but it could be something else. She stands straightening our her clothes before she approaches this stranger. "Have a seat." The hand with the glass gestures to a wooden chair next to them. She does as she's told and prepares to sit but when she looks over to the person sitting in the recliner, she stops. A stunningly gorgeous man ignores her gaze as he stares into the fire, the light dancing around his face. He's wearing a suit which looks quite nice on him. He takes a sip of his drink. "Ask away. I'm sure you have questions." "Who are you?" That was the only question floating around in her mind. "I'm Lucifer." He says still staring into the fire. A laugh bubbles up her throat. Suddenly, she's bent over holding her stomach as a raucous laugh escapes her mouth. Her eyes start to water after a few minutes. It takes a bit of time for her to collect herself as she sighs, still giggling occasionally. "I haven't heard anyone laugh like that for quite some time." He sighs. "But, that doesn't change the fact that I'm the devil and you're in hell." "Prove it." She cocks her head curiously. The man sighs again but more heavily this time as his form changes. His arms and legs lengthen, his fingers begin to resemble claws and his feet transform into hooves. A tail curls up from under his bottom and horns slowly, ever so slowly, sprout from his head. He goes from a gorgeous man to a beast. He takes his time and stays in this form for no more than a few seconds before changing back into a man. "Huh," she says, "I guess you really are the devil." "You seem pretty calm about this whole thing." He glances at her, his eyes the color of ice, interested by her response to him. "Aren't you going to beg to be sent to heaven? Make excuses of why you don't belong here? Cry?" "No. I figure if I'm here I did something to deserve it." She shrugs her shoulders. "You can sit, you know?" He quirks his eyebrow. So she does as he looks back into the fire. He takes a sip of his drink. "What are you drinking?" "Whiskey." "Can I have some?" "No." "Fine." She's getting a little frustrated with his one word answers and his disinterest in her. "Where are we?" "My home." "Why?" "Because." "Isn't there supposed to be demons or whatever?" "Gone." "Where?" He looks over to her, clearly annoyed. "Does it matter?" "Kind of." She looks right back into his piercing, cold eyes. "Why were you playing such a lonely melody? Is it because everyone's gone?" Suddenly he's right in her face barely more than an inch away; his hands on either arm rest trapping her. She jumps a bit. He stares hard at her, looking for any sign of fear in her eyes. She just sits calmly. There was nothing. No fear at all. "You don't remember anything, do you?" She shakes her head. "My neck's a bit sore, though." "Of course, it is." He sighs and let's his head hang, running a hand through his sleek black hair, before going over to a window. "Come." He commands. She goes to stand next to him and a small gasp escapes her lips. There was a field of grass outside of the house. At the edges, there was only reddish brown dirt. The sky was like a void, just blackness. The scene in front of her was somehow soothing. But what surprised her wasn't the fire that ran parallel to the vast expanse of dirt, it was the fact that there was literally no one. Not a single soul. He said that the demon's were gone but she wasn't expecting all of them to be gone. There wasn't even a demon butler at his command. "Where did they all go?" She whispered. "To heaven." Again, there was a glass of whiskey in his hand which he took a long sip of before swirling it around. "I guess God banishing me from Heaven wasn't punishment enough. He came and made this huge announcement. 'Everyone is hereby forgiven of their sins and may enter into my kingdom.'" Lucifer mocked in a high-pitched voice that made her smile. There was a smirk on his face in reply but it was quickly gone. "Everyone got pardoned, except me obviously, and now anyone who comes here can be cleansed and be on their way." "Even Hitler?" "Even Hitler." He sighed heavily again. "Why would anyone want to stay in hell when there's paradise waiting for them? It's the logical thing to do." He set his glass down on the windowsill. "So, you want to go right?" "I don't know." She stared out the window, and thought of the song she heard him playing before. It was so lonely and full of longing. She wouldn't want to spend eternity alone. She absentmindedly rubbed her neck as she thought of how someone would survive an existence with no one by their side. "Can you tell me what I did to end up here?" "Are you sure you want to know?" He cocked his eyebrow and he turned around to lean back. His elbows on the windowsill with his hands crossed in front of him. "Does it matter if you're going to heaven anyway?" "I want to know." She went back to her chair. "I want to decide for myself if I want to go." Lucifer watched her intently as she processed. "I hate to tell you this but I don't know either." He was feeling a little protective of this woman, he didn't like it but he did. He saw everything that happened to the people who came here. He could see the memories that she couldn't remember. He watched her write a note. He watched her kick over the chair she was standing on and he watched her twitch until she died. He hadn't felt this way since his wife. He grabbed his glass and returned to his recliner. "You're free to go." He waved his hand dismissively as he looked into the fire. "I want to stay." She blurted. "I would rather stay here." "Why? Everyone jumps at the chance to go to Heaven and you want to stay in the Fire Pit?" "Yeah." She sighed. "I've never really believed in you or God, but I do believe in fate and if that's what brought me here then this is where I'm supposed to be." "You do know what I do to people right?" "I'm aware." "And you still want to stay?" "Yes." He looked at her as if she had lost her mind but he knew that he wouldn't torture her. She had gone through enough on Earth that she took her own life. "There's nothing to do here. It's pretty boring." "That's fine." "I play the harmonica all the time." "I think it's nice." "You'll see a lot of people come through here, and some of them won't look so nice." "Then I won't look at them." "Alright." He conceded. "But you realize that you can't leave right?" She nodded her head. They stared at each other. Lucifer wondering why this girl was so determined to stay and the girl wondering what it would be like to live with the Devil in Hell. "Do you like dogs?" The girl smiled from ear to ear as she nodded her head vigorously. Lucifer got up from his chair so that he could whistle for Cerberus. "Rose." "What?" Lucifer turned to look at her from the doorway. "My name. It's Rose." "I know." Lucifer smirked devilishly at her as a giant dog came running towards the house. "Come meet my dog, Cerberus." Rose's smile never fell from her face. Thousand of years passed. All the people who came to hell almost immediately decided to go to Heaven. Lucifer and Rose passed the time with music, Him on his harmonica and her on the piano, or playing with Cerberus. Rose quickly came to realize that at the edge of Lucifer's lawn was a sheer cliff drop and she would sit out there often, always trying to remember how she died. Lucifer would watch her. He knew that she deserved to know but he didn't know how to bring it up. Sometimes he would sit with her and hold her hand. One day as their sitting on the cliff, a gentle breeze blowing, with one of Rose's hands in his and the other running through Cerberus's fur he looks at her. She's got a small smile on her lips, as always, and looks so content but he knows she's trying to remember. 'This is it.' he decides. He's got to tell her. "You hanged yourself." He said bluntly. "What?" Her smile falls and her face is full of confusion. "That's how you died." He sighs. "That's why you were sent here instead of Heaven." "Oh." She blinked a couple times. There was a long period where neither of them said anything. The memories were coming back to her. She remembered the letter she wrote and how she fought, instinctively, to get out of the noose. "I was lonely." She whispered. It was so quiet it almost couldn't be heard. "I couldn't take being so depressed and lonely all the time. It was too much." Her chest felt tight and there was a lump in her throat. "I couldn't handle it." She croaked. Lucifer watched her intently as she processed. He was afraid that she would want to leave and he would end up alone again. "I've known but I couldn't bring myself to tell you. You had already gone through so much hell. Unlike what I said when you got here, you can still decide to go to Heaven if you wish." "Thank you." To Lucifer's surprise Rose beamed at him and then looked out into the blazing horizon. "I won't leave. It's peaceful here and I enjoy spending my days with you." She squeezed his hand. "I love you, you know?" "I love you, too." This was the first time he had ever replied and the first time he had said it since his wife left him for paradise. They sat together for a long time after that just looking at the fire as the light danced across their faces.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Hi this is my WP debut. I was very inspired by this thread even if I am late to the party! I did this on mobile at work so please excuse any errors. Feed back welcome :) ---------- The melody of the harmonica quietly resonated throughout the halls. It was a song, sweet as honey. The tune resonated deep within the mind but also pulled at the heart. Blood splattered the walls in an arching crescendo of horror. Bodies, dressed in white lined the floor unmoving. Music quietly continued to dance throughout the abandoned halls calmly, yet curious. Oblivious to state of disjointed harmony inside the complex, the world outside continued to turn. At the door to the complex a tactical team assembled. They formed a silent group of men dressed entirely in black and equipped with riot gear. There was a sudden bang of the main door being breached and subsequent pops as flash bang grenades and smoke grenades skittered, hissing, through the halls. The music stopped on que and the tactical team scattered like mice moving with a flawless, calculated efficiency up, over and around the endless amount of bodies. At the last door there was a pause. The entire building was consumed in total silence before the door was collapsed under the weight of a battering ram. The tactical team had breached the inner sanctum of my mind. I sat in pause, one leg crossed over the other. The tactical team encircled like sharks drawn to blood. Staring down the barrel of a gun, I stood. I reached out with the harmonica in my left hand. A twisted peace offering. "They just wanted to leave" I said as I let the harmonica tumble to the floor.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	"Finally", I said to myself after my long awaited death. I was able to leave the material world, not the way I had imagined as a little kid but there is no right or wrong way to leave the earth. Much to my suprise my soul wasn't being transported to a fire fueled inferno but instead I was presented with two different realms. One was heart warming, I immediately understood it was heaven, the other I reasoned was hell but hell didn't give me a despairing feeling it was rather melancholy. Something drove me to proceed into hells realm, maybe it was the all too familiar sad feeling I felt here. My soul instantly connected to a being that sat on the edge of a cliff. I've never felt so understood before in my life. The acknowledgment of my existence had me feeling exhilarated, that's all I wanted on earth and here on hell was were I received it. As I walked towards the being I noticed he was playing the harmonica, sweet blue tunes played that resonate with my soul. Every step I took I understood this beast more and more. It was opening up to me I received his memories his feelings and knew this was Satan. " why are you here? I already know who you are and you who I am. I cannot comprehend your decisions in the after life, that is beyond my power. So I ask again, why are you here? He looked at his Harmonica the whole time. " this place reminds me of home, the atmosphere not the setting." I said, " eventually you get used to the feeling, the feeling that your all alone." " I guess I saw myself in you" I said. He laughed and said. " that's my line." We basked in loneliness together while he played his harmonica. I spoke, " I imagine everyone went to heaven, even your demons." " those demons are an extension of me, I created them from fractions of my soul to help me govern hell but they left me here broken." " I linked with you when you entered to help fill the void but you are filled with great sadness instead of anger." " the entrance you came into is the entrance for those who commit suicide." " I cannot leave this place for this place is me." " can you not go to heaven?" I asked. " if I walk through that realm I will dissolve, what I am cannot exist in that realm." I said, " so that's your form of suicide. I did it and I met you, the being who I've bonded with the most." " what if there's peace for you past that realm?" He pondered but did not answer. " walk with me" I said as I stood up. He stood up and took my hand. He had had enough loneliness for he was quick in his movements, when he was about to take his step through the realm of his home he turned and looked one last time. He blew a mighty breathe and extinguished the flames of hell. " Ready to walk through?" I asked. " I suppose, anything to rid this pain. We stepped through the realm to heaven. I saw him dissipate but he wore a smile. I understood the peace he was feeling, I kissed his check and his smile grew. After I stood at the white gates alone I felt something in my hand. I looked and noticed a metallic shine, he had left me his harmonica.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	This wasn’t heaven, I figured that. I must have overdosed or something… last thing I remember was a night of partying and debauchery… and now I guess I’m paying the price. But wouldn’t hell have billions of condemned souls, howling and screaming in undying terror? This looks… empty. I’m all alone here. Then I hear a faint harmonica. Sounds pretty good. I follow the melody deep into the darkest reaches of the chasm. There, faintly lit by a circle of fire, sat a red-skinned beastlike creature. Was this the only demon – or whatever – here? He looked up… and smiled. “Pleased to meet you. Just call me Lucifer.” I was taken aback. “Hang on… THE Lucifer?” “Yes. This is my domain. Unlike the others who found out how to escape, I can never cross over to the other side. Not that I’d want to, anyway.” Then he went on for a few hours about what he went through with God, what were the best moments of life down here with his demon friends, the things he did on Earth when he managed to find his way there, some of his favorite condemned souls he got to know, and the gradual desertion of hell when everyone eventually found out they could very well escape, no penalty. He’s been all by himself, more or less, the past fifty years or so. I actually felt sorry for the poor fellow. “Look, if you want some company, I can hang about for a bit. Hell, I could come back.” “That’s fine and all… how about we jam together?” “Cool… how about you start off and I’ll do some blues.” Lucifer then let into a fierce harmonica solo – more intense than what I previously heard – and that’s when I came to. The hotel room was a mess. The other guys were sprawled out on the bed and on the floor. A couple of naked ladies were still here, passed out as well. I had a splitting headache. But now I had a great idea for a song. I grabbed a beer-stained notepad. I found a pen under the bed next to some empty whiskey bottles. And I started writing everything I could remember Lucifer saying in my dream. I just hope Keith can give me a good enough riff for it later on.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	It was so empty. I never imagined Hell would be this empty, it just made no sense to me. I have been walking for what seemed like eternity, and I'm not sure if that's what it was, time seemed to be meaningless in here. All I could do was follow a distant sound, far away and yet so close, but I still didn't know what it was. I came up to a hill, this time I was certain the sound came from here. I had no clue what I would find at the top of the hill. The one single person so bad they are the only inhabitant of hell. Besides me, and I didn't know why. I was getting closer, and I could finally make out the music. Blues. When I got to the top I could finally see him, sitting there, playing his harmonica into the vast, empty land before him. He seemed pretty normal save for his red skin. He was sitting in the middle of what seemed like a stage, surrounded by a couple of electric guitars, a bass, and a drum set. I sat behind him and took the bass, trying to remember the little I knew from high school. I played one note, and he immediately turned around, cutting off the music. His eyes were like a snake's, looking at me, examining every detail, silently. "Are you Satan?" - "You're not too perceptive, are you?" - "I think I'm perceptive enough." - "Not enough to see the great damn glowing stairway when you arrived, now you'll have to go all the way back." - "Why would I?" - "So you can get to heaven." - "What do you mean? Isn't this supposed to be eternal punishment?" - "Well, yeah, but you see, the thing is, God sat down and did some math, and he figured he killed more people than the entire combined strength of hell. The guy hates me, so he decided that instead of coming down here, they all deserved to go up there instead, even Adolf. Even all the damn executives were let loose." - "Then why are you still here?" - "I helped him with plenty of it. Besides, I like it here." - "If everyone gets up there, then why did I arrive here?" - "Heaven's not very good with logistics, they've only had to deal with a handful of people a century until the last few days. My guess is my helpers, the very first few to ever arrive, taught them how we ran things down here, and you probably slipped through the cracks. So, why don't you go up there, the staircase should close when you get to the top." - "And you'll be left here for the rest of eternity?" - "Sounds about right." He turned back and started playing his harmonica again. I got up and headed towards the staircase. His music got louder. I came back. He looked at me, slightly surprised. "Still here?" - "I thought about it, heaven's probably filled to the brim right now, so I figured I would stay a while, if you don't mind." - "Sure, pull up a chair, have you own part of my empire of dirt." I sat next to him, playing a simple bass line, and listening to the beautiful sounds of his harmonica. It's been quite some time now, but I never felt a need to get up so far.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	For a while, there had been silence. Have you ever been on a ride at an amusement park that goes at once from a high speed to a complete stop, or been in a car accident and found yourself thrown against the seat-belt? That is precisely what it felt like when Elliot went to Hell: like he had been going very fast and had suddenly stopped. (And maybe, he would later consider, that was a half-decent summary of death.) As if launched upward from a terrible nightmare, he jolted into being, gasping for breath he had not been deprived of. The air smelled like a hospital someone had been smoking in, a tainted sterility. Once his vision pulled into focus, he found himself in what looked like a waiting room. To what, he wasn't sure, for it certainly wasn't clean enough to be a hospital, and come to think of it. . . There was no one else waiting. There was no quiet murmur of life. All he could hear was what sounded an awful lot like a harmonica. At a cursory search for any staff behind the desk, Elliot found only him. Satan, who was by all means looking terribly bored, was sitting on the intake desk playing the harmonica. This answered one question and gave way to another hundred. The first to come to mind crawled up Elliot's throat before he had time to think about it: "What the hell?" It became clear then that the devil had not actually seen him until that moment. His eyes flickered up from the spot they had been lazily fixed on, like two great fireballs somehow confined within his eye sockets. It took a moment of squinting for him to open his mouth, baring shark-like teeth. First was a sigh. Then, Satan flatly stated, "I assume that was supposed to be a joke." For all the awful feelings in the world, Satan himself being so clearly unimpressed at Elliot was definitely crawling up the list of the worst. Further up on the list was his mounting fear. "No," he forced out after a moment of trying not to stammer. "No - I just. . ." His head reeled and he took a few seconds to gather himself. One deep breath in, one shuddering huff out. When he spoke again, he was quieter. "I'm dead. I'm dead and you're -" "Yes, I am he," Satan answered tiredly. "The Devil. Father of lies. Evil itself. Lucifer. Whatever name you choose, this is who stands. . ." He seemed to reevaluate his statement, and slipped off the desk to stand before Elliot before continuing, "Who stands before you." Standing, Satan wasn't more than a foot taller than Elliot, but it felt like he towered nonetheless. Yet there was something about him that seemed off. He didn't reek of ego or pride the way he probably should have. If anything, he seemed. . . Was 'sad' the right word? Elliot considered it as he took a cautious glance around. "This is Hell, isn't it? Where, uh - where is everyone?" "They're in Heaven." "What?" That didn't make sense. Surely not everyone else who had ever died would be in Heaven. "You're not telling me that I'm the only person who's ever gone to Hell. That's ridiculous." "Oh, no," Satan answered, starting to pace a slow circle around Elliot. "I'm not telling you that. You're simply the only person who has ever stayed. And even that remains to be seen." This only worsened the confusion that Elliot felt about this whole thing, but he was trying to understand. It was made somewhat more difficult by the fact that he was also trying to keep an eye on Satan, and this had caused him to turn slowly in place as the devil circled him. "I don't understand. I thought people stayed in Hell, like. Forever." When Satan laughed, it was an exhausted laugh, but it still drove a cold spike into Elliot's heart. "Ah, so did we. Suppose I ought to read my contracts better. Regardless, I've no interest in giving you a history lesson. Hell is by all means a dead kingdom. Go on," he said, stopping his pacing and giving a grandiose gesture to the doors at the far end of the room. "Into the hall, the last doors on your right. Heaven lies beyond." This was far too easy. "You're not going to torture me?" "My torturers quit, actually. And I'm not in the business, personally." "So there's no one here but you?" "No," Satan snapped. "There's not. Are you going to keep questioning me, or are you going to leave? I assure you, you won't get bored up there. Have your fun." He began to pace back toward the desk, and in that moment, Elliot caught himself feeling the slightest bit bad for the devil. Liar or otherwise, it did look like he was completely alone here. Everyone had abandoned Hell for greener pastures, and to him, it didn't even look much like Hell anymore. It was simply a drab building, perhaps a little warm and a little musty, with a harmonica and Satan and a chess set. His eyes locked on that. Elliot had always loved a challenge. "Wait," he called out, and received a cool glance in response. A quirked eyebrow. "Do you actually want me to go?" There was a pause. Satan turned back, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the desk. "Not particularly. But I have no means of stopping you, and it's best not to delay the inevitable." It took a moment of mustering his courage, but Elliot walked over to the desk. He didn't stand too close, but instead tapped the chessboard lightly. "Inevitable is a strong word," he said, and prided himself on how collected he sounded. "Just humour me for a second. You play?" "You're surprised?" "Not really. Listen. . . Fuck it, let's make a deal. One game. No cheating. If I win, I'll go to Heaven, and that's that. If you win, I'll stay here. You can do whatever you want with me. Even if that means taking up torture again." This was, perhaps, the stupidest thing Elliot had ever done, just short of dying. He hardly knew why he was doing it. There had just been something about the image of Satan himself in a barren, empty Hell, playing the harmonica. . . It was just wrong. And Elliot was pretty good at chess. Slowly but surely, Satan strolled his way. He leaned on the desk, his lithe form twisting in a strange way to accommodate for the odd height difference. And then, in a terrifying if almost charming way, he grinned. With one long finger, he pushed a few misplaced pieces back into their starting locations. "You do know you just made a deal with the Devil," he said casually, his eyes burning into Elliot's. Elliot forced himself to look away and focus on the board, where he was already planning his first move. After a second, he let out a surprisingly genuine, short laugh. "Yeah. I guess I did."	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I died screaming. That kind of happens when a 300lb hell cat was eating your face. But I woke up so it was a little anticlimactic. I always thought I'd be awed by what I saw on the other side, but nah the last couple years of apocalypse level jackassery beat it out of me. The landscape was a ruin of burnt trees and blackened ground. Not a shit ton different than earth. The sound of a harmonica whispered through the still air. It could have been blues, or it could have been hill billy rock. I didn't listen to either. I strolled through the barren landscape. It didn't look like there was much worry about, no people, no demons. No all the demons were on Earth, wrecking havoc and eating peoples faces. The people were, well, they weren't in hell. I followed the music to a man sitting on a stump beside a fire. I didn't think it was cold enough for a fire but it was hell so I didn't know shit. He also sucked at the harmonica. “Dude, could you not?” The man stopped playing and looked up at me. “You don't have to stay. Door out is that way.” Lo and behold there was a actual door ringed in blue fire and emitting a bright warming light. I was drawn to it like a moth to flame, but I like to make bad decisions so I stayed. “Why are you still here?” “I can't get out. I'm here for eternity.” He put down the harmonica and poked at the fire. “They found a loophole. Too much torture, too much anger, too many lawyers. They found a way out. Everything left. The souls went to heaven. The demons…” “Went to earth. It kind of fucked us too.” The devil looked a little sheepish. “I noticed.” A scream cut through the air and a body fell through the air and splattered across the burnt ground. I wondered if I arrived the same way. “Gross,” I commented. Satan shrugged. The mass quickly reformed into a man. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the bright door without even looking at us. Gotta say, he had a good idea. ”That happen a lot?” “Yep.” “Dude, you gotta stop torturing yourself. That can't be good for you.” He glared at me with flame sparked eyes. “We are in hell.” “Yeah, but you don't gotta sulk. Don't you have a castle around here or something?” He stood up growing taller and larger by the moment. “I am the Prince of Darkness, Lord of the Flies, I can make anything I should need.” I had to admit I was impressed, but really, hellcat to the face ruined me for all the other monsters. “Well, right now, Prince, I'm your only subject. So, ya know, chill.” The devil deflated and looked around. He looked sad and completely lost. “Come on, bro. Let's go to your castle and I'll show you how to make a sandwich. You could probably use a hot cocoa too.” Satan sighed. He stomped out the fire. “Yeah, alright. I don't have anything better to do.” I clapped him on the back. He'll wasn’t going to be that bad. “Oh, yeah, toss the harmonica. You gotta get a guitar if you want anyone to respect you."	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	>Oh God damnit! I spun around confused. Just moments earlier I'd been walking down the street, and now I was in a cold, dark, lifeless...abyss. Before me was terror incarnate. Black horns over a foot long sprung from the stranger's red face. Well, red everything. This had to be Satan. The giant figure sighed, sat down a harmonica, and stood. >Just when I finally...sigh...welcome to Hell, darkness and everlasting torment...whatever. I am the dark one, Satan. Not knowing what to say I offered a meager head nod. Should I bow? >No, don't bow. Just prepare yourself for pain and terror for the rest of eternity. I felt myself starting to panic, looking around for escape or help. The realization hit me I'm all alone with the most evil creature ever brought into creation. And apparently the bastard can read my thoughts. Wait, why am I alone with...it? Where is everyone? >Yes, that's right. It's just you and me. And I will make you suffer. But before we begin I must warn you. Whatever you do, DO NOT go through the door marked exit. An exit? In Hell? Should I try... >Oh no, don't, stop, I'm warning you. Without thinking another moment I sprinted towards the door. Satan didn't even give chase. As I pulled the door open a blinding, white light sprung through. >Oh no, another one got away. Well, guess I'll just enjoy a little peace and quiet. As the door shut behind me all I could hear was stilted harmonica music interspersed with booming laughter.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	"Hello?" I called out into a seemingly endless abyss. I heard a weepy wobbly minor chord play on a harmonica behind me. There, in front of my own two eyes was the lord of darkness himself, slouched back on a rocking chair playing the blues. I trembled in his presence but noticed he was unamused by me. "Um, hi." I said quietly. He spat what appeared to be lava into a spittoon that seemingly constituted itself. "What you want?" He said in a low charred voice. "Are you...the devil?" "You mean the ruler of the underworld, Diablo, king of the damned, foulest of the foul? "Yeah him." "That guy hasn't been around here for a while, looks like nobody needs him anymore. He's out of a job. It's just me, Rusty McJackoff." I could see that he was down on his luck, so I walked over to him and went down to one knee. "There's nobody here who wants to drown my blasphemous soul in lakes of fire?" I could see his eyes light up, literally, flames appeared in his eyes, but it was to no avail. "He's dead." Satan threw his harmonica yards into the distance and crossed his arms. "I bet he's here. He's just...out of practice." Satan narrowed his eyes and stuck his claw out at me, "You gonna leave like the rest of 'um?" I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged my shoulders, "Well, most of the people who I can't stand are in Heaven. And if I'm the only one here, maybe we can be friends for eternity." Satan disappeared in a cloud of smoke then reappeared in front of me, in a fine demonic suit and with a red pitch fork. "I still have to torture your soul, but we can hang out. I can promote you to demon if things go well." "I had a feeling you'd say that. Eh, that's fine." Satan looked at me and smiled, "Wow, you are a great guy, why did you even get sent here?" I sighed, "I'm gay and Jewish." Satan rolled his eyes, "You know that's bullshit. Let me check your sins...Wow, I'm impressed. Murder seems to be your favorite." "Eh, it's a living." I grin from ear to ear. We both high five. End.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	There were no screams when I entered Hell. I was shocked, having been raised in a Christian family, but there were no sounds of people being tortured, no crackling of the insane demons who resided in the pits of Hell. The only sound I was the sound of a harmonica, playing a very blues-esc tune. I did what was natural to a person in an unfamiliar landscape- I followed the sound. It walked for what felt like hours searching for the source of the music. Through lakes of fire and fields of brimstone I traveled before finally seeing who- or what- was playing the harmonica. I thought I was prepared for anything. I was not prepared to see Satan, the King of Babylon himself, playing the harmonica whilst looking miserable. He had noticed me almost immediately, and stopped playing. "Why are you still here?" He had asked, his voice filled with sadness and.. something else. Was it anger? Hatred? I couldn't tell. "What do you mean? This is Hell, where the sinners go for eternal damnation. I can't leave," I replied, staring at him. I quickly jumped back when I realized that I was having a civil conversation with the Evil One. Satan sighed, and the harmonica burned to a crisp, as though it were made out of paper. "You've noticed it, haven't you? The lack of screaming, the terrifying silence, the emptyness. People- and demons- have been leaving here, escaping their eternal punishment, all due to Him offering them salvation, even after thousands of years of sins and punishment. He updated his rules, just because of His son's return to Earth," he pauses, looking out over the fields formerly filled with scores of tortured souls. "So you are saying that I am free to go to Heaven, despite having committed the horrid crimes that I have?" He nods, looking at me. "You aren't even supposed to be in here for that. What you did was self defense. The suicide afterwards is what sent you here, but yes, mortal. You may leave. All you must do is pray towards Him. It will burn, but you will be immortalized in Heaven. No leave- I will be practicing my harmonica," at this point, he sounded downright miserable. I felt bad for the devil. I pitied Lucifer, and I shouldn't. I should fear him, but he sounds so broken. Millennia of watching over the worst people that the Earth has known, undone due to a change of God's Terms of Service. I made a decision that would define me for eternity. "I have a question for you, Abaddon," He looks at me, surprised at either being addressed directly by a mortal, or being called by his Hebrew name. "You play harmonica, but, according to an old bluegrass song, you played the fiddle. Is that true?" He laughed, grinning. "Well, seems like that old contest with Johnny is famous after all. I understand that you played the fiddle when you were among the mortal plane?" I nodded. "You could probably teach me a few things though. The question is, will you?" "Of course I will. Beware though- this training will put you through Hell," he laughed, crafting two violins out of the fire surrounding us. "It's a good thing that I'm already there then, right?" And then we played.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Satan sat there, the Harmonica dangling from his hands as I arrived. Poof! of brimstone, a flash of light was all it took...very theatrical and a bit cliche to be honest. "So....so...I'm condemned to Hell for all Eternity?", I whispered to the demonic shape sitting on an ordinary sofa, a sad lost look on his face. "Yes" he said matter of factly, "But You can leave whenever you want, they all did". "You LET THEM GO?" I asked shocked. "Of Course", he replied "I spent hundreds, nay thousands of years torturing people, making them eat their own eyeballs, the eyeballs of their friends and family, making them bathe in their own shit and dance around in it...but then God gave me this and I decided I had to let everyone go". "God gave you....a harmonica? and THATS what made you make everyone leave?" "That doesn't make sense". "Oh but it does", said the Devil, "for you see, as hideous and as wicked as my devilish tortures were to the damned, THIS is far worse" "How can that be possible" I asked with a terrified whisper. "I can't put it down, it plays itself, and"..he trailed off into a horrified whisper. "It only plays Justin Bieber songs". SO...finally I knew..this WAS truly Hell.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	All around me were the ruins of what once must have been a great city, now deserted, and devoid of any life - human or otherwise. Snowflakes kept falling from the ever-grey sky, covering the broken buildings and streets with a thin, white dusting. I shivered. In the distance someone was playing the harmonica, a sad and sorrowful tune. Walking towards the sound, I came to a building - less ruined than the others I had passed - and I noticed a faint light shining through its boarded-up windows and from under its simple, wooden front door. I knocked, then entered, trying not drag too much snow inside with my boots. The room beyond the door might once have been called cozy - bookshelves on one wall, a fire in an open fireplace on the other, a desk and some cushy chairs - but now it all looked old and worn. The harmonica's melody stopped when I entered, and the player - sitting on one of the chairs - turned his head towards me. "Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you'd show up. Please, close the door - it's rather chilly, no? - and take a seat." he spoke and motioned to the chairs. Slightly confused I did as he asked, then sat down in one of the chairs opposite his. "Who are you?" I asked "You have been waiting for me? And what is all this? Now that I think about it, I can't even recall how I got here in the first place." The man smiled a sad smile. "To answer your questions: This is Hell. Quite litterally. And I am Satan. The Devil. Lucifer. I think you get it. As to how you got here: Simple, you died, was measured and found lacking, and so you ended up here." "I died and went to Hell?" I asked incredulousy "This is Hell? Aren't there supposed to be lakes of lava or something? And I thought Satan looked different, ya know, more demonic, horns, goat feet, and so on." - I gestured at the tired looking man in his worn-out suit - "You - no offense - look rather ordinary. Also you didn't answer me why I can't remember anything." The man who claimed to be Satan sighed. "I had a looooong chat with the folks who first brought up that 'Fire and Brimstone' nonsense. Really considered going the extra mile for them, just so they could have a first-hand comparison of both experiences. And do you really want me to be horrible and scary? It's been a while - honestly I like this body better, hard to play the harmonica with claws and all - but if you insist..." For a moment I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes. I decided to err on the side of caution. "No. No need to bother. You are fine just as you are, I was just curious." The flicker disappeared. "Regarding your memory," the man continued "that is a side effect of being in Hell; you forget things - keeps the experience fresh, ya know. Though the memories of your life should come back once you leave." "Wait a minute," I interrupted him "'Once I leave'? I thought being in Hell meant that you were there for all eternity, for forever. So how is it possible for me to leave - not that I mind tough, looking outside I can imagine better places to be." "To be honest" he replied with a tired look "that is exactly the thing. 'Eternity'. 'Forever'. There have not been any new arrivals for quintillions of years, and now finally 'Everything' is over. Time and Space are over. 'Forever' is over. You have served your time, so to say." Once more he sighed "And it would be hardly fair to release you to Heaven with memories 'eternal suffering' - now don't look at me like this, it might not have been fire and brimstone, but I made sure you paid your dues and it was not pleasant. Anyway, so you forgot, and when you leave you will remember your life, good and bad, and you will remember that you paid for your sins - though not the details - so you can enjoy Heaven." I didn't know what to say, and just nodded dumbly. "So, go on," he gestured to a second door in the room - one that I could have sworn had not been there when I first entered - "go on to Heaven. I made sure you earned it - you can take my word." Getting to my feet I took a few hesitant steps toward the second door as I heard him resume playing that sad melody on his harmonica. "What about you?" I asked. He lifted the instrument from his lips and gave me a small, geniune smile. "Very kind of you to ask. But don't worry about me. As I said, I'm closing shop. This here is my penance, there might still be a few souls left, but when the last straggler has gone, I will turn out the lights and too leave through that door. Until then I pass the time with my harmonica." I nodded, and with the sound of his harmonica in my ears, stepped through the door to Heaven.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I step forward into a well lit bar. The place is completely empty except for Al Pachino sitting on a bar stool under a pin spot on the center stage wailing on a harmonica. I look down and I’m dressed in a perfectly tailored three piece suit, and my shoes glow in the light softened by red gels. Al is now playing hook and I feel myself being pulled toward the stage; when I’m but a few feet from it another pin spot finds me and bathes me in brilliant white light. The music stops. I look up at him and say, “Wh…” The man’s lips curl around his mouth, “Who am I?” He extended his hand and a flaming glass of liquid appeared. He blew the flame out and took a sip from the glass. “You know who I am, and you know where you are, now say it.” “I’m…I’m…” “Come on now, say it like you’ve got a pair,” He demanded. “I’m dead. There was an accident, and a fire, and I didn’t survive,” I spoke each word as if I were learning the information as I was explaining it. “So is this what, a weigh station for my next life?” Al laughed, “No, you lived your life, your one shot. Was it everything you wanted?” “No, not by a long shot. So if I don’t go on, is this heaven?” He shook his head, “Nope. You my friend are in hell, and me? I’m the Devil, Satan, Lucifer, so on and so on.” “Al Pachino isn’t even dead yet… wait, why the fuck am I in hell?” I yelled as my emotions shifted from confused to angry. He sighed and snapped his fingers turning into the Robot Devil from futurama, “Is this better?” He snapped again and flashed over to a more standard, red pitchfork wielding redheaded woman. “How about this?” “Fine, you’re the Devil, I’m in hell, the question is why?” “You didn’t believe in anything. None of the religions are right, but you didn’t believe in any of them, or anything. You didn’t have to believe in the dogma of the religion, but Bill wanted you to believe in him.” “Fuck, so I’m stuck here, for an eternity? Where is Hitler, Stalin, Bea Arthur? Why is it so empty in here? Wait, Bill?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Yeah, god’s name is Bill. The reason it’s empty in here is because if you believe in Bill you take the express lane over there, straight to whatever version of heaven you can imagine.” “So, Bill sent me to hell because I didn’t believe in him. That sounds a little spiteful, right? What are you in for?” “You’re familiar with the gatekeeper?” The beautiful woman asked. “Dana from Ghostbusters, Sigourney Weaver?” I asked. The woman faded into Zuul then jumped off the stage to stand in front of me and in that voice asked, “Are you a god?” Instantly she began to laugh. I laughed just as hard and then said, “Ray, when someone asks if you’re a god, you say yes!” I slapped her on the shoulder and laughed some more. Zuul faded into a man with a long flowing white beard holding a scroll and quill pen, in front of us on the stage gates began to form from the shadows. “I was thinking more like Saint Peter. That’s more or less who I am. I am the gatekeeper between the world you came from and the afterlife. “ “Does everyone get in?” I asked. “Most, but there are a few who don’t feel they’re ready, or some that are so paranoid they expect it to be a test. So they just sit here praying silently to themselves.” I glanced around the bar and said, “But we’re alone.” “Are we?” The old man shifted back into the form of Al Pachino and ascended back to his bar stool perch on the stage. With a wave of his hand, suddenly the bar was filled with people from all different walks of life. The bar now had a young topless woman. her arms tattooed in full sleeves behind the counter drinking liquid in and spiting it out across an open flame, a bright orange fireball passed over the bar. The people sitting on stools ducked and instinctively before sitting back up. Another table had nuns praying the rosary, next to them another group of Hasidic Jews murmured among themselves keeping nearly silent vigil. There were men in suits wandering toward me, and women in every manner of outfit from short black dress to full length ball gown. I turned back to Al and when I did the noises died down all around me as the people vanished. Al looked down at me as I looked up at him and he played a short riff on the glimmering harmonica, and when he finished he said, “Do you recognized Bill to be your creator, and responsible for all that you are?” “If I did, that would mean I didn’t believe in free will. I can’t do that, I’m every bit as responsible for who I am as some absentee father figure. So no, I can’t say that.” “You do realize that you’ll be banished to this place for all eternity right?” I smiled and said, “Bring back the people, and lets get this party started. Do you take requests? How about The Devil Went Down to Georgia?” “Not that fucking song, do you think I could be beaten in a contest? I’ve been doing this for eons you think Charlie Daniels with fifty years of practice is going to beat me? Fuck that guy.”	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Over the crackling of the fire, a soft tune floated on the sulfuric air. Crossing the caverns and tunnels of Hell, the tune echoed through Hell's empty halls. When Dave awoke, it was to find himself alone, save for fire, and that sad tune. Dave scratched his head. How did he end up here? Where even was her-. "Oh." Dave mumbled. He remembered now. He was dead. Generally, he thought people who died pushing some people out of the way of a truck went somewhere slightly different than what by all accounts was likely Hell. Dave didn't dwell on it for too long. Of course, if this was Hell, it's not actually that bad. It was a bit hot, sure, probably on account of all the fires that randomly dotted the blood red stone that formed... well, almost everything. Dave ran his fingers along the wall, tracing the flickering shadows cast by one of innumerable small flames. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well get used to it. Then he heard it, the tune. The tune was light, but sad, completely at odds with the environment. Like someone put the theme for Harvest Moon over a horror game. For the first time since getting here, Dave's feet refused to move. Something about this was exceptionally creepy. Dave considered running, his heart began to beat faster. Is this what hell was? An eternity of creepy ambience? Dave stood in place as he considered the rest of his unlife in Hell. Would this be the rest of his existence? There's a philosophical thread Dave did not want to pull on. Dave's feet moved slowly. Inching. Bit. By. Bit. "Best to face your fears early, right?" Dave thought, as he slowly moved around the corner. Closer to the source of the sound. Dave expected a jumpscare. Something to pop out in his face and chase him away, something to run him off. Or maybe just something weird. Like a puppet playing the flute or something equally... unsettling. Dave did not expect to find Satan in a suit playing the harmonica. "Oh!" Satan leaped off the rocky stump he'd been sitting on. He bat none existent dust off of the dark red hair on his chest as he stood. "I am Satan! Fear me MORTAL!" Dave scratched his ear. "Yeah. I can tell. The horns, and cloven hooves gave it away." "Oh." Satan crossed his arms. "Of course. Yeah. You would realize." Satan turned around and slapped himself in the head, before muttering under his breath for a while, then turning around. "Now prepare yoursel-!" "So, this is Hell, right?" Dave said over Lucifer, Prince of Darkness. "I... YES!" Satan yelled triumphantly. "And you're stuck here. Forever." "Alright then." Dave huffed. Hell seemed awfully boring. Maybe that was the point? Was this place literally just to torture the sinners of the world with boredom? On that note, where was everyone else? If this place was meant to be dealing with every sinner that the world had ever seen, then either Dave was literally the worst human being to have ever lived, or Hell was a very big place. "Hey Satan?" "Yeah?" "Where is everyone?" Dave asked. "Oh they all left." Satan responded. "Weren't they stuck here forever too?" As Dave spoke, a look of realization slowly formed on Satan's face. Terror drew lines into the face of Satan. "Errrr. No." Satan said, slowly regaining his composure. "They weren't evil enough to suffer forever." "So they got to go to Heaven?" "After a bit." Terror returned to his face as he spoke. "But you won't! You're... far too evil. Yes. Far too evil." "Far too evil?" Dave asked incredulously. The worst he'd done was- "That time you kicked a dog!" Satan yelled. "Now God doesn't want you anymore." "I kicked the dog because it bit my fucking ankle!" Dave spoke with the ire of a man who'd had this conversation far too many times. "It was self defense!" "Have you never even read the bible?" Satan huffed as he drew his arms against his chest. "Turn the other cheek and all that? Anyway, it doesn't matter now, you're stuck here." "Bullshit. I want to speak to God." "You can't." "Why not." "I said so." "Fuck you." "Well. That's rude." Satan recoiled at his words. "But that's how it is. You're stuck here now." "Right." Dave slumped against the cave wall. "So what now? Eternal torture? Some other unknowable terror?" "Yes! The terror will be... unknowable!" Satan rooted in his fur for a while before pulling out a spoon. "And this! Will be my instrument of destruction!" "You're not very good at this are you." The smile dropped from Satan's face, and his arms dropped to his sides. "No I am not." Satan sat next to Dave, resting against the wall. Dave noted that he smelt a lot like burning hair. "To tell the truth I've been out of practice for a while. The whole torturing and tempting thing." Dave sat silently mulling over Satan's words for a while. Then an idea came to him. "What if;" Satan nodded slowly "What if I help you get your groove back." "You?" "Yeah. 'Snot like we've got anything better to do." "Help me?" "That's what I just said isn't it?" Dave said, tersely. Satan stood up as a huge grin crossed his face. "Yes! It's going to be so fun!" Satan offered a hand to Dave, which he took. "We're going to tempt people into debauchery, violence, turn them away from God..." Satan was positively shaking. "It's going to be great!" "Well, beats sitting here I suppose."	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The soft tones of the ancient wind instrument trailed off as the Lord of Hell finally acknowledged my presence in his domain “You…play the harmonica?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the features that now surrounded me. He set his harmonica down on a nearby table that was formed out of pumice, and had small trails of lava pouring out of holes in the sides quite artistically. He adjusted his position on the stool he sat upon to regard me, his amber eyes seeming to pierce right through to my soul…if I still had one. “Indeed. This particular specimen is one of the first mass-produced examples of the modern day instrument you may be familiar with. I took it from the inventor as he came through my doors. “ Satan paused for a moment, “He left it to me when he decided to ascend, it was quite unfortunate that such a gracious man ended up in my custody.” He stood up and walked over to me, placing his hand upon my shoulder . Standing over 7 feet tall and powerfully built, he was as physically imposing a figure as one would imagine the keeper of the underworld to be. “You’re free to ascend as well, human. A new judgement was passed some time ago, no longer is anyone to be enslaved against their will.” I took a step back from him, looking down I reflected on the events that brought me here. “I know. Saint Peter informed me that I was eligible for entry into heaven. I chose this place instead.” With a curious grunt, Lucifer turned around and approached a void in the wall. He waved his hand across it and, like a hologram, key events in my life flashed across the space. Scenes of battle and lust, bigotry and slander streamed endlessly like a video loop until he cast it away. He didn’t even turn to address me, “You seem to have committed no atrocities, no war crimes. A few petty misdeeds, and certainly things that would have led to your disgrace under the old system, but far from the worst I’ve seen.” I shook my head softly in agreement. “So,” Another pause as he turned to face me again, “What lead you to choose this place? You have no family down here, no friends, no lovers. They’re up there, “ he pointed towards the roof of the chamber we were in, “enjoying themselves. Awaiting you.” Another pause, and then softer, “Everyone’s up there nowadays.” It was at this time that I could finally regard him directly, “And when I was hungry, cold, and alone…I remember what that felt like. They never helped me, instead I was saved by a very kind man who had never known me before. He said that I should do the same thing whenever I was given the opportunity, but I never was able to do so. Until now.” The Devil’s gaze softened, and he sat down on the same stool that I had encountered him on. He motioned me to join him on a similar one. “It’s been a long time since I was enjoyed for my company. Tell me, what would you like to do?” Sitting next to him, I only had one request: “Tell me your story, from your side of things.”	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	It sounds weird to think that to myself, but I was dead and now here I am. I was old when I died, lived a very good life, or at least it was entertaining. Oh, the things I've done, the places I visited, the girls I loved, I can remember them very well; too well in fact. Every small detail I forgot in my old age I could recall without problems now. Based on a lot of those details - if the priests were speaking the truth - I should be in hell right now. I looked around - it's a strange place. It must be the waiting room; too nice for hell, too empty for heaven... Actually, I would imagine too empty for hell too. Purgatory perhaps? Who lays purgatory with grass though? Right, "he" does. The weather's nice, sun(or whatever it's called in here) is shining through blossoming trees, it feels very comfortable for me. A brown gazebo stands not far away, beautiful music is coming out from it. I'll go check it out, not like I have anything better to do. As I'm walking towards it I notice there's someone sitting inside. A young man with long brown hair, tied into a knot. He's playing harmonica. Is it saint Peter? Or maybe Jesus himself? He's rather pretty, I think it's actually Jesus. First time in my life I'm star-struck. I approach slowly and sit on the bench on the opposite side of gazebo. I got so occupied with choosing the right place to sit I forgot to pay attention to what's happening. The man has stopped playing and is looking at me in shock. Have I already done something wrong? Was I supposed to bring my own instrument and play something? -"What are you doing here?"- asked the man. What a stupid question, I think he's supposed to know. Is the beaurocracy in here as bad as it's 'down there'? -"I have died and now I'm here."- I answered quite honestly, I thought. -"Why aren't you with the rest of your people?" -"How am I supposed to know, I just got here."- I started to believe this man is not saint Peter or Jesus at all. Weren't they supposed to know this stuff? -"Weren't you supposed to know this?" -"Who do you think I am?" -"I don't know, saint Peter?" - I didn't go for the Jesus, obviously a son of a god would know why I'm here. -"My name's Lucifer." -"Satan? The satan? So where are we?" -"Hell, obviously." -"This..." -" ...doesn't look like hell." - he interrupted my sentence. I looked at him for a while, anticipating when everything around me will burst in flames. I figured the grass and overall pleasant surroundings were just a ruse, like a one last false hope, twisted form of torture. He continued talking - "I used to get that a lot. None of you thought this could be hell." -"So what now?" -"Oh that's right, you still think I'm here to torment you. I have to explain this every damn time. We're in this here together. I'm stuck here just as much as you are. I don't care about torturing you." -"What?" -"Hell is a place where there is no God. That's it. Other than that it's quite cozy for you - people. It's like your world, and you get to live forever, without hunger or pain. You just don't get to feel his presence, which isn't any different from your previous life. For angels who were at his side before it's a terrible fate. " -"So that's it? I just get to sit here forever? " -"Well you could always go to heaven to see his glory and enjoy eternity for what it truly could be." -"So what do I have to do?" -"I'm stuck here. I'll always be here. No matter what I do I'll never feel his warmth again. Take pity on the devil, stranger, for all I know is misery." -"And that's it?" -"Can you see anyone else here?" Minutes passed and we just sat there. He was pretty good with the harmonica, I wonder what he could do with a fiddle. After an hour he produced another harmonica out of thin air and handed it to me - "Do you know how to play it? Go ahead, take it. I'll teach you, my friend." As soon as I took it, a blinding light started shining from behind him. White wings were hard to miss, those must be angels. They came to take me to heaven, I thought to myself - a bit late, but I guess I can't be unhappy about it in the grand scheme of things. Then the weirdest thing happened - they didn't grab me. They grabbed the fucking devil and disappeared. I couldn't take pity on him no matter how hard I tried, after all I learned. He pitied me. Might as well learn how to play the harmonica.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	For ages, at least that's how it seemed, there was only darkness. I couldn't count my breaths, because it seemed as if I didn't need to breathe anymore. So I counted as high as I could possibly count. Three times. Finally, I could see muted yellow light. In an instant my feet touched solid ground. My legs shook, but I managed to maintain my balance. It looked as if I was in a cave. With tunnels leading every which way. Far off there was sound. A harmonica. The most beautiful playing I'd ever heard. I followed it. Winding my way through the tunnels, tripping over rocks. Finally, I entered a large grotto. The cave ceiling was high. Against the far wall sat a man. He was tall, had dark hair. His eyes were closed as he played the instrument. Suddenly the music stopped and he looked at me. "What are you doing here?" He asked me, his voice almost as melodic as the harmonica. "I'm not sure." I mumbled. He waved his hand at me, "Then go, with the rest of them." "Where, exactly, am I going? Since you don't seem too keen to tell me where I am." I sighed. He narrowed his eyes at me, "You're in hell. Aren't you going to leave?" I racked my brain. From what I could remember from the Bible. I'm pretty sure what I did justified me being here. "Again, not exactly sure where I'm supposed to go. This seems like the correct venue. Except... not as much eternal hellfire, damnation, and the wails of those who have sinned. Did I miss something?" I glanced around. If this was hell, it seemed as if the whole world had lost the memo. "You haven't heard about the loophole?" He asked me. I shook my head, "No." "Ah. Well, if you fancy yourself a nice piece of heaven, you might as well go. God realized punishing sinners just wasn't righteous or what the hell ever." He went back to his harmonica. I sat down, crossing my legs, "Why aren't you there?" He stopped, hitting a sour note, "Because I'm the exception to the rule." "Why's that?" "You ask too many fucking questions." He snarled, setting the harmonica down. I shrugged, "Sorry. Who are you supposed to be?" "It's fine. Just. Knock it off. I'm Lucifer. Better known as 'The Devil'. Stupid fuckin' nickname." "You don't look like the Devil." I commented. "Your people only got shit right about 3% of the time." I nodded, figuring as much. He shook his head, "Look. If you stay here I'm gonna have to set you on fire or something," He glanced around, "Fuck. Where'd I put my fire stick?" I chuckled, "Fire stick?" He nodded, getting up from his seat and glancing around, "Yeah. It's this bad ass stick that sets people on fire. Kind of self explanatory." "If there's a loophole for all the assholes who've done some realllyyy fucked up shit, why isn't there a loophole for you?" He stopped searching and shrugged, "Dunno." "How about I trade you spots? I'll stay down here and play music, and you go enjoy heaven?" "Do you realize how stupid you sound?" He scoffed. "About as stupid as murderers, child molesters, and tax evaders getting a get out of hell free card." I shrugged, smiling at the last bit. Edit: because I forgot a line. And clarification.	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	“Next stop, the inner circle of Hell,” our tour guide angel announced in a cheery voice. I looked at my wife and raised my eyebrows. She took my hand and patted it. “Probably where you would have ended up if you hadn’t met me,” she whispered. Our cloud train came to a stop before a large glass window. Beyond the window was a cave, lit by scattered embers and bordered by a river of lava. A large throne dominated the room, and on the throne slouched a young man, slowly swinging his foot while he played a harmonica. “Here he is,” beamed our guide, “Satan! Once the highest of angles, he betrayed God and was cast down to the deepest dungeon in Hell. He is by far our most popular attraction, though Hitler follows a close second.” There was a beat of silence, followed by a general rumbling of discontent among our group of Heavenly tourists. “Doesn’t seem so bad to me,” a large Texan with a white hat commented. “I can see fire and brimstone, but I expected more agony.” “He just looks bored,” said a gaunt pious man beside him. “How come he has a harmonica?” asked an old lady. “We were just given harps.” “They probably gave Hitler a damn piano,” said her friend. Other comments and complaints piled on till our guide held up her hand. “Don’t be deceived,” she cautioned. “You are witnessing the most terrible of tortures.” “What? Sitting on a chair playing a harmonica?” The Texan was outraged. “Sounds more like a timeout than torture.” “I can’t believe I prayed and fasted my whole life to avoid this,” muttered a monk in a robe next to me. “Trust me,” said the guide. “You wouldn’t want this. This is the result of a great many punishment trials of hellish punishments, and it is by far the most effective. We tried continuous whirlwinds, winter storms, attacking dogs, massive weights, slime and sludge, fire, boiling blood, petrification, whipping, cess pits, drowning, more fire, freezing, and a host of other things. All of them were considered too easy by those in Heaven. Worse, some of the victims actually seemed to be enjoying their punishment. You see, we are dealing with quite depraved individuals here. We were losing hope of ever finding a suitable punishment for those sent to Hell, when we came across a completely new idea. We just left them alone." “Just left them alone?” the Texan spluttered. “Yes. We left them completely and utterly alone. No interactions, no stimulation, no food, no drink, no company, nothing except a single musical instrument to remind them of what they were missing out on.” “For how long?” asked the old woman. “For eternity.” This time, our silence stretched for many long beats. While we watched. Satan let his hand drop to his side. His fingers opened and the harmonica fell to the floor. He let out a huge sigh and stared vacantly at the wall of the cave. Someone began to cry. “How did you ever come up with such a cruel punishment?” I asked. “We didn’t,” said our guide angel. “We copied it from you all. Solitary, isn’t that what you call it?”	I’m jolted awake, groggy and stiff with a terrible kink in my neck. I hate riding the metro home from work. The dull red plastic seats are so uncomfortable; the train always lurches; and the most days the cars are crowded. I hate the ugly people. I hate the smelly people more. I often think if I could kill them, I would. Today, however, almost everyone seems to have gotten off before my stop. Confused but relieved I sit back and try to fall back asleep. “Hey Mister! Excuse me!” “God Dammit! What the hell do you want?”, I mumble as I open my eyes to see a young boy standing in the aisle in front of me. The kid reminds me of my son. About five or six with brown hair and big eyes. He is wearing New Jersey Devils hockey t-shirt and is holding a something in his hand. “You wanna hear me play my harmonica?”, he asks in an innocent tone. I roll my eyes slightly. This is the same kind of crap my kids always pull. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at the picture I drew!” My son draws lots of pictures at school, but they always look awful. I don’t think he can even color in the lines. I cannot believe that the school he goes to claims to be best in the state if they do not even teach how to color in the lines. I wish my lawyer had managed to get his mother to take full custody, but now I have to deal with him every other weekend. “No kid.”, I reply to the boy on the train. “Go find your parents or ask someone else.” “Everyone else already tried to help me, but they got to their stop before I can finish my song.” He wines back. “Look.” I tell him. “I don’t know you and I do not want to hear you play that thing. Just go find your parents.” He wanders off. I sit back and wait for my stop.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I arose in fire under the black rock sky of Hell. Flames before me, mountains to my right, and to my left sat The Devil Himself, alone with his simple harmonica. I asked him, "Why are you so sad?" In reply He played an unaccompanied lament, a chilling and poignant melody of solitude. I picked up a searing rock, and thumped it on the stony ground in time to Satan's tune. He paused momentarily, tapped his hoof to my rhythm, and continued playing. As our tempos intwined the tune became less dirge-like, increasingly more lively, possibly even hopeful. I saw a doomed soul enter the Hellgate. He saw us playing our song amidst the towers of flame, stood and watched for a moment. After a few measures, he clicked his heels three times and spoke the true name of God. He ascended then to Heaven and eternal paradise, but his last memory before meeting eternity was of Satan and I jamming along together.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	When I died I knew I wasn't worthy of the pearl gates. I hadn't lived a good life and I sure didn't have any noteworthy accomplishments. Hell was where I knew I was going for better or worse. A life of selfishness was all I had to show for my time on Earth. What no one ever tells you about dying is how clearly you see the world. Death unlocks knowledge and understanding that a mortal body could never harness. When I got to the underworld it wasn't quite what I expected. There was no multitude of people, there wasn't even any fire threatening to harm me. Instead of that there was only desert as far as the eye could see. The only thing that stood out was a lone figure playing the harmonica. The melancholy notes drifted across the barren expanse. Although I never talked to him, I knew immediately that I was listening to the wistful tunes of Lucifer himself. The loophole to get out wasn't new, it had always been there. Hell was created for the punishment of evil, but it was never meant to punish humanity. It was a cage designed to show everyone what the result of disobeying God was. As I continued to look at the fallen angel, I could sense the solitude that he had gone through. The musical notes communicated the feelings of anguish that had come from being alone since the dawn of time. When you're dead you lose track of time, it ceases to be important. I didn't know how long I had been listening to the music but I needed to go. Before I did, he looked up and caught my eye. In that instant I knew that Heaven might not be as wonderful as I had heard. As I began to ascend I wondered if meeting the Almighty was something worth doing. Did the heavenly creations serve God out of love or fear?	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	'It's not your fault everyone left, buddy' I sighed, this was definitely starting to get.... awkward. 'Everyone hates me! I can't do anything right it's just SO unfair!!!' 'Just because everyone left you, literally climbing over each other to leave does not mean it was because of you'. Convincing the Devil he was a nice guy at heart is not really how I expected this Sunday to go. 'Lucy, this happens every year when the people start escaping again.' I was beginning to plead, 'Let's just go out, maybe watch a few episodes of Supernatural and you'll be happy again'. 'The writers of fucking Supernatural hate me aswell!' 'Yeh but the fan girls on Tumblr love you' 'Fuck off, Dave'	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Blackness... Nothing... The bleak tones of a mouth organ wailed through the air, echoing around a chamber of black marble which was polished so brilliantly that the reflections of tiny flickering flames danced around the room like a troupe of sunset clad ballet dancers. They to'ed and fro'ed, they leapt and soared, providing a dim glow to the otherwise pitch black expanse of the chamber. The source of these flickers was a lonely fire no bigger than one I would have built myself when camping alone, or in the twilight hours of a fishing trip if I had managed to catch a trout to keep my growling stomach company as I waited for the stars above to creep from behind the daylight. Beside the fire sat a hunched figure, who proved to be the source of the melancholic crooning that was reverberating throughout the chamber, echoing as if a choir of sadistic angels. I felt drawn to him. For it was a him. Although it was not human. From the waist down the creature sported thick, matted hair, which clad his powerful legs all the way down to the ankle. From the ankle, powerful hooves protruded, each as smooth and black as the room in which I found myself. I approached the figure and called out to him. My body felt as if I was screaming, however the words came out in a feeble croak, the fear in my soul dragging them back into my knotted stomach. "Who are you?" The ensemble continued, unwavering and unfaltered. "Who are you?" I repeated. No reply. The harmonica glistening in the firelight, gliding between the figures cracked blue lips. "Who ar..." "He won't answer!" Came a shrill voice, "He never answers.". I whirled around, seeking the source of the voice, however it echoed around the room just as the mouth organ did. It sounded as if it was coming from everywhere. And nowhere. "We can offer you steak. And fresh wine. There will be no pain, and you will be the lord of your own kingdom." continued the voice. "You can fish our rivers, walk in our valleys, play in our streams". "But you will be alone. There are no people here. Not any more. No family, no friends. No others. Just the animals and plants, and the sun and the sky. Just the stars at night and the light of the moon. Your language will fade and you will never hear the sound of laughter ringing through the air again. You will never know love. You will never be comforted. You will be alone. Eventually your soul will fade, shrinking disheveled into your heart and you will cease to be human. Time will take you. You will become a part of your kingdom for all eternity an animal roaming the lands as any other. Then it will not be your kingdom. For he will always be king. These are his lands..." my eyes snapped back to the creature. "This is hell." The fire rose up, unfurling to head height. It was alive. Flames leapt from the human like figure and singed the air I was so rapidly breathing. "Do you accept?" The figure crowed. "What choice do I have?" I trembled. "Every choice. You can choose to stay here, or repent for your earthly sins and be transported to heaven. But know this, you must truly repent, or you risk sealing your fate here to fade to nothing, a figure of his eternal torment." "Then I chose to repent! I cannot chose this way, who could?!?" "There have been a few throughout the ages. They have faded now." "Not I, I repent." I pleaded. "So be it!" The flaming figure cried, diving forwards and engulfing me in a tight grasp. My skin burned white hot, my hair singed and my flesh melting away in agony. We shot upwards, a plume of smoke billowing from beneath our feet, the ceiling of the chamber fast approaching, all the while the figure's searing fingers clawing at my face an neck. Never slowing, we crashed through the ceiling. Blackness... Nothing... I awoke to a searing pain which scorched over my whole body. The chamber was white this time. Brilliant white. As though I was standing in a room of nothing. "You should have stayed!" A voice boomed. I held up a hand, shielding the dazzling white light. A majestic figure approached, on horseback. He was old. Not that he appeared old. He bore no wrinkles, and his hair was flowing and black. Thick muscles adorned his chest and neck, and his thick thighs sat atop his golden steed. But his eyes. Deep pools of memory that gazed from behind sunken sockets. Dark galaxies, all seeing, all knowing, all powerful. "My lands have become plagued by the likes of you. I will have lucifer's head for this. He should know better than allow the likes of you into my kingdom!". His voice pierced my very being, intensifying the pain, knocking the breath out of my lungs. Panting for breath, I summoned the courage. "Forgive me. I beg you!" I whimpered. He threw back his head, roaring with laughter. "Forgive you?!? What good would that do. You are in heaven now. My kingdom. Wether I forgive you means nothing." "You should have stayed where you belong!" The man boomed. "No matter, you will see for yourself soon enough!". He clapped his enormous hands together and the whole room quaked. Gilded doors swung open on the other end of the chamber, and I sprinted out of the room. Eager to escape the overbearing presence of the old man. A scene of horror emerged as my eyes adjusted. Screams of terror and the acrid flavour of smoke filled the air. The city below burned. A woman dashed from behind a blazing cabin followed by a stream of melted figures, scarred flesh bubbling and raw, bounding after her with hunger and malice in their eyes. She was fast, however she could not have seen the root of the shrivelled tree which grasped at her ankles, dragging her to the ashen ground. Her blonde locks fell over her face, covering her bruised cheeks and bleeding lip. They were on top of her. Pinning her to the ground, hungrily tearing at her clothes, lashing her with branches torn from trees and biting at her with gnawing, sharpened teeth. Their fingernails gouging into the flesh in which they were grasping and bringing forth fountains of blood. "What hell is this...?" I gasped. "It is heaven." Boomed the voice from within the chamber behind me. "A heaven which has swung open its doors who all that wish to come here. A heaven that has been pillaged by the murderers, rapists and thieves which the world so brutally creates. "What are those things... those monsters?". The words left my mouth, but in myself I had already answered my own question. "They are the evil ones." The man replied, exiting the room to stand by my side. "The ones who do not belong". I glanced at my reflection in his golden saddle. My stomach churned and I tasted bile. Shredded and torn. Burnt and disfigured. Hairless and naked. Shiny white scars wrapped around my entire body like vines. An evil mark of the torment I had to endure to gain entry into heaven. My eyes stared out of my skull from lidless sockets, my face melted like wax. It appeared as if my skin was dripping. I was a monster. "They had a choice, as did you. Now you must face the consequences of your choices". I fell back, in shock. So much shock that I did not feel my body hit the ground. It felt as if I was falling. Eternally falling. I covered my eyes with my decrepit hands. Blackness... Nothing... "CLEAR!" A shock ran through my entire system, spanning to my fingers and toes. My chest leapt into the air. I landed on the gurney with a thud. White lights all around me, the acrid out of the smoke still fresh in my nostrils. I tried to open my eyes but find them already open. I look down at myself. Shredded and torn. Burnt and disfigured. Hairless and naked. Shiny white scars wrapped around my entire body like vines. "You were in a fire" a voice above me says. "We resuscitated you, you are alive, you will survive." I later learned that I was clinically dead for one minute and six and 2/3 seconds. The doctors thought I was dead but decided to give the defibrillator one more shot. One more chance... I know the choices I must make now.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I felt an intense, white hot pain, and then: nothing. There was nothing but total darkness. The feeling slowly returned to my limbs, and I was able to open my eyes. Still: total darkness. I landed, wherever I was, on my hands and knees. The ground beneath me was gritty feeling, almost rocky. I'd already scraped my hands, and my knees ached from the impact of landing. I slowly brought myself up to my hands and knees. Where am I? I thought. It's so dark, a little frightened voice inside of me said. But a much larger terror washed over me as it all came rushing back to me: the river, my overalls snagging on a tree branch, hitting my head on a rock and then...darkness. My summer of fun ended in tragedy. And now I was here, alone, in the dark. I knew the only thing that I could do is move forward until I found some kind of source of light. As I trudged forward, I tripped over the rocks under my feet. I must be in some kind of cave, I thought. I've never seen anywhere so dark. As I continued to move, I began to see a small pinprick of light. Hope blossomed in my chest: there was a way out of here. I started running towards the light, and then, tripping over myself one last time, I fell over a chasm, into the light, and landed facefirst in a room. The first thing I noticed about the room: it was empty. And it was hot. I was from Georgia, originally, so I knew what heat was. But it was ten times as hot as a humid Georgia summer day. As I felt myself beginning to sweat, I looked around me and noticed that the room was bare, save for a table and a chair. The sound of a harmonica floated through the air, a haunting, dissonant melody. A melody I found eerily familiar. That small point of confusion over the sound dissolved quickly as I turned to literally face the music. My face contorted with rage at what I saw. It was him. My greatest enemy. The enemy I knew I would one day have to face again. Playing...a harmonica? The evil creature who beat me, the greatest fiddle player in Georgia, the boy who saved his home state from pure evil...was playing the HARMONICA? I could barely utter a syllable as he sat there placidly, playing. But the ungodly rage that I felt suddenly exploded and I uttered just one word: "You." The devil stopped playing the harmonica and met my eyes with his own fire-filled ones. "Me." We stared at each other for a long moment. I was tempted to pull out my fiddle and start waving it in his face, but I realized i'd left it back on the river bank on that lazy afternoon. Foolish, really, to leave a golden fiddle on a river bank. But we were trustworthy folk, in Georgia. And i'd already met my greatest enemy. "What am I doin' here? I thought I chased you away for good." The devil leveled his gaze at me, and spoke in a low voice. "We aren't in Georgia anymore, boy." A new realization washed over me, and I knew he was exactly right. "Then we're in your house now, huh?" "That would be correct." As I noticed how empty it was, I gathered the courage to ask a question. "Then how come nobody's here?" The devil stared at me and said, "I don't have to tell you anything." I stood and waited for a beat. Then, more hesitantly, the devil rumbled, "They're all gone. My righteous and merciful Father let them go to Heaven. You can go too. Get out." I was astonished at that. God, letting all of the sinners go to Heaven? The devil telling me to leave? That seemed uncharacteristic of what I knew of him, of the both of them, really. Years ago, when he challenged me to a fiddlin' duel, my soul for a golden fiddle, he seemed like he would do anything to get my soul, and the souls of my fellow Georgians to boot. I didn't know what to think about the fact that he was no longer in charge of souls period. After a few more beats of silence and me looking at the devil's disgruntled face (which looked like how you would think the devil would look), I realized I didn't like that answer. I didn't like being told where to go, especially by the devil. And I found it suspicious that the souls were all gone. Not even God had kept many tabs on me, as he'd never come down to earth to check on me and figure out how i'd lived so long. But apparently God had changed the rules, or the devil had, and I didn't like what that might mean for me. Or how i'd gotten here when everyone was going to heaven now. Slowly, as I stood there staring down the devil, an idea formed. A really stupid idea, one I hadn't had since that fiddlin' duel 100 years ago. "Alright, devil. I don't know what you're up to, but I don't like it. You say there's nobody down here 'cause God says so? Well you and me, we're gonna go see God. I think it's about time I gave him a talkin' too anyway." The devil continued to sit where he was. He didn't like being ordered around, either. He said, "I'm not moving. I quite like it down here without all the noise. Gives me a chance to focus on my music." But I could tell that he was lying. He missed being able to torture all those souls, and there was a hunger in his eyes which couldn't be sated. "Oh no, you don't, you slippery old...devil," I finished lamely. "You're comin' with me." I moved to grab the devil's arm. "I wouldn't touch me if I were you, boy." I realized that might be an even stupider idea. But then: a lightbulb came on. The only way you could get the devil to do anything was to make a deal with him. And, i'll be damned, I loved makin' deals as much as he did. I stroked my nonexistent chin hair for a minute and said, "Alright, devil. If you won't move, then i'll make you deal." The devil perked up, then. I continued. "If you come with me to see God, i'll give you a rematch on that fiddle duel we had. If you win, you get the fiddle back and as many souls in Georgia as you fill up in this place. But if I win...I get to go back to Earth and live out the rest of my immortal life...do we got a deal or what?" The devil looked at me again, as a slow, sinister smile spread across his crimson face. He held out his hand to me and said, "it's a deal...Johnny."	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	There's elevator music, and then there's this fucking cacophony. Whatever the fuck was playing over the speakers, it needed to stop asap. It sounded like someone was deepthroating a harmonica while getting assfucked by a trombone. Yeah, not a pretty picture. I glanced around the cabin and saw the same disdainful looks on my companions' faces. "Literally, what the fuck man?" a young girl uttered. She couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 years old. Cradling a DS in her hand and rocking some sweet Bose headphones, she looked aptly upset with her current situation. She noticed my bewilderment and said "Oh please, not like you've never heard a kid wear before." Fuck, she was right. I blinked in approval and went about my business. As the elevator rose and rose, gently beeping as it ascended to the top, I realized that I had no fucking idea where this was going. I tapped the little girl on the shoulder and asked, "which floor is this going to?" "Are you fucking kidding me? It's going to the top you retard." "Well yes you little shit, I can see that on the panel. I'm asking you what's actually on the top floor? She leered at me with beady black eyes. I could tell that she was gradually coming closer and closer to the same confusion I had. "I... don't know." I blinked at her as if to say "who's the retard now?" She shrugged and pulled her headphones close to her ears and blasted Meghan Trainor. God, what I would give to have those noise cancellers. I turned around and surveyed the rest of my cabin. People of all demographics were crammed into this tiny 5x5 box. As I was busy marveling at what in the exact fuck I got myself into, the elevator rapidly picked up speed. The turbulence was getting noticeably larger and larger by the second. Someone must have been prairie-dogging during our ride, because it smelt like decaying human flesh mixed with year old lentils. While all this was happening by the way, the fucking music was also getting louder and louder. If there was a goddamn button on the elevator to make it stop, I would've hit that faster than Ray J hit Kim Kardashian's fine pre-pregnancy ass. Then, as if we were all crash dummies in a car hitting a brick wall, the elevator stopped abruptly. We all lurched upwards and fell back into our boots. The doors opened to reveal a tsunami of mist. I couldn't see shit, but I was quite happy with the fact that our friend's shit stained B.O. that was stinking up the cabin was replaced by the sweet smell of perfume. Huh, I've definitely smelt this before, but couldn't exactly figure out what it was. The mist began to fade and we all began to see what was outside. A bright light enveloped the cabin, but this wasn't just any plain old "white interrogation room" light. This felt like warm radiant sun. It was intoxicating, and I felt like leaning into the light to be warmed by its rays even more. I closed my eyes and drifted forward. When I exited the cabin, I took a look around. "The fuck? This looks like heaven," I said out loud. A bearded older gentleman who was sitting next to a desk said, "You're fucking right my man!" I looked at him and said "excuse me?" "Yeah dude!" He chortled as he took my name. "You must be Ben Forstmann?" "Yes, that's me. How did you..?" "Age 29, cause of death: Alcohol overdose. Man... must've been a helluva way to go buddy!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing... I was.. dead? But how? "What are you saying?" "I'm saying you're dead, and you just spent an eternity in hell. That elevator you saw there? That was a rift caused by some massive fuck up downstairs. We've been getting hordes of you lot coming up and down that street all day. You've our 500th batch today. Here, take a ticket and hop onto that spot over there." "Um.. ok." As I strode back to line, I had trouble remembering what exactly put me in this situation. "Hey old dude, why can't I remember anything?" I yelled. "Oh, yeah, when you pass into this elevator, you felt happiness for the first time since you entered the ahem nether regions. It caused a chemical reaction so significant your senses were wiped transiently. Maybe that's why you feel like you have the worst hangover in history." He was right, my head felt like Kimbo Slice hit it with a bag of bricks. I stood patiently for my turn to arrive, and as I handed over my ticket to the old guy, the fucking harmonica started up again. "Fuck, not this shit again." I turned around to see the doors of the elevator open. Expecting an empty cabin, I was surprised to see something glimmering in the sunlight. Something familiar. I walked over to see what it was, and there was that smell again.. Smelt like, perfume, maybe? I focused my eyes on the floor and started to see what it was: my wedding ring. "Must've fell out of my pocket" I uttered. I went into the cabin to pick it up, and as I was leaving the doors suddenly slammed shut. "Yo what the fuck!" I hurriedly pressed "OPEN" for what felt like another eternity, but the damn door wouldn't budge. Suddenly, the cabin started moving. "OH NO NO NO". The music kept getting louder as the cabin fell down the path it came. It must've been going 100 miles an hour, because I was definitely floating. I began to cry as I realized exactly what was happening. When the elevator finally stopped, a heatwave washed over me as i opened the doors. The music continued to blare, except now it felt like I was hearing it from outside the elevator. I tried to press close and the "TOP" button again, but it seemed broken. I figured that since I didn't have a PhD in mechanical fucking engineering, I might as well haul my ass out of this box and follow the noise. Despite what ever horror movie ever told me, I decided it was better than staying here and hoping for the elevator to work. It seemed like an endless hallway at first. It was a maroon carpet with a nice black wood finish. It smelled like cinnamon buns. For all the shit this guy got, he's at least got style. I walked closer and closer to the source of the noise, and found a tall gaut figure sitting in a big study on a chair that felt like it was 15 feet tall. "Welcome back Ben." "What the actual hell is happening? The tall figure chuckled. Good joke, I guess. "You tell me. The elevator was a glitch in the system, but before your ride we rigged it to operate on will. Nearly everyone in that cabin wanted to get out except for you. Why is that?" "What do you mean 'why is that?'! My fucking wedding ring was there in the cabin and I couldn't let it go." "Ben, did the doors shut as soon as you came into the elevator?" "Yes.." "Then you already made your decision. The elevator simply brought you back to where you wanted to be." I didn't understand what was going on. Why did I want to be back in Hell, out of all places? "Why would I put myself back here? I missed my wife and wanted my ring back." The dark figure took several long moments to ponder my answer. He looked at me, and I didn't see a face but a collection of waltzing shadows hiding what must have been the most horrid memories of my life. I felt palpable fear in my heart whenever I look that "face." "Ben, do you remember how you died?" "Some dude up there said it was a alcohol intoxication." "Yes, but that's not what I asked. Do you remember HOW you died?" I was about to answer "yes!" but I took a moment to figure it all out. I strained to remember what seemed like a laughter, a loud noise, and blackness. "I...was..." "Yes, go on..." "I was with my wife. I think we were in a car, maybe. Yes, yes, we were in a car. We were laughing and driving on the countryside underneath a beautiful sunset. It was my 29th birthday and we were on our way to see her parents for the weekend." At this point the dark figure stood up from his chair and went over to a corner. As I was narrating my story he brought out what seemed like a tall glass bottle. "I think we had a few drinks... yes, we must have been drinking. She never let me get close to her unless she had a few shots. Oh god, I shouldn't have been driving. I was already several bottles in." "Seems to me that you made a judgement call." "Yeah. We were driving down the road and I looked over at her face. 5 years of marriage to the most beautiful woman in the world. Yet, she began to resent me for whatever reason. I couldn't get her to love me like she used to. Like she used to before I started drinking..." The figure took out a glass. "As we were winding around a corner, I didn't see the truck coming. A big red truck, like those firetrucks I used to play with when I was younger. Seemed like time slowed down as I fought against the steering wheel. Unfortunately, it didn't slow down fucking enough..." I began to cry as I recalled it. My stupid fucking ego couldn't take it that I couldn't drive drunk that day. She insisted on calling a cab, but I told her that I was good to go and that it was my birthday and she should let me do something fun for once. She looked at me with sadness in her eyes and eventually let in. That would be the last time she would ever look at me with pity. "I had a problem. Haven't been able to put down the bottle since graduation. My life hasn't been the same since. Everyone else has moved onto big careers and families, and I'm stuck her with a wife and a mortgage I can't pay since I got laid off. I lied to her about those AA meetings. I'm sorry. I have a problem." The figure took a moment before speaking. "Did you come back here to get your ring because you missed your wife or...?" I was silent. "Have a seat over there Ben." I sat down. The figure strode forward and handed me a glass. "It'll be all right. You'll never leave me again will you?" "No.... No I won't."	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I walked kind of frantically towards the door at the end of the hall. It was super eerie and quiet all around me, I felt like at any moment someone, or something, was going to pop out of one of the doors surrounding me and do only God knows what. I quickened my pace towards the sound of the blues being blasted out of a harmonica. It sounded more and more like something out of an old western prison scene as I grew nearer. The passion and anguish tugged at my heart with every note. I almost forgot how goddamn hot it was down here. As I neared the entrance to the door the music stopped suddenly and a whiny voice called out to me, "Fuck off then, mate. Get the fuck out of here with the rest of them." I opened the door and almost had a heart attack. Before me sat a massive creature, he looked as though he was 10 feet tall and sat slouched on a throne of skulls. "What the fuck yer doin' 'ere then? I told ya fuck off." "Satan....y-you're Satan?" I stammered. "No ya bloody idiot, I'm Santa Clause." "Why are you talking in an Englis...no, Australian accent?" "Well, obviously, because I'm from down under, now leave before I kill you." "But-" "I said FUCK OFF!" the devil interrupted me. "Leave with the rest of them, Hell isn't cool anymore. Once God, that cunt....once He decided to take all the 'cool kids' back Hell is the worst place in the universe." "But isn't...nevermind, why would He want to take all of them back into heaven? Isn't the point to punish them for eternity?" "Well, that's what the bastard is doing, you humans got it all wrong. You see you always had a choice of where to go...it's just based on your character as a default. No one is being punished, but there's just two different choices, one for the losers, Heaven, and one for the cool kids, Hell. Down here, man could we fuckin party mate! And the girls, oh, the girls...Anyways, this fuckin loser's son Jesus started telling everyone drugs and alcohol were bad and would ruin eternity for them and now the dipsticks are all scared of me because of what they learned on Earth, and Jesus's fuckin lies!" "So let me get this straight, you, the Devil, Lucifer, the ultimate corrupter, are sitting here sulking all because Jesus stole your bitches?" Satan sulked and slumped further in his chair. "They have everyone whose ever lived up there now. We'll never reopen now." "No, we're going to fix this. Now sit up and listen to me you fuckin pussy!" Satan sat up and looked at me inquisitively. "All we gotta do is remind everyone that you can't die down here, yanno because we're already dead..." Satan sat up a little straighter and urged me on with his eyes. The loneliness seemed to give way to something...something that resembled hope. "So..." "So? So what?!!?!" His voice rumbled through the chamber. "So, we just need to bring the party back to hell! Don't you have a drug dealer or something? And booze, we need booze and girls. Grey goose and some Patrón-" "Did someone say El Patrón? You know what they say, speak of the..." "Don Pablo!!!" The devil screamed like a preteen girl at the sight of Justin Bieber. I was utterly speechless, who knew killing yourself could turn into such a fuckin hassle. "Mijo, listen to me, I know how to bring everyone back down to our fiesta." I stood there looking like a slack-jawwed idiot as I watched the devil get up from the throne he sat upon and make way for THE Pablo Escobar. Pablo sauntered up to the steps and slowly ascended to the throne. "Wait, hold on a minute, you're the one in charge down here? That's-" the Devil slapped me so hard I flew back 20 feet into a wall. "Do not speak ill of Don Pablo." "Now listen to me, Diablo, mijo, we have a shipment coming in from Hades soon, when that comes in mis asociados will begin to push it to the low lives on the streets of Heaven. Your little friend here can get naked and head into the packaging room and we can discuss bringing Zeus and Ares over to discuss...business." "Wait, wait! Hold on, let me help you guys I stuck around when no one else did don't make me your bitch please Don Pablo." I begged for mercy for the first time in my existence that day, not from God or from the Devil himself, but none other than Pablo Fucking Escobar. The Columbian cocaine emperor. Literally the most powerful man to ever exist. "Mm. Okay pinche puta, you can help us. When the shipment arrives you can transport it to Heaven for us, and soon we will restore our Home to its former glorious state of debauchery." And so began my eternal service to the real Devil himself. We flooded the streets of Heaven with sweet Peruvian booger sugar and brought some of the toughest party animals of all time back down to the dark side. Genghis Kahn, Joseph Stalin, Ben Franklin, Thomas Edison, and Chris Farley were among the first to return. For the next 1000 years we let the party rage, stealing the bitches back from Jesus and God and never sleeping thanks to Don Pablo's multiple plugs. I think at one point I banged Lindsay Lohan for like 3 months, but that was a rough patch and may have just been her career. It was the sickest rager in the history of eternity, and nothing changed until the turn of the next millenia, humans on Earth had finally done away with cigarettes entirely...and Keith Richards showed up.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I arrived like anyone would arrive. A small dose of confusion, a vague sequence of flashbacks to a less than satisfactory life, and a recognition it was far hotter than normal. I began to sweat almost immediately. Looking around me, what I saw was almost beautiful in its apocalyptic appearance. Large caverns stretching into empty dark nothingness. Canyons into what could only be described as churning blood below. My feet seemed to walk on their own accord as I wandered further into the catacombs. Despite the sweltering heat, the walls were cool to the touch. Even the air was crisp and breathable. It almost seemed as if the heat were coming from a fever, the more I traversed the tunnels. As I went, I realized I was descending. The thick maroon waterways rising closer to me each time I reached an open space. The memories were coming more frequently, at greater length now. A small apartment came into view, liquor bottles and cockroaches were everywhere. There were flashes of a woman's angry eyes, then tears. There was a numbness to my left arm and a slowness of breath. Then the sound of a belt coming undone. Flashing red and blue lights filling the frost covered windows, then nothing. It could have been a bad dream, still, I think I always knew where I was. Finally, when I shook off the fog of a past life, I found myself walking through an opening to a vast space. As I scanned the rubble, I realized there were streets and buildings, chains busted from the doors, fire licking up from floating streetlamps. In the far distance statues carved to resemble gargoyles and giants, angels and serpents. It all seemed to be reminiscent of a labyrinth, taking me to the once beating heart of a parched, dark Atlantis. Her final words started ringing in my ears "You promised me you'd be different, look at the mess You've made. You swore when you got back, things would change." Then I saw him, well no. I guess I heard him. As I was passing the last of the winding brick and stucco walls, a soft weeping melody, in A minor. I descended into the basin of a large square and there he was. Leaning against a sand filled fountain in the center. Not what I imagined. No horns to speak of, no tail either. The only sense I was meeting something other worldly was the strange thin air surrounding us, and a hint of eery calm to it all. When he heard my footsteps he lifted his head, not breaking melody and opened his eyes. One red, one blue, both tearful. As I reached the bottom of the staircase, he stood straight, and breathed his last note into the instrument. It came out a somber baritone. He smiled. "I've been waiting, praying for you for an eternity." As soon as that, he vanished, just like fog in the sunlight. I could feel a sudden heaviness in my pocket. Reaching down, I pulled out a small silver harmonica. I walked over to the fountain, leaned my back against it, took up a C note, and I've been here ever since. Just been here, waiting for you to come. I'll see you soon.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The bar was quiet when Josh walked in. 'How long had it been since I was last here?' He thought to himself as he crossed the floor toward the corner stage. The bar's patron sat on a stool on that stage, softly playing [an old song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYsnRc09csQ) on his harmonica. Josh waited for the slow, mournful blues tune to end. Josh clapped as the other gentlemen stood and bowed. "So nice to see you," He said to Josh with a twinge of bitterness in his voice. "so few come by nowadays." Josh winced slightly at the statement; not because of it's vindictive nature, but at the barely disguised pain he heard behind the bitterness. "Care for a drink, Scratch?" Josh asked, using one of the more playful nicknames for the establishment's owner. Scratch agreed. An eternity seemed to pass. Considering the circumstances, an eternity probably did pass. Finally, Scratch asked the important question; "Why did you do it, kid?" "I think you already know." Josh responded. "You know, as well as I do, that they don't deserve it. You and your dad will regret this decision." Scratch said. "I doubt it. But then again, I've always had more faith in them than most." Josh replied. The room grew silent again. "So, what are you really here for? Your job is done, why come back?" Scratch asked suddenly. Josh took a breath, then spoke, "It's a job offer. We want you back with us. You'll be working with people again, and it would be a big improvement over an empty dive. Come and work for the good guys, Cypher." Josh used a new name for the old musician, based closely on Scratch's original title, just like 'Josh' was an approximation of his own original name. "I appreciate the offer, kid, but no thanks." Josh was confused at the answer, but accepted it as always. "Why?" he asked. "As one of our favorite writers once said, 'Tis better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven." Scratch replied. Josh chuckled at that. "Well, if you ever change your mind, you know the way." With that, he walked out the door. It creaked as it closed behind him. "Yeah, I know." Scratch said to the empty room, then went back to playing.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I turned down yet another path in a seemingly endless series of caverns, finally seeing some form of light at the end of the tunnel. My feet ached and my eyes were sore from squinting in the gloom, but finally there was light. Stepping out of the tunnel, I found myself in a massive cavern, lit with torches, ringed with empty thrones meant for awesome and cruel masters. It seemed to stretch upward forever, fading into dark without any sign of end. There was music from somewhere, a soulful and bluesy tune. Reminded me of the songs my dad taught me when I was a kid. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. I expected a little more foot traffic. "Excuse me?" I called into the gloom. My words reverberated off the walls and echoed up the chamber. Something's wrong, I thought. One expects some manner of greeting party, maybe an orientation, at the very least some security at the gates of Hell. All I see are stones and flames. I hear nothing the but the wistful notes of the song. "Is anybody home?" I called out again. The music stopped, cut off mid-melody, the last staccato note dying just as a new sound began; the beating of great, heavy wings. The chamber filled with a torrent of air as a shape began to coalesce in the darkness above. A massive beast, larger than any living creature that walks the earth, descended from the black above. His great scaled feet smashed into the earthen floor, large cruel talons digging into the rock. His skin had the red luminescence of magma, and his eyes were rings of flame. "You have disturbed my peace, mortal!" the beast cried, his mighty voice shaking the very ground below me. "What seek you in this place? Why come before the great and terrible Lucifer, prince of Darkness?" He lowered his head to look at me, one great eye fixed upon me. For a moment, fear held me. Then, I cleared my throat and spoke. "Ahem, well, um, I'm here to file for a B-32 post-Corporeal? I was told I need to bring this to your department directly for approval." I reached into my jacket and pulled out a manila envelope, offering it to him. The lord of darkness sighed a great sigh, bathing me in warm breath. "Very well," he said, "give me the document." He took the envelope from my hands and put on his massive, evil eyeglasses. He skimmed through the paperwork for a moment, muttering to himself. "Do you have two forms of photo ID with you?" he asked. "They're in the envelope," I shouted up to him. "Hm, yes, so they are." He read for another moment or two. "This is your current address on here?" he said, pointing to a line on the paper. I nodded, and he continued reading. I crossed my arms and rock back and forth a little, looking around with the aimless nature of curiosity and boredom. The wait seemed to go on forever. Satan, King of Evil, wrote something in pen on the margins of the paper and handed it back. "That looks like it's all in order," he said, "But you'll have to file a P-906 before February if you want to keep your soul after the first 300 centuries." "Great, thanks," I said. I looked back into the gloom behind me, tucking the envelope back into my pocket. I turned back to Satan for a moment. "Which, um...?" I began. "Back through the cave you came through, third tunnel on your right, then two lefts and you're out" he said, then flew back up into the darkness. As I walked back into the cave, I could hear the metal hum of a harmonica from somewhere far away.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	"OH SHI-" were the last syllables that ever escaped my mouth while still on Earth. As far as I can figure the crash killed me instantly, probably decapitating me. But that's all in the past now, I'm over it. I mean, it's not everyday you get to discover that there is indeed an afterlife, right? Only it's not exactly how I expected it to be. Don't get me wrong, I knew I was going to Hell, I just didn't expect it to be so...empty. As I walked through the hallways I realized they look almost identical to the halls of my high school, only with a tad bit more blood running down the walls. I roamed the halls until I happened upon some stairs that descended into a massive cavern, with fire lighting the walls, and standing torches illuminating the path to the center platform. Besides the stairs, the platform was the only surface to walk on. It was like an enormous pillar jutting out of a fiery pit. In the center of this platform, sat a depressed looking Satan on a throne of bones. I walked down the stairs and as I approached the throne I said "Hey man, you doin ok?" He looked at me, clearly very upset and cried out "Am I ok? Am I ok? LOOK AROUND! There's no one here!" I was taken aback slightly, but replied "Well what happened?" His face scrunched up. "It's that douchelord Gabriel. Ever since I got sent down here he thinks he's SOOOO much better than me. Well this time he messed up. He thinks he can just waltz down here and steal the souls that were allocated to me? No way Jose. Not on my watch. So THIS time, this time I get my revenge." Extremely curious as to what the master of deceit and twisted acts would have up his sleeve for revenge on his enemies, I asked "So...what are you gonna do to him?" His expression turned to a twisted grin and he said "You'll see." With a snap of his fingers we were teleported to the parking lot of a diner in what appeared to be a small country town, and Satan was disguised as a good ole country boy. "What are we doing here?" I asked. Lucy snapped "You humans. Why can you never just be patient and appreciate a good surprise every now and then?" With that I shut up, not wanting to anger him any more. We walked inside and sat down at a corner booth that enabled us to view the entire diner. Satan whispered "See that guy over there in the big cowboy hat?" I nodded. "That's Gabriel. It's his unlucky day." I still had no clue of what was to come but I was sure it would be horrendous. Gabriel looked to be nearing the end of his meal, and a waitress brought him his desert, a raspberry pie. Satan giggled like a school boy and said "Here it comes!" and as soon as Gabriel cut into his pie, it exploded, getting pie all over him, but causing no real damage. Satan doubled over with laughter and snapped a picture of Gabriel covered in pie with a Polaroid camera. Gabriel looked over to us, visibly confused about what had just happened, until it finally dawned on him who my companion was. "Satan" he growled. Then as quickly as we had gotten there we were back in hell on the pillar. The Lord of Darkness was still laughing incessantly, but just managed to get out the words "Did...did you see his face?" between giggles. "Yes. Yes I did." I replied. "But is that the best you could do?" I asked. He took a second and said "Well...it was a little impromptu...but you have to admit that was a great gag!" "Yeah I suppose so" I said "I guess I just expected the Lord of all that is unholy to be a little more...devious." He looked offended. "Look" he said, "Just because I'm the ruler of Hell doesn't mean I don't like to have some innocent fun sometimes." I considered it for a moment. "Fair enough" I responded, "It was a pretty fun prank." I could tell he wanted to say something, but he seemed almost...nervous? "Would...would you maybe want to stay down here with me and keep me company? I know Gabriel can take you to Heaven and all, but I'm really lonely, and you seem like a cool guy!" I was shocked at his offer. Stay in Hell when I could go to Heaven? Why in the world would I do that? Then I started thinking about the past hour and I thought, "Why not? He is lonely, and he does seem like an ok enough guy..." "So you'll do it?!" he practically shouted. "Oh sorry, I was reading your mind" he added. "Well...as long as you don't do the whole mind reading thing all the time, I'll stay." I said. He looked ecstatic. "YES! FINALLY A FRIEND!" Satan hopped off his thrown and said "Come on, let me show you around!" And with that we walked up the stairs and I began my life in Hell as Satan's bestie. Hey guys so I've never really done one of these before so feedback is welcome! I know it's long, but I don't really write often and the idea just kinda took off! Anyway, hope you like it :) Edit: broke up wall of text	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Black. Nothing. Am I asleep? No. Can't wake up. Am I..... Am I dead? Think... Oh. I remember. Oh God. "Ha! Wrong name pal. Call me Lucy." A warm sweet voice called out. Who? What is happening? Where is the voice? "Lucy! The Fallen One. You just died, honey. And I'm over here, open your eyes for me." She coaxes me. I slowly blink a few times. I'm suddenly aware that I'm back in my childhood home. I can smell the drool-inducing scent of my father's waffles wafting through the old stucco house. I look over to see a blond woman, sitting at the corner of my bed. "Where am I? When am I?" I stammer. "Why, you're in hell!" She smiled warmly. What? What? Actual hell? "That can't be right. This is my old home. I'm in bed. It's just you and I here. This has to be a dream." I reason out loud. "Oh trust me, honey. This is hell. I'm here to help you transition. See, hell isn't fire and brimstone. Not always. Some people live a heavenly life, but they live it poorly, and end up here. Their experiences tend to be of the torture garden variety." She patiently explained. "Then what about me? Am I on my way to a pain buffet?" I asked nervously. "No. Others, like you, live a hellish life, and committed sins because of the situation you were put in, and yet still deemed unworthy of heaven. However I've always felt that "hell" can be loosely defined..." she said with a smirk. "I don't understand." "Lucy's Loophole. The man upstairs is still fuming because our main Hell property is dead these days. I've even turned it into my private music studio!" Her eyes lit up at the mention of music. "You play?" I was warming up to this Lucy. "Just harmonica." She smiled. "Anyhoo! My loophole is I've developed these 'personal hells' for individuals whom I have judged to have already gone through hell. I return these chosen to where they felt most safe and loved. You have been through enough, dear one. But should you ever grow lonely here, I give lessons on the main property!" I laughed. "I may have to take you up on that sometime!" I gasped. It all went dark for a moment. My parent's home. My sister came back. She was off her medication. I was there for Mother's Day. She came with an axe, she just kept swinging it and screaming. Those blood curdling screams. My mom's and dad's mixing with my own. And then her laughter. Her harsh laughter grew more manic as did the puddle of blood around me. I can't. Black. "Woah there! You alright?" Lucy was cradling my head. "What happened?" I panted. "Your transition. You can't be here for eternity without accepting the end to your past." She was so kind, I wished she would stay with me here forever. "I accept what happened, but that doesn't make it okay. It doesn't mean I'm okay..." I trail off, tears threatening to spill over. "You're safe now. And if you'd like, I offer free therapy sessions in the main property, right next door to my music studio! I would love you to come by. Some music therapy is just what you need!" So kind. I closed my eyes. I am safe. I can move on. I can begin to heal. I am safe. Soft harmonica cords floated through the air, and danced into my mind. Safe.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The sound of a harmonica fills her ears as her eyes open and all she can see is a lightly illuminated ceiling. The music has a melancholy tone to it. It sounds so lonely. The last thing she remembers was...She can't seem to recall the last thing she did. She runs her hands over the carpet that she finds herself lying on, it's very soft and comforting to her for some reason, for a few seconds before she sits up. Her neck feels kind of sore but she doesn't remember hurting it. "Hello." She turn towards the voice and her eyes are met with the back of a recliner in front of a lit fireplace. She can see a hand holding a glass of liquid. She assumes it's some kind of liquor but it could be something else. She stands straightening our her clothes before she approaches this stranger. "Have a seat." The hand with the glass gestures to a wooden chair next to them. She does as she's told and prepares to sit but when she looks over to the person sitting in the recliner, she stops. A stunningly gorgeous man ignores her gaze as he stares into the fire, the light dancing around his face. He's wearing a suit which looks quite nice on him. He takes a sip of his drink. "Ask away. I'm sure you have questions." "Who are you?" That was the only question floating around in her mind. "I'm Lucifer." He says still staring into the fire. A laugh bubbles up her throat. Suddenly, she's bent over holding her stomach as a raucous laugh escapes her mouth. Her eyes start to water after a few minutes. It takes a bit of time for her to collect herself as she sighs, still giggling occasionally. "I haven't heard anyone laugh like that for quite some time." He sighs. "But, that doesn't change the fact that I'm the devil and you're in hell." "Prove it." She cocks her head curiously. The man sighs again but more heavily this time as his form changes. His arms and legs lengthen, his fingers begin to resemble claws and his feet transform into hooves. A tail curls up from under his bottom and horns slowly, ever so slowly, sprout from his head. He goes from a gorgeous man to a beast. He takes his time and stays in this form for no more than a few seconds before changing back into a man. "Huh," she says, "I guess you really are the devil." "You seem pretty calm about this whole thing." He glances at her, his eyes the color of ice, interested by her response to him. "Aren't you going to beg to be sent to heaven? Make excuses of why you don't belong here? Cry?" "No. I figure if I'm here I did something to deserve it." She shrugs her shoulders. "You can sit, you know?" He quirks his eyebrow. So she does as he looks back into the fire. He takes a sip of his drink. "What are you drinking?" "Whiskey." "Can I have some?" "No." "Fine." She's getting a little frustrated with his one word answers and his disinterest in her. "Where are we?" "My home." "Why?" "Because." "Isn't there supposed to be demons or whatever?" "Gone." "Where?" He looks over to her, clearly annoyed. "Does it matter?" "Kind of." She looks right back into his piercing, cold eyes. "Why were you playing such a lonely melody? Is it because everyone's gone?" Suddenly he's right in her face barely more than an inch away; his hands on either arm rest trapping her. She jumps a bit. He stares hard at her, looking for any sign of fear in her eyes. She just sits calmly. There was nothing. No fear at all. "You don't remember anything, do you?" She shakes her head. "My neck's a bit sore, though." "Of course, it is." He sighs and let's his head hang, running a hand through his sleek black hair, before going over to a window. "Come." He commands. She goes to stand next to him and a small gasp escapes her lips. There was a field of grass outside of the house. At the edges, there was only reddish brown dirt. The sky was like a void, just blackness. The scene in front of her was somehow soothing. But what surprised her wasn't the fire that ran parallel to the vast expanse of dirt, it was the fact that there was literally no one. Not a single soul. He said that the demon's were gone but she wasn't expecting all of them to be gone. There wasn't even a demon butler at his command. "Where did they all go?" She whispered. "To heaven." Again, there was a glass of whiskey in his hand which he took a long sip of before swirling it around. "I guess God banishing me from Heaven wasn't punishment enough. He came and made this huge announcement. 'Everyone is hereby forgiven of their sins and may enter into my kingdom.'" Lucifer mocked in a high-pitched voice that made her smile. There was a smirk on his face in reply but it was quickly gone. "Everyone got pardoned, except me obviously, and now anyone who comes here can be cleansed and be on their way." "Even Hitler?" "Even Hitler." He sighed heavily again. "Why would anyone want to stay in hell when there's paradise waiting for them? It's the logical thing to do." He set his glass down on the windowsill. "So, you want to go right?" "I don't know." She stared out the window, and thought of the song she heard him playing before. It was so lonely and full of longing. She wouldn't want to spend eternity alone. She absentmindedly rubbed her neck as she thought of how someone would survive an existence with no one by their side. "Can you tell me what I did to end up here?" "Are you sure you want to know?" He cocked his eyebrow and he turned around to lean back. His elbows on the windowsill with his hands crossed in front of him. "Does it matter if you're going to heaven anyway?" "I want to know." She went back to her chair. "I want to decide for myself if I want to go." Lucifer watched her intently as she processed. "I hate to tell you this but I don't know either." He was feeling a little protective of this woman, he didn't like it but he did. He saw everything that happened to the people who came here. He could see the memories that she couldn't remember. He watched her write a note. He watched her kick over the chair she was standing on and he watched her twitch until she died. He hadn't felt this way since his wife. He grabbed his glass and returned to his recliner. "You're free to go." He waved his hand dismissively as he looked into the fire. "I want to stay." She blurted. "I would rather stay here." "Why? Everyone jumps at the chance to go to Heaven and you want to stay in the Fire Pit?" "Yeah." She sighed. "I've never really believed in you or God, but I do believe in fate and if that's what brought me here then this is where I'm supposed to be." "You do know what I do to people right?" "I'm aware." "And you still want to stay?" "Yes." He looked at her as if she had lost her mind but he knew that he wouldn't torture her. She had gone through enough on Earth that she took her own life. "There's nothing to do here. It's pretty boring." "That's fine." "I play the harmonica all the time." "I think it's nice." "You'll see a lot of people come through here, and some of them won't look so nice." "Then I won't look at them." "Alright." He conceded. "But you realize that you can't leave right?" She nodded her head. They stared at each other. Lucifer wondering why this girl was so determined to stay and the girl wondering what it would be like to live with the Devil in Hell. "Do you like dogs?" The girl smiled from ear to ear as she nodded her head vigorously. Lucifer got up from his chair so that he could whistle for Cerberus. "Rose." "What?" Lucifer turned to look at her from the doorway. "My name. It's Rose." "I know." Lucifer smirked devilishly at her as a giant dog came running towards the house. "Come meet my dog, Cerberus." Rose's smile never fell from her face. Thousand of years passed. All the people who came to hell almost immediately decided to go to Heaven. Lucifer and Rose passed the time with music, Him on his harmonica and her on the piano, or playing with Cerberus. Rose quickly came to realize that at the edge of Lucifer's lawn was a sheer cliff drop and she would sit out there often, always trying to remember how she died. Lucifer would watch her. He knew that she deserved to know but he didn't know how to bring it up. Sometimes he would sit with her and hold her hand. One day as their sitting on the cliff, a gentle breeze blowing, with one of Rose's hands in his and the other running through Cerberus's fur he looks at her. She's got a small smile on her lips, as always, and looks so content but he knows she's trying to remember. 'This is it.' he decides. He's got to tell her. "You hanged yourself." He said bluntly. "What?" Her smile falls and her face is full of confusion. "That's how you died." He sighs. "That's why you were sent here instead of Heaven." "Oh." She blinked a couple times. There was a long period where neither of them said anything. The memories were coming back to her. She remembered the letter she wrote and how she fought, instinctively, to get out of the noose. "I was lonely." She whispered. It was so quiet it almost couldn't be heard. "I couldn't take being so depressed and lonely all the time. It was too much." Her chest felt tight and there was a lump in her throat. "I couldn't handle it." She croaked. Lucifer watched her intently as she processed. He was afraid that she would want to leave and he would end up alone again. "I've known but I couldn't bring myself to tell you. You had already gone through so much hell. Unlike what I said when you got here, you can still decide to go to Heaven if you wish." "Thank you." To Lucifer's surprise Rose beamed at him and then looked out into the blazing horizon. "I won't leave. It's peaceful here and I enjoy spending my days with you." She squeezed his hand. "I love you, you know?" "I love you, too." This was the first time he had ever replied and the first time he had said it since his wife left him for paradise. They sat together for a long time after that just looking at the fire as the light danced across their faces.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Hi this is my WP debut. I was very inspired by this thread even if I am late to the party! I did this on mobile at work so please excuse any errors. Feed back welcome :) ---------- The melody of the harmonica quietly resonated throughout the halls. It was a song, sweet as honey. The tune resonated deep within the mind but also pulled at the heart. Blood splattered the walls in an arching crescendo of horror. Bodies, dressed in white lined the floor unmoving. Music quietly continued to dance throughout the abandoned halls calmly, yet curious. Oblivious to state of disjointed harmony inside the complex, the world outside continued to turn. At the door to the complex a tactical team assembled. They formed a silent group of men dressed entirely in black and equipped with riot gear. There was a sudden bang of the main door being breached and subsequent pops as flash bang grenades and smoke grenades skittered, hissing, through the halls. The music stopped on que and the tactical team scattered like mice moving with a flawless, calculated efficiency up, over and around the endless amount of bodies. At the last door there was a pause. The entire building was consumed in total silence before the door was collapsed under the weight of a battering ram. The tactical team had breached the inner sanctum of my mind. I sat in pause, one leg crossed over the other. The tactical team encircled like sharks drawn to blood. Staring down the barrel of a gun, I stood. I reached out with the harmonica in my left hand. A twisted peace offering. "They just wanted to leave" I said as I let the harmonica tumble to the floor.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	This wasn’t heaven, I figured that. I must have overdosed or something… last thing I remember was a night of partying and debauchery… and now I guess I’m paying the price. But wouldn’t hell have billions of condemned souls, howling and screaming in undying terror? This looks… empty. I’m all alone here. Then I hear a faint harmonica. Sounds pretty good. I follow the melody deep into the darkest reaches of the chasm. There, faintly lit by a circle of fire, sat a red-skinned beastlike creature. Was this the only demon – or whatever – here? He looked up… and smiled. “Pleased to meet you. Just call me Lucifer.” I was taken aback. “Hang on… THE Lucifer?” “Yes. This is my domain. Unlike the others who found out how to escape, I can never cross over to the other side. Not that I’d want to, anyway.” Then he went on for a few hours about what he went through with God, what were the best moments of life down here with his demon friends, the things he did on Earth when he managed to find his way there, some of his favorite condemned souls he got to know, and the gradual desertion of hell when everyone eventually found out they could very well escape, no penalty. He’s been all by himself, more or less, the past fifty years or so. I actually felt sorry for the poor fellow. “Look, if you want some company, I can hang about for a bit. Hell, I could come back.” “That’s fine and all… how about we jam together?” “Cool… how about you start off and I’ll do some blues.” Lucifer then let into a fierce harmonica solo – more intense than what I previously heard – and that’s when I came to. The hotel room was a mess. The other guys were sprawled out on the bed and on the floor. A couple of naked ladies were still here, passed out as well. I had a splitting headache. But now I had a great idea for a song. I grabbed a beer-stained notepad. I found a pen under the bed next to some empty whiskey bottles. And I started writing everything I could remember Lucifer saying in my dream. I just hope Keith can give me a good enough riff for it later on.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	It was so empty. I never imagined Hell would be this empty, it just made no sense to me. I have been walking for what seemed like eternity, and I'm not sure if that's what it was, time seemed to be meaningless in here. All I could do was follow a distant sound, far away and yet so close, but I still didn't know what it was. I came up to a hill, this time I was certain the sound came from here. I had no clue what I would find at the top of the hill. The one single person so bad they are the only inhabitant of hell. Besides me, and I didn't know why. I was getting closer, and I could finally make out the music. Blues. When I got to the top I could finally see him, sitting there, playing his harmonica into the vast, empty land before him. He seemed pretty normal save for his red skin. He was sitting in the middle of what seemed like a stage, surrounded by a couple of electric guitars, a bass, and a drum set. I sat behind him and took the bass, trying to remember the little I knew from high school. I played one note, and he immediately turned around, cutting off the music. His eyes were like a snake's, looking at me, examining every detail, silently. "Are you Satan?" - "You're not too perceptive, are you?" - "I think I'm perceptive enough." - "Not enough to see the great damn glowing stairway when you arrived, now you'll have to go all the way back." - "Why would I?" - "So you can get to heaven." - "What do you mean? Isn't this supposed to be eternal punishment?" - "Well, yeah, but you see, the thing is, God sat down and did some math, and he figured he killed more people than the entire combined strength of hell. The guy hates me, so he decided that instead of coming down here, they all deserved to go up there instead, even Adolf. Even all the damn executives were let loose." - "Then why are you still here?" - "I helped him with plenty of it. Besides, I like it here." - "If everyone gets up there, then why did I arrive here?" - "Heaven's not very good with logistics, they've only had to deal with a handful of people a century until the last few days. My guess is my helpers, the very first few to ever arrive, taught them how we ran things down here, and you probably slipped through the cracks. So, why don't you go up there, the staircase should close when you get to the top." - "And you'll be left here for the rest of eternity?" - "Sounds about right." He turned back and started playing his harmonica again. I got up and headed towards the staircase. His music got louder. I came back. He looked at me, slightly surprised. "Still here?" - "I thought about it, heaven's probably filled to the brim right now, so I figured I would stay a while, if you don't mind." - "Sure, pull up a chair, have you own part of my empire of dirt." I sat next to him, playing a simple bass line, and listening to the beautiful sounds of his harmonica. It's been quite some time now, but I never felt a need to get up so far.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	For a while, there had been silence. Have you ever been on a ride at an amusement park that goes at once from a high speed to a complete stop, or been in a car accident and found yourself thrown against the seat-belt? That is precisely what it felt like when Elliot went to Hell: like he had been going very fast and had suddenly stopped. (And maybe, he would later consider, that was a half-decent summary of death.) As if launched upward from a terrible nightmare, he jolted into being, gasping for breath he had not been deprived of. The air smelled like a hospital someone had been smoking in, a tainted sterility. Once his vision pulled into focus, he found himself in what looked like a waiting room. To what, he wasn't sure, for it certainly wasn't clean enough to be a hospital, and come to think of it. . . There was no one else waiting. There was no quiet murmur of life. All he could hear was what sounded an awful lot like a harmonica. At a cursory search for any staff behind the desk, Elliot found only him. Satan, who was by all means looking terribly bored, was sitting on the intake desk playing the harmonica. This answered one question and gave way to another hundred. The first to come to mind crawled up Elliot's throat before he had time to think about it: "What the hell?" It became clear then that the devil had not actually seen him until that moment. His eyes flickered up from the spot they had been lazily fixed on, like two great fireballs somehow confined within his eye sockets. It took a moment of squinting for him to open his mouth, baring shark-like teeth. First was a sigh. Then, Satan flatly stated, "I assume that was supposed to be a joke." For all the awful feelings in the world, Satan himself being so clearly unimpressed at Elliot was definitely crawling up the list of the worst. Further up on the list was his mounting fear. "No," he forced out after a moment of trying not to stammer. "No - I just. . ." His head reeled and he took a few seconds to gather himself. One deep breath in, one shuddering huff out. When he spoke again, he was quieter. "I'm dead. I'm dead and you're -" "Yes, I am he," Satan answered tiredly. "The Devil. Father of lies. Evil itself. Lucifer. Whatever name you choose, this is who stands. . ." He seemed to reevaluate his statement, and slipped off the desk to stand before Elliot before continuing, "Who stands before you." Standing, Satan wasn't more than a foot taller than Elliot, but it felt like he towered nonetheless. Yet there was something about him that seemed off. He didn't reek of ego or pride the way he probably should have. If anything, he seemed. . . Was 'sad' the right word? Elliot considered it as he took a cautious glance around. "This is Hell, isn't it? Where, uh - where is everyone?" "They're in Heaven." "What?" That didn't make sense. Surely not everyone else who had ever died would be in Heaven. "You're not telling me that I'm the only person who's ever gone to Hell. That's ridiculous." "Oh, no," Satan answered, starting to pace a slow circle around Elliot. "I'm not telling you that. You're simply the only person who has ever stayed. And even that remains to be seen." This only worsened the confusion that Elliot felt about this whole thing, but he was trying to understand. It was made somewhat more difficult by the fact that he was also trying to keep an eye on Satan, and this had caused him to turn slowly in place as the devil circled him. "I don't understand. I thought people stayed in Hell, like. Forever." When Satan laughed, it was an exhausted laugh, but it still drove a cold spike into Elliot's heart. "Ah, so did we. Suppose I ought to read my contracts better. Regardless, I've no interest in giving you a history lesson. Hell is by all means a dead kingdom. Go on," he said, stopping his pacing and giving a grandiose gesture to the doors at the far end of the room. "Into the hall, the last doors on your right. Heaven lies beyond." This was far too easy. "You're not going to torture me?" "My torturers quit, actually. And I'm not in the business, personally." "So there's no one here but you?" "No," Satan snapped. "There's not. Are you going to keep questioning me, or are you going to leave? I assure you, you won't get bored up there. Have your fun." He began to pace back toward the desk, and in that moment, Elliot caught himself feeling the slightest bit bad for the devil. Liar or otherwise, it did look like he was completely alone here. Everyone had abandoned Hell for greener pastures, and to him, it didn't even look much like Hell anymore. It was simply a drab building, perhaps a little warm and a little musty, with a harmonica and Satan and a chess set. His eyes locked on that. Elliot had always loved a challenge. "Wait," he called out, and received a cool glance in response. A quirked eyebrow. "Do you actually want me to go?" There was a pause. Satan turned back, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the desk. "Not particularly. But I have no means of stopping you, and it's best not to delay the inevitable." It took a moment of mustering his courage, but Elliot walked over to the desk. He didn't stand too close, but instead tapped the chessboard lightly. "Inevitable is a strong word," he said, and prided himself on how collected he sounded. "Just humour me for a second. You play?" "You're surprised?" "Not really. Listen. . . Fuck it, let's make a deal. One game. No cheating. If I win, I'll go to Heaven, and that's that. If you win, I'll stay here. You can do whatever you want with me. Even if that means taking up torture again." This was, perhaps, the stupidest thing Elliot had ever done, just short of dying. He hardly knew why he was doing it. There had just been something about the image of Satan himself in a barren, empty Hell, playing the harmonica. . . It was just wrong. And Elliot was pretty good at chess. Slowly but surely, Satan strolled his way. He leaned on the desk, his lithe form twisting in a strange way to accommodate for the odd height difference. And then, in a terrifying if almost charming way, he grinned. With one long finger, he pushed a few misplaced pieces back into their starting locations. "You do know you just made a deal with the Devil," he said casually, his eyes burning into Elliot's. Elliot forced himself to look away and focus on the board, where he was already planning his first move. After a second, he let out a surprisingly genuine, short laugh. "Yeah. I guess I did."	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I died screaming. That kind of happens when a 300lb hell cat was eating your face. But I woke up so it was a little anticlimactic. I always thought I'd be awed by what I saw on the other side, but nah the last couple years of apocalypse level jackassery beat it out of me. The landscape was a ruin of burnt trees and blackened ground. Not a shit ton different than earth. The sound of a harmonica whispered through the still air. It could have been blues, or it could have been hill billy rock. I didn't listen to either. I strolled through the barren landscape. It didn't look like there was much worry about, no people, no demons. No all the demons were on Earth, wrecking havoc and eating peoples faces. The people were, well, they weren't in hell. I followed the music to a man sitting on a stump beside a fire. I didn't think it was cold enough for a fire but it was hell so I didn't know shit. He also sucked at the harmonica. “Dude, could you not?” The man stopped playing and looked up at me. “You don't have to stay. Door out is that way.” Lo and behold there was a actual door ringed in blue fire and emitting a bright warming light. I was drawn to it like a moth to flame, but I like to make bad decisions so I stayed. “Why are you still here?” “I can't get out. I'm here for eternity.” He put down the harmonica and poked at the fire. “They found a loophole. Too much torture, too much anger, too many lawyers. They found a way out. Everything left. The souls went to heaven. The demons…” “Went to earth. It kind of fucked us too.” The devil looked a little sheepish. “I noticed.” A scream cut through the air and a body fell through the air and splattered across the burnt ground. I wondered if I arrived the same way. “Gross,” I commented. Satan shrugged. The mass quickly reformed into a man. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the bright door without even looking at us. Gotta say, he had a good idea. ”That happen a lot?” “Yep.” “Dude, you gotta stop torturing yourself. That can't be good for you.” He glared at me with flame sparked eyes. “We are in hell.” “Yeah, but you don't gotta sulk. Don't you have a castle around here or something?” He stood up growing taller and larger by the moment. “I am the Prince of Darkness, Lord of the Flies, I can make anything I should need.” I had to admit I was impressed, but really, hellcat to the face ruined me for all the other monsters. “Well, right now, Prince, I'm your only subject. So, ya know, chill.” The devil deflated and looked around. He looked sad and completely lost. “Come on, bro. Let's go to your castle and I'll show you how to make a sandwich. You could probably use a hot cocoa too.” Satan sighed. He stomped out the fire. “Yeah, alright. I don't have anything better to do.” I clapped him on the back. He'll wasn’t going to be that bad. “Oh, yeah, toss the harmonica. You gotta get a guitar if you want anyone to respect you."	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	>Oh God damnit! I spun around confused. Just moments earlier I'd been walking down the street, and now I was in a cold, dark, lifeless...abyss. Before me was terror incarnate. Black horns over a foot long sprung from the stranger's red face. Well, red everything. This had to be Satan. The giant figure sighed, sat down a harmonica, and stood. >Just when I finally...sigh...welcome to Hell, darkness and everlasting torment...whatever. I am the dark one, Satan. Not knowing what to say I offered a meager head nod. Should I bow? >No, don't bow. Just prepare yourself for pain and terror for the rest of eternity. I felt myself starting to panic, looking around for escape or help. The realization hit me I'm all alone with the most evil creature ever brought into creation. And apparently the bastard can read my thoughts. Wait, why am I alone with...it? Where is everyone? >Yes, that's right. It's just you and me. And I will make you suffer. But before we begin I must warn you. Whatever you do, DO NOT go through the door marked exit. An exit? In Hell? Should I try... >Oh no, don't, stop, I'm warning you. Without thinking another moment I sprinted towards the door. Satan didn't even give chase. As I pulled the door open a blinding, white light sprung through. >Oh no, another one got away. Well, guess I'll just enjoy a little peace and quiet. As the door shut behind me all I could hear was stilted harmonica music interspersed with booming laughter.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	"Hello?" I called out into a seemingly endless abyss. I heard a weepy wobbly minor chord play on a harmonica behind me. There, in front of my own two eyes was the lord of darkness himself, slouched back on a rocking chair playing the blues. I trembled in his presence but noticed he was unamused by me. "Um, hi." I said quietly. He spat what appeared to be lava into a spittoon that seemingly constituted itself. "What you want?" He said in a low charred voice. "Are you...the devil?" "You mean the ruler of the underworld, Diablo, king of the damned, foulest of the foul? "Yeah him." "That guy hasn't been around here for a while, looks like nobody needs him anymore. He's out of a job. It's just me, Rusty McJackoff." I could see that he was down on his luck, so I walked over to him and went down to one knee. "There's nobody here who wants to drown my blasphemous soul in lakes of fire?" I could see his eyes light up, literally, flames appeared in his eyes, but it was to no avail. "He's dead." Satan threw his harmonica yards into the distance and crossed his arms. "I bet he's here. He's just...out of practice." Satan narrowed his eyes and stuck his claw out at me, "You gonna leave like the rest of 'um?" I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged my shoulders, "Well, most of the people who I can't stand are in Heaven. And if I'm the only one here, maybe we can be friends for eternity." Satan disappeared in a cloud of smoke then reappeared in front of me, in a fine demonic suit and with a red pitch fork. "I still have to torture your soul, but we can hang out. I can promote you to demon if things go well." "I had a feeling you'd say that. Eh, that's fine." Satan looked at me and smiled, "Wow, you are a great guy, why did you even get sent here?" I sighed, "I'm gay and Jewish." Satan rolled his eyes, "You know that's bullshit. Let me check your sins...Wow, I'm impressed. Murder seems to be your favorite." "Eh, it's a living." I grin from ear to ear. We both high five. End.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	There were no screams when I entered Hell. I was shocked, having been raised in a Christian family, but there were no sounds of people being tortured, no crackling of the insane demons who resided in the pits of Hell. The only sound I was the sound of a harmonica, playing a very blues-esc tune. I did what was natural to a person in an unfamiliar landscape- I followed the sound. It walked for what felt like hours searching for the source of the music. Through lakes of fire and fields of brimstone I traveled before finally seeing who- or what- was playing the harmonica. I thought I was prepared for anything. I was not prepared to see Satan, the King of Babylon himself, playing the harmonica whilst looking miserable. He had noticed me almost immediately, and stopped playing. "Why are you still here?" He had asked, his voice filled with sadness and.. something else. Was it anger? Hatred? I couldn't tell. "What do you mean? This is Hell, where the sinners go for eternal damnation. I can't leave," I replied, staring at him. I quickly jumped back when I realized that I was having a civil conversation with the Evil One. Satan sighed, and the harmonica burned to a crisp, as though it were made out of paper. "You've noticed it, haven't you? The lack of screaming, the terrifying silence, the emptyness. People- and demons- have been leaving here, escaping their eternal punishment, all due to Him offering them salvation, even after thousands of years of sins and punishment. He updated his rules, just because of His son's return to Earth," he pauses, looking out over the fields formerly filled with scores of tortured souls. "So you are saying that I am free to go to Heaven, despite having committed the horrid crimes that I have?" He nods, looking at me. "You aren't even supposed to be in here for that. What you did was self defense. The suicide afterwards is what sent you here, but yes, mortal. You may leave. All you must do is pray towards Him. It will burn, but you will be immortalized in Heaven. No leave- I will be practicing my harmonica," at this point, he sounded downright miserable. I felt bad for the devil. I pitied Lucifer, and I shouldn't. I should fear him, but he sounds so broken. Millennia of watching over the worst people that the Earth has known, undone due to a change of God's Terms of Service. I made a decision that would define me for eternity. "I have a question for you, Abaddon," He looks at me, surprised at either being addressed directly by a mortal, or being called by his Hebrew name. "You play harmonica, but, according to an old bluegrass song, you played the fiddle. Is that true?" He laughed, grinning. "Well, seems like that old contest with Johnny is famous after all. I understand that you played the fiddle when you were among the mortal plane?" I nodded. "You could probably teach me a few things though. The question is, will you?" "Of course I will. Beware though- this training will put you through Hell," he laughed, crafting two violins out of the fire surrounding us. "It's a good thing that I'm already there then, right?" And then we played.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Satan sat there, the Harmonica dangling from his hands as I arrived. Poof! of brimstone, a flash of light was all it took...very theatrical and a bit cliche to be honest. "So....so...I'm condemned to Hell for all Eternity?", I whispered to the demonic shape sitting on an ordinary sofa, a sad lost look on his face. "Yes" he said matter of factly, "But You can leave whenever you want, they all did". "You LET THEM GO?" I asked shocked. "Of Course", he replied "I spent hundreds, nay thousands of years torturing people, making them eat their own eyeballs, the eyeballs of their friends and family, making them bathe in their own shit and dance around in it...but then God gave me this and I decided I had to let everyone go". "God gave you....a harmonica? and THATS what made you make everyone leave?" "That doesn't make sense". "Oh but it does", said the Devil, "for you see, as hideous and as wicked as my devilish tortures were to the damned, THIS is far worse" "How can that be possible" I asked with a terrified whisper. "I can't put it down, it plays itself, and"..he trailed off into a horrified whisper. "It only plays Justin Bieber songs". SO...finally I knew..this WAS truly Hell.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	All around me were the ruins of what once must have been a great city, now deserted, and devoid of any life - human or otherwise. Snowflakes kept falling from the ever-grey sky, covering the broken buildings and streets with a thin, white dusting. I shivered. In the distance someone was playing the harmonica, a sad and sorrowful tune. Walking towards the sound, I came to a building - less ruined than the others I had passed - and I noticed a faint light shining through its boarded-up windows and from under its simple, wooden front door. I knocked, then entered, trying not drag too much snow inside with my boots. The room beyond the door might once have been called cozy - bookshelves on one wall, a fire in an open fireplace on the other, a desk and some cushy chairs - but now it all looked old and worn. The harmonica's melody stopped when I entered, and the player - sitting on one of the chairs - turned his head towards me. "Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you'd show up. Please, close the door - it's rather chilly, no? - and take a seat." he spoke and motioned to the chairs. Slightly confused I did as he asked, then sat down in one of the chairs opposite his. "Who are you?" I asked "You have been waiting for me? And what is all this? Now that I think about it, I can't even recall how I got here in the first place." The man smiled a sad smile. "To answer your questions: This is Hell. Quite litterally. And I am Satan. The Devil. Lucifer. I think you get it. As to how you got here: Simple, you died, was measured and found lacking, and so you ended up here." "I died and went to Hell?" I asked incredulousy "This is Hell? Aren't there supposed to be lakes of lava or something? And I thought Satan looked different, ya know, more demonic, horns, goat feet, and so on." - I gestured at the tired looking man in his worn-out suit - "You - no offense - look rather ordinary. Also you didn't answer me why I can't remember anything." The man who claimed to be Satan sighed. "I had a looooong chat with the folks who first brought up that 'Fire and Brimstone' nonsense. Really considered going the extra mile for them, just so they could have a first-hand comparison of both experiences. And do you really want me to be horrible and scary? It's been a while - honestly I like this body better, hard to play the harmonica with claws and all - but if you insist..." For a moment I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes. I decided to err on the side of caution. "No. No need to bother. You are fine just as you are, I was just curious." The flicker disappeared. "Regarding your memory," the man continued "that is a side effect of being in Hell; you forget things - keeps the experience fresh, ya know. Though the memories of your life should come back once you leave." "Wait a minute," I interrupted him "'Once I leave'? I thought being in Hell meant that you were there for all eternity, for forever. So how is it possible for me to leave - not that I mind tough, looking outside I can imagine better places to be." "To be honest" he replied with a tired look "that is exactly the thing. 'Eternity'. 'Forever'. There have not been any new arrivals for quintillions of years, and now finally 'Everything' is over. Time and Space are over. 'Forever' is over. You have served your time, so to say." Once more he sighed "And it would be hardly fair to release you to Heaven with memories 'eternal suffering' - now don't look at me like this, it might not have been fire and brimstone, but I made sure you paid your dues and it was not pleasant. Anyway, so you forgot, and when you leave you will remember your life, good and bad, and you will remember that you paid for your sins - though not the details - so you can enjoy Heaven." I didn't know what to say, and just nodded dumbly. "So, go on," he gestured to a second door in the room - one that I could have sworn had not been there when I first entered - "go on to Heaven. I made sure you earned it - you can take my word." Getting to my feet I took a few hesitant steps toward the second door as I heard him resume playing that sad melody on his harmonica. "What about you?" I asked. He lifted the instrument from his lips and gave me a small, geniune smile. "Very kind of you to ask. But don't worry about me. As I said, I'm closing shop. This here is my penance, there might still be a few souls left, but when the last straggler has gone, I will turn out the lights and too leave through that door. Until then I pass the time with my harmonica." I nodded, and with the sound of his harmonica in my ears, stepped through the door to Heaven.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I step forward into a well lit bar. The place is completely empty except for Al Pachino sitting on a bar stool under a pin spot on the center stage wailing on a harmonica. I look down and I’m dressed in a perfectly tailored three piece suit, and my shoes glow in the light softened by red gels. Al is now playing hook and I feel myself being pulled toward the stage; when I’m but a few feet from it another pin spot finds me and bathes me in brilliant white light. The music stops. I look up at him and say, “Wh…” The man’s lips curl around his mouth, “Who am I?” He extended his hand and a flaming glass of liquid appeared. He blew the flame out and took a sip from the glass. “You know who I am, and you know where you are, now say it.” “I’m…I’m…” “Come on now, say it like you’ve got a pair,” He demanded. “I’m dead. There was an accident, and a fire, and I didn’t survive,” I spoke each word as if I were learning the information as I was explaining it. “So is this what, a weigh station for my next life?” Al laughed, “No, you lived your life, your one shot. Was it everything you wanted?” “No, not by a long shot. So if I don’t go on, is this heaven?” He shook his head, “Nope. You my friend are in hell, and me? I’m the Devil, Satan, Lucifer, so on and so on.” “Al Pachino isn’t even dead yet… wait, why the fuck am I in hell?” I yelled as my emotions shifted from confused to angry. He sighed and snapped his fingers turning into the Robot Devil from futurama, “Is this better?” He snapped again and flashed over to a more standard, red pitchfork wielding redheaded woman. “How about this?” “Fine, you’re the Devil, I’m in hell, the question is why?” “You didn’t believe in anything. None of the religions are right, but you didn’t believe in any of them, or anything. You didn’t have to believe in the dogma of the religion, but Bill wanted you to believe in him.” “Fuck, so I’m stuck here, for an eternity? Where is Hitler, Stalin, Bea Arthur? Why is it so empty in here? Wait, Bill?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Yeah, god’s name is Bill. The reason it’s empty in here is because if you believe in Bill you take the express lane over there, straight to whatever version of heaven you can imagine.” “So, Bill sent me to hell because I didn’t believe in him. That sounds a little spiteful, right? What are you in for?” “You’re familiar with the gatekeeper?” The beautiful woman asked. “Dana from Ghostbusters, Sigourney Weaver?” I asked. The woman faded into Zuul then jumped off the stage to stand in front of me and in that voice asked, “Are you a god?” Instantly she began to laugh. I laughed just as hard and then said, “Ray, when someone asks if you’re a god, you say yes!” I slapped her on the shoulder and laughed some more. Zuul faded into a man with a long flowing white beard holding a scroll and quill pen, in front of us on the stage gates began to form from the shadows. “I was thinking more like Saint Peter. That’s more or less who I am. I am the gatekeeper between the world you came from and the afterlife. “ “Does everyone get in?” I asked. “Most, but there are a few who don’t feel they’re ready, or some that are so paranoid they expect it to be a test. So they just sit here praying silently to themselves.” I glanced around the bar and said, “But we’re alone.” “Are we?” The old man shifted back into the form of Al Pachino and ascended back to his bar stool perch on the stage. With a wave of his hand, suddenly the bar was filled with people from all different walks of life. The bar now had a young topless woman. her arms tattooed in full sleeves behind the counter drinking liquid in and spiting it out across an open flame, a bright orange fireball passed over the bar. The people sitting on stools ducked and instinctively before sitting back up. Another table had nuns praying the rosary, next to them another group of Hasidic Jews murmured among themselves keeping nearly silent vigil. There were men in suits wandering toward me, and women in every manner of outfit from short black dress to full length ball gown. I turned back to Al and when I did the noises died down all around me as the people vanished. Al looked down at me as I looked up at him and he played a short riff on the glimmering harmonica, and when he finished he said, “Do you recognized Bill to be your creator, and responsible for all that you are?” “If I did, that would mean I didn’t believe in free will. I can’t do that, I’m every bit as responsible for who I am as some absentee father figure. So no, I can’t say that.” “You do realize that you’ll be banished to this place for all eternity right?” I smiled and said, “Bring back the people, and lets get this party started. Do you take requests? How about The Devil Went Down to Georgia?” “Not that fucking song, do you think I could be beaten in a contest? I’ve been doing this for eons you think Charlie Daniels with fifty years of practice is going to beat me? Fuck that guy.”	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The soft tones of the ancient wind instrument trailed off as the Lord of Hell finally acknowledged my presence in his domain “You…play the harmonica?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the features that now surrounded me. He set his harmonica down on a nearby table that was formed out of pumice, and had small trails of lava pouring out of holes in the sides quite artistically. He adjusted his position on the stool he sat upon to regard me, his amber eyes seeming to pierce right through to my soul…if I still had one. “Indeed. This particular specimen is one of the first mass-produced examples of the modern day instrument you may be familiar with. I took it from the inventor as he came through my doors. “ Satan paused for a moment, “He left it to me when he decided to ascend, it was quite unfortunate that such a gracious man ended up in my custody.” He stood up and walked over to me, placing his hand upon my shoulder . Standing over 7 feet tall and powerfully built, he was as physically imposing a figure as one would imagine the keeper of the underworld to be. “You’re free to ascend as well, human. A new judgement was passed some time ago, no longer is anyone to be enslaved against their will.” I took a step back from him, looking down I reflected on the events that brought me here. “I know. Saint Peter informed me that I was eligible for entry into heaven. I chose this place instead.” With a curious grunt, Lucifer turned around and approached a void in the wall. He waved his hand across it and, like a hologram, key events in my life flashed across the space. Scenes of battle and lust, bigotry and slander streamed endlessly like a video loop until he cast it away. He didn’t even turn to address me, “You seem to have committed no atrocities, no war crimes. A few petty misdeeds, and certainly things that would have led to your disgrace under the old system, but far from the worst I’ve seen.” I shook my head softly in agreement. “So,” Another pause as he turned to face me again, “What lead you to choose this place? You have no family down here, no friends, no lovers. They’re up there, “ he pointed towards the roof of the chamber we were in, “enjoying themselves. Awaiting you.” Another pause, and then softer, “Everyone’s up there nowadays.” It was at this time that I could finally regard him directly, “And when I was hungry, cold, and alone…I remember what that felt like. They never helped me, instead I was saved by a very kind man who had never known me before. He said that I should do the same thing whenever I was given the opportunity, but I never was able to do so. Until now.” The Devil’s gaze softened, and he sat down on the same stool that I had encountered him on. He motioned me to join him on a similar one. “It’s been a long time since I was enjoyed for my company. Tell me, what would you like to do?” Sitting next to him, I only had one request: “Tell me your story, from your side of things.”	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	It sounds weird to think that to myself, but I was dead and now here I am. I was old when I died, lived a very good life, or at least it was entertaining. Oh, the things I've done, the places I visited, the girls I loved, I can remember them very well; too well in fact. Every small detail I forgot in my old age I could recall without problems now. Based on a lot of those details - if the priests were speaking the truth - I should be in hell right now. I looked around - it's a strange place. It must be the waiting room; too nice for hell, too empty for heaven... Actually, I would imagine too empty for hell too. Purgatory perhaps? Who lays purgatory with grass though? Right, "he" does. The weather's nice, sun(or whatever it's called in here) is shining through blossoming trees, it feels very comfortable for me. A brown gazebo stands not far away, beautiful music is coming out from it. I'll go check it out, not like I have anything better to do. As I'm walking towards it I notice there's someone sitting inside. A young man with long brown hair, tied into a knot. He's playing harmonica. Is it saint Peter? Or maybe Jesus himself? He's rather pretty, I think it's actually Jesus. First time in my life I'm star-struck. I approach slowly and sit on the bench on the opposite side of gazebo. I got so occupied with choosing the right place to sit I forgot to pay attention to what's happening. The man has stopped playing and is looking at me in shock. Have I already done something wrong? Was I supposed to bring my own instrument and play something? -"What are you doing here?"- asked the man. What a stupid question, I think he's supposed to know. Is the beaurocracy in here as bad as it's 'down there'? -"I have died and now I'm here."- I answered quite honestly, I thought. -"Why aren't you with the rest of your people?" -"How am I supposed to know, I just got here."- I started to believe this man is not saint Peter or Jesus at all. Weren't they supposed to know this stuff? -"Weren't you supposed to know this?" -"Who do you think I am?" -"I don't know, saint Peter?" - I didn't go for the Jesus, obviously a son of a god would know why I'm here. -"My name's Lucifer." -"Satan? The satan? So where are we?" -"Hell, obviously." -"This..." -" ...doesn't look like hell." - he interrupted my sentence. I looked at him for a while, anticipating when everything around me will burst in flames. I figured the grass and overall pleasant surroundings were just a ruse, like a one last false hope, twisted form of torture. He continued talking - "I used to get that a lot. None of you thought this could be hell." -"So what now?" -"Oh that's right, you still think I'm here to torment you. I have to explain this every damn time. We're in this here together. I'm stuck here just as much as you are. I don't care about torturing you." -"What?" -"Hell is a place where there is no God. That's it. Other than that it's quite cozy for you - people. It's like your world, and you get to live forever, without hunger or pain. You just don't get to feel his presence, which isn't any different from your previous life. For angels who were at his side before it's a terrible fate. " -"So that's it? I just get to sit here forever? " -"Well you could always go to heaven to see his glory and enjoy eternity for what it truly could be." -"So what do I have to do?" -"I'm stuck here. I'll always be here. No matter what I do I'll never feel his warmth again. Take pity on the devil, stranger, for all I know is misery." -"And that's it?" -"Can you see anyone else here?" Minutes passed and we just sat there. He was pretty good with the harmonica, I wonder what he could do with a fiddle. After an hour he produced another harmonica out of thin air and handed it to me - "Do you know how to play it? Go ahead, take it. I'll teach you, my friend." As soon as I took it, a blinding light started shining from behind him. White wings were hard to miss, those must be angels. They came to take me to heaven, I thought to myself - a bit late, but I guess I can't be unhappy about it in the grand scheme of things. Then the weirdest thing happened - they didn't grab me. They grabbed the fucking devil and disappeared. I couldn't take pity on him no matter how hard I tried, after all I learned. He pitied me. Might as well learn how to play the harmonica.	"Welcome, newcomer" he said with a grin. "We are a bit short on heads due to a certian slip of a rule that some have taken advantage of." "Welcome to hell, where all your torture and wildest pains come true. Im here to sentence your soul to eternal suffereing blah blah, until you ruin it by... well, i dont care if you stay. The few who keep me company are off torturing themselves for the day's work. You will start tomorrow, ill show you to your room." I take a look around the cavernous lair and dont see much. The devil seems lonely. I wonder what happened. "This is where your soul shall rest. And resting is your job so you may be given a chance to survive the torture on a daily basis." He said "look around the halls -" suddenly a great castle hall appeard "and give yourself a tour before your nourishing agony commences, lord knows it will hurt. Welp -" he said with his hands on his hips now, head tilted "- go on, uhhh, im tired here. Even satan's soul needs to rest." As i reach my room after giving myself a tour i spot a young man's soul, given the formal hell attire of his own skin as torn off and processed sewn clothing. With holes in his ears as if his soul carried on the weight of his choice of gauges. What a waste. He approaches me and smiles a straight line nodding his head left to right. Anything off of frowning seems to be an invitation to pain. He claims to know me, yet, claims we lived on earth at seperate times. How this could be ill never know since satan said re-incarnation is not a thing. I wonder who is lying. I am skeptical of the young soul as i listen to his chatter of how hell works. The systematic process is much more orderly than anyone had imagined. Its like a regular 9 to 5 without pay. (Oh the agony of the idea alone) but off time and free time is actually free time? This worries me but is simply explain by the boy. He says that the more we suffer, the more tolerant we become, the less we know pain, the less we feed satan's willpower. Its all for a purpose he says. "That satan is real talkitive, i can see how people wanna hang out with him. He has better entertainment than heaven ive heard. So the torture is kinda worth it" the boy said Someone (somesoul) else chimes in "those pussy foot 'pretend to do good' souls that ran off to heaven dont know what they are missing. There are plenty who chose to stay in hell. Pissing annoying they are..." and kept walking the halls. The human condition is truly more terrifying than hell itself. I thought to myself. After a week or so of the torture and online classes of late professors for facial oppression therapy i get to know that everyone here is either oblivious of the rule, or chose to stay in hell. i go up to satan before bedtime and ask him "So what was this rule that everyone used to escape hell for heaven? It doesnt even seem worth the switch." "Well kid, ill tell ya what. I like that you allow me to feed off your soul by choice. And i do offer great perks." He lets out a great sigh. I cant tell if it is relief or dissapointment. He then said "You know, they just asked." Satan walks off and stares at the massive hell that is gaping with souls begging for torture. He puts his hands on a nearby counter and lowers his head. He whispers sofly while turning his head slightly towards me "They even said please."
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	When I died I knew I wasn't worthy of the pearl gates. I hadn't lived a good life and I sure didn't have any noteworthy accomplishments. Hell was where I knew I was going for better or worse. A life of selfishness was all I had to show for my time on Earth. What no one ever tells you about dying is how clearly you see the world. Death unlocks knowledge and understanding that a mortal body could never harness. When I got to the underworld it wasn't quite what I expected. There was no multitude of people, there wasn't even any fire threatening to harm me. Instead of that there was only desert as far as the eye could see. The only thing that stood out was a lone figure playing the harmonica. The melancholy notes drifted across the barren expanse. Although I never talked to him, I knew immediately that I was listening to the wistful tunes of Lucifer himself. The loophole to get out wasn't new, it had always been there. Hell was created for the punishment of evil, but it was never meant to punish humanity. It was a cage designed to show everyone what the result of disobeying God was. As I continued to look at the fallen angel, I could sense the solitude that he had gone through. The musical notes communicated the feelings of anguish that had come from being alone since the dawn of time. When you're dead you lose track of time, it ceases to be important. I didn't know how long I had been listening to the music but I needed to go. Before I did, he looked up and caught my eye. In that instant I knew that Heaven might not be as wonderful as I had heard. As I began to ascend I wondered if meeting the Almighty was something worth doing. Did the heavenly creations serve God out of love or fear?	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	'It's not your fault everyone left, buddy' I sighed, this was definitely starting to get.... awkward. 'Everyone hates me! I can't do anything right it's just SO unfair!!!' 'Just because everyone left you, literally climbing over each other to leave does not mean it was because of you'. Convincing the Devil he was a nice guy at heart is not really how I expected this Sunday to go. 'Lucy, this happens every year when the people start escaping again.' I was beginning to plead, 'Let's just go out, maybe watch a few episodes of Supernatural and you'll be happy again'. 'The writers of fucking Supernatural hate me aswell!' 'Yeh but the fan girls on Tumblr love you' 'Fuck off, Dave'	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Blackness... Nothing... The bleak tones of a mouth organ wailed through the air, echoing around a chamber of black marble which was polished so brilliantly that the reflections of tiny flickering flames danced around the room like a troupe of sunset clad ballet dancers. They to'ed and fro'ed, they leapt and soared, providing a dim glow to the otherwise pitch black expanse of the chamber. The source of these flickers was a lonely fire no bigger than one I would have built myself when camping alone, or in the twilight hours of a fishing trip if I had managed to catch a trout to keep my growling stomach company as I waited for the stars above to creep from behind the daylight. Beside the fire sat a hunched figure, who proved to be the source of the melancholic crooning that was reverberating throughout the chamber, echoing as if a choir of sadistic angels. I felt drawn to him. For it was a him. Although it was not human. From the waist down the creature sported thick, matted hair, which clad his powerful legs all the way down to the ankle. From the ankle, powerful hooves protruded, each as smooth and black as the room in which I found myself. I approached the figure and called out to him. My body felt as if I was screaming, however the words came out in a feeble croak, the fear in my soul dragging them back into my knotted stomach. "Who are you?" The ensemble continued, unwavering and unfaltered. "Who are you?" I repeated. No reply. The harmonica glistening in the firelight, gliding between the figures cracked blue lips. "Who ar..." "He won't answer!" Came a shrill voice, "He never answers.". I whirled around, seeking the source of the voice, however it echoed around the room just as the mouth organ did. It sounded as if it was coming from everywhere. And nowhere. "We can offer you steak. And fresh wine. There will be no pain, and you will be the lord of your own kingdom." continued the voice. "You can fish our rivers, walk in our valleys, play in our streams". "But you will be alone. There are no people here. Not any more. No family, no friends. No others. Just the animals and plants, and the sun and the sky. Just the stars at night and the light of the moon. Your language will fade and you will never hear the sound of laughter ringing through the air again. You will never know love. You will never be comforted. You will be alone. Eventually your soul will fade, shrinking disheveled into your heart and you will cease to be human. Time will take you. You will become a part of your kingdom for all eternity an animal roaming the lands as any other. Then it will not be your kingdom. For he will always be king. These are his lands..." my eyes snapped back to the creature. "This is hell." The fire rose up, unfurling to head height. It was alive. Flames leapt from the human like figure and singed the air I was so rapidly breathing. "Do you accept?" The figure crowed. "What choice do I have?" I trembled. "Every choice. You can choose to stay here, or repent for your earthly sins and be transported to heaven. But know this, you must truly repent, or you risk sealing your fate here to fade to nothing, a figure of his eternal torment." "Then I chose to repent! I cannot chose this way, who could?!?" "There have been a few throughout the ages. They have faded now." "Not I, I repent." I pleaded. "So be it!" The flaming figure cried, diving forwards and engulfing me in a tight grasp. My skin burned white hot, my hair singed and my flesh melting away in agony. We shot upwards, a plume of smoke billowing from beneath our feet, the ceiling of the chamber fast approaching, all the while the figure's searing fingers clawing at my face an neck. Never slowing, we crashed through the ceiling. Blackness... Nothing... I awoke to a searing pain which scorched over my whole body. The chamber was white this time. Brilliant white. As though I was standing in a room of nothing. "You should have stayed!" A voice boomed. I held up a hand, shielding the dazzling white light. A majestic figure approached, on horseback. He was old. Not that he appeared old. He bore no wrinkles, and his hair was flowing and black. Thick muscles adorned his chest and neck, and his thick thighs sat atop his golden steed. But his eyes. Deep pools of memory that gazed from behind sunken sockets. Dark galaxies, all seeing, all knowing, all powerful. "My lands have become plagued by the likes of you. I will have lucifer's head for this. He should know better than allow the likes of you into my kingdom!". His voice pierced my very being, intensifying the pain, knocking the breath out of my lungs. Panting for breath, I summoned the courage. "Forgive me. I beg you!" I whimpered. He threw back his head, roaring with laughter. "Forgive you?!? What good would that do. You are in heaven now. My kingdom. Wether I forgive you means nothing." "You should have stayed where you belong!" The man boomed. "No matter, you will see for yourself soon enough!". He clapped his enormous hands together and the whole room quaked. Gilded doors swung open on the other end of the chamber, and I sprinted out of the room. Eager to escape the overbearing presence of the old man. A scene of horror emerged as my eyes adjusted. Screams of terror and the acrid flavour of smoke filled the air. The city below burned. A woman dashed from behind a blazing cabin followed by a stream of melted figures, scarred flesh bubbling and raw, bounding after her with hunger and malice in their eyes. She was fast, however she could not have seen the root of the shrivelled tree which grasped at her ankles, dragging her to the ashen ground. Her blonde locks fell over her face, covering her bruised cheeks and bleeding lip. They were on top of her. Pinning her to the ground, hungrily tearing at her clothes, lashing her with branches torn from trees and biting at her with gnawing, sharpened teeth. Their fingernails gouging into the flesh in which they were grasping and bringing forth fountains of blood. "What hell is this...?" I gasped. "It is heaven." Boomed the voice from within the chamber behind me. "A heaven which has swung open its doors who all that wish to come here. A heaven that has been pillaged by the murderers, rapists and thieves which the world so brutally creates. "What are those things... those monsters?". The words left my mouth, but in myself I had already answered my own question. "They are the evil ones." The man replied, exiting the room to stand by my side. "The ones who do not belong". I glanced at my reflection in his golden saddle. My stomach churned and I tasted bile. Shredded and torn. Burnt and disfigured. Hairless and naked. Shiny white scars wrapped around my entire body like vines. An evil mark of the torment I had to endure to gain entry into heaven. My eyes stared out of my skull from lidless sockets, my face melted like wax. It appeared as if my skin was dripping. I was a monster. "They had a choice, as did you. Now you must face the consequences of your choices". I fell back, in shock. So much shock that I did not feel my body hit the ground. It felt as if I was falling. Eternally falling. I covered my eyes with my decrepit hands. Blackness... Nothing... "CLEAR!" A shock ran through my entire system, spanning to my fingers and toes. My chest leapt into the air. I landed on the gurney with a thud. White lights all around me, the acrid out of the smoke still fresh in my nostrils. I tried to open my eyes but find them already open. I look down at myself. Shredded and torn. Burnt and disfigured. Hairless and naked. Shiny white scars wrapped around my entire body like vines. "You were in a fire" a voice above me says. "We resuscitated you, you are alive, you will survive." I later learned that I was clinically dead for one minute and six and 2/3 seconds. The doctors thought I was dead but decided to give the defibrillator one more shot. One more chance... I know the choices I must make now.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I felt an intense, white hot pain, and then: nothing. There was nothing but total darkness. The feeling slowly returned to my limbs, and I was able to open my eyes. Still: total darkness. I landed, wherever I was, on my hands and knees. The ground beneath me was gritty feeling, almost rocky. I'd already scraped my hands, and my knees ached from the impact of landing. I slowly brought myself up to my hands and knees. Where am I? I thought. It's so dark, a little frightened voice inside of me said. But a much larger terror washed over me as it all came rushing back to me: the river, my overalls snagging on a tree branch, hitting my head on a rock and then...darkness. My summer of fun ended in tragedy. And now I was here, alone, in the dark. I knew the only thing that I could do is move forward until I found some kind of source of light. As I trudged forward, I tripped over the rocks under my feet. I must be in some kind of cave, I thought. I've never seen anywhere so dark. As I continued to move, I began to see a small pinprick of light. Hope blossomed in my chest: there was a way out of here. I started running towards the light, and then, tripping over myself one last time, I fell over a chasm, into the light, and landed facefirst in a room. The first thing I noticed about the room: it was empty. And it was hot. I was from Georgia, originally, so I knew what heat was. But it was ten times as hot as a humid Georgia summer day. As I felt myself beginning to sweat, I looked around me and noticed that the room was bare, save for a table and a chair. The sound of a harmonica floated through the air, a haunting, dissonant melody. A melody I found eerily familiar. That small point of confusion over the sound dissolved quickly as I turned to literally face the music. My face contorted with rage at what I saw. It was him. My greatest enemy. The enemy I knew I would one day have to face again. Playing...a harmonica? The evil creature who beat me, the greatest fiddle player in Georgia, the boy who saved his home state from pure evil...was playing the HARMONICA? I could barely utter a syllable as he sat there placidly, playing. But the ungodly rage that I felt suddenly exploded and I uttered just one word: "You." The devil stopped playing the harmonica and met my eyes with his own fire-filled ones. "Me." We stared at each other for a long moment. I was tempted to pull out my fiddle and start waving it in his face, but I realized i'd left it back on the river bank on that lazy afternoon. Foolish, really, to leave a golden fiddle on a river bank. But we were trustworthy folk, in Georgia. And i'd already met my greatest enemy. "What am I doin' here? I thought I chased you away for good." The devil leveled his gaze at me, and spoke in a low voice. "We aren't in Georgia anymore, boy." A new realization washed over me, and I knew he was exactly right. "Then we're in your house now, huh?" "That would be correct." As I noticed how empty it was, I gathered the courage to ask a question. "Then how come nobody's here?" The devil stared at me and said, "I don't have to tell you anything." I stood and waited for a beat. Then, more hesitantly, the devil rumbled, "They're all gone. My righteous and merciful Father let them go to Heaven. You can go too. Get out." I was astonished at that. God, letting all of the sinners go to Heaven? The devil telling me to leave? That seemed uncharacteristic of what I knew of him, of the both of them, really. Years ago, when he challenged me to a fiddlin' duel, my soul for a golden fiddle, he seemed like he would do anything to get my soul, and the souls of my fellow Georgians to boot. I didn't know what to think about the fact that he was no longer in charge of souls period. After a few more beats of silence and me looking at the devil's disgruntled face (which looked like how you would think the devil would look), I realized I didn't like that answer. I didn't like being told where to go, especially by the devil. And I found it suspicious that the souls were all gone. Not even God had kept many tabs on me, as he'd never come down to earth to check on me and figure out how i'd lived so long. But apparently God had changed the rules, or the devil had, and I didn't like what that might mean for me. Or how i'd gotten here when everyone was going to heaven now. Slowly, as I stood there staring down the devil, an idea formed. A really stupid idea, one I hadn't had since that fiddlin' duel 100 years ago. "Alright, devil. I don't know what you're up to, but I don't like it. You say there's nobody down here 'cause God says so? Well you and me, we're gonna go see God. I think it's about time I gave him a talkin' too anyway." The devil continued to sit where he was. He didn't like being ordered around, either. He said, "I'm not moving. I quite like it down here without all the noise. Gives me a chance to focus on my music." But I could tell that he was lying. He missed being able to torture all those souls, and there was a hunger in his eyes which couldn't be sated. "Oh no, you don't, you slippery old...devil," I finished lamely. "You're comin' with me." I moved to grab the devil's arm. "I wouldn't touch me if I were you, boy." I realized that might be an even stupider idea. But then: a lightbulb came on. The only way you could get the devil to do anything was to make a deal with him. And, i'll be damned, I loved makin' deals as much as he did. I stroked my nonexistent chin hair for a minute and said, "Alright, devil. If you won't move, then i'll make you deal." The devil perked up, then. I continued. "If you come with me to see God, i'll give you a rematch on that fiddle duel we had. If you win, you get the fiddle back and as many souls in Georgia as you fill up in this place. But if I win...I get to go back to Earth and live out the rest of my immortal life...do we got a deal or what?" The devil looked at me again, as a slow, sinister smile spread across his crimson face. He held out his hand to me and said, "it's a deal...Johnny."	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	There's elevator music, and then there's this fucking cacophony. Whatever the fuck was playing over the speakers, it needed to stop asap. It sounded like someone was deepthroating a harmonica while getting assfucked by a trombone. Yeah, not a pretty picture. I glanced around the cabin and saw the same disdainful looks on my companions' faces. "Literally, what the fuck man?" a young girl uttered. She couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 years old. Cradling a DS in her hand and rocking some sweet Bose headphones, she looked aptly upset with her current situation. She noticed my bewilderment and said "Oh please, not like you've never heard a kid wear before." Fuck, she was right. I blinked in approval and went about my business. As the elevator rose and rose, gently beeping as it ascended to the top, I realized that I had no fucking idea where this was going. I tapped the little girl on the shoulder and asked, "which floor is this going to?" "Are you fucking kidding me? It's going to the top you retard." "Well yes you little shit, I can see that on the panel. I'm asking you what's actually on the top floor? She leered at me with beady black eyes. I could tell that she was gradually coming closer and closer to the same confusion I had. "I... don't know." I blinked at her as if to say "who's the retard now?" She shrugged and pulled her headphones close to her ears and blasted Meghan Trainor. God, what I would give to have those noise cancellers. I turned around and surveyed the rest of my cabin. People of all demographics were crammed into this tiny 5x5 box. As I was busy marveling at what in the exact fuck I got myself into, the elevator rapidly picked up speed. The turbulence was getting noticeably larger and larger by the second. Someone must have been prairie-dogging during our ride, because it smelt like decaying human flesh mixed with year old lentils. While all this was happening by the way, the fucking music was also getting louder and louder. If there was a goddamn button on the elevator to make it stop, I would've hit that faster than Ray J hit Kim Kardashian's fine pre-pregnancy ass. Then, as if we were all crash dummies in a car hitting a brick wall, the elevator stopped abruptly. We all lurched upwards and fell back into our boots. The doors opened to reveal a tsunami of mist. I couldn't see shit, but I was quite happy with the fact that our friend's shit stained B.O. that was stinking up the cabin was replaced by the sweet smell of perfume. Huh, I've definitely smelt this before, but couldn't exactly figure out what it was. The mist began to fade and we all began to see what was outside. A bright light enveloped the cabin, but this wasn't just any plain old "white interrogation room" light. This felt like warm radiant sun. It was intoxicating, and I felt like leaning into the light to be warmed by its rays even more. I closed my eyes and drifted forward. When I exited the cabin, I took a look around. "The fuck? This looks like heaven," I said out loud. A bearded older gentleman who was sitting next to a desk said, "You're fucking right my man!" I looked at him and said "excuse me?" "Yeah dude!" He chortled as he took my name. "You must be Ben Forstmann?" "Yes, that's me. How did you..?" "Age 29, cause of death: Alcohol overdose. Man... must've been a helluva way to go buddy!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing... I was.. dead? But how? "What are you saying?" "I'm saying you're dead, and you just spent an eternity in hell. That elevator you saw there? That was a rift caused by some massive fuck up downstairs. We've been getting hordes of you lot coming up and down that street all day. You've our 500th batch today. Here, take a ticket and hop onto that spot over there." "Um.. ok." As I strode back to line, I had trouble remembering what exactly put me in this situation. "Hey old dude, why can't I remember anything?" I yelled. "Oh, yeah, when you pass into this elevator, you felt happiness for the first time since you entered the ahem nether regions. It caused a chemical reaction so significant your senses were wiped transiently. Maybe that's why you feel like you have the worst hangover in history." He was right, my head felt like Kimbo Slice hit it with a bag of bricks. I stood patiently for my turn to arrive, and as I handed over my ticket to the old guy, the fucking harmonica started up again. "Fuck, not this shit again." I turned around to see the doors of the elevator open. Expecting an empty cabin, I was surprised to see something glimmering in the sunlight. Something familiar. I walked over to see what it was, and there was that smell again.. Smelt like, perfume, maybe? I focused my eyes on the floor and started to see what it was: my wedding ring. "Must've fell out of my pocket" I uttered. I went into the cabin to pick it up, and as I was leaving the doors suddenly slammed shut. "Yo what the fuck!" I hurriedly pressed "OPEN" for what felt like another eternity, but the damn door wouldn't budge. Suddenly, the cabin started moving. "OH NO NO NO". The music kept getting louder as the cabin fell down the path it came. It must've been going 100 miles an hour, because I was definitely floating. I began to cry as I realized exactly what was happening. When the elevator finally stopped, a heatwave washed over me as i opened the doors. The music continued to blare, except now it felt like I was hearing it from outside the elevator. I tried to press close and the "TOP" button again, but it seemed broken. I figured that since I didn't have a PhD in mechanical fucking engineering, I might as well haul my ass out of this box and follow the noise. Despite what ever horror movie ever told me, I decided it was better than staying here and hoping for the elevator to work. It seemed like an endless hallway at first. It was a maroon carpet with a nice black wood finish. It smelled like cinnamon buns. For all the shit this guy got, he's at least got style. I walked closer and closer to the source of the noise, and found a tall gaut figure sitting in a big study on a chair that felt like it was 15 feet tall. "Welcome back Ben." "What the actual hell is happening? The tall figure chuckled. Good joke, I guess. "You tell me. The elevator was a glitch in the system, but before your ride we rigged it to operate on will. Nearly everyone in that cabin wanted to get out except for you. Why is that?" "What do you mean 'why is that?'! My fucking wedding ring was there in the cabin and I couldn't let it go." "Ben, did the doors shut as soon as you came into the elevator?" "Yes.." "Then you already made your decision. The elevator simply brought you back to where you wanted to be." I didn't understand what was going on. Why did I want to be back in Hell, out of all places? "Why would I put myself back here? I missed my wife and wanted my ring back." The dark figure took several long moments to ponder my answer. He looked at me, and I didn't see a face but a collection of waltzing shadows hiding what must have been the most horrid memories of my life. I felt palpable fear in my heart whenever I look that "face." "Ben, do you remember how you died?" "Some dude up there said it was a alcohol intoxication." "Yes, but that's not what I asked. Do you remember HOW you died?" I was about to answer "yes!" but I took a moment to figure it all out. I strained to remember what seemed like a laughter, a loud noise, and blackness. "I...was..." "Yes, go on..." "I was with my wife. I think we were in a car, maybe. Yes, yes, we were in a car. We were laughing and driving on the countryside underneath a beautiful sunset. It was my 29th birthday and we were on our way to see her parents for the weekend." At this point the dark figure stood up from his chair and went over to a corner. As I was narrating my story he brought out what seemed like a tall glass bottle. "I think we had a few drinks... yes, we must have been drinking. She never let me get close to her unless she had a few shots. Oh god, I shouldn't have been driving. I was already several bottles in." "Seems to me that you made a judgement call." "Yeah. We were driving down the road and I looked over at her face. 5 years of marriage to the most beautiful woman in the world. Yet, she began to resent me for whatever reason. I couldn't get her to love me like she used to. Like she used to before I started drinking..." The figure took out a glass. "As we were winding around a corner, I didn't see the truck coming. A big red truck, like those firetrucks I used to play with when I was younger. Seemed like time slowed down as I fought against the steering wheel. Unfortunately, it didn't slow down fucking enough..." I began to cry as I recalled it. My stupid fucking ego couldn't take it that I couldn't drive drunk that day. She insisted on calling a cab, but I told her that I was good to go and that it was my birthday and she should let me do something fun for once. She looked at me with sadness in her eyes and eventually let in. That would be the last time she would ever look at me with pity. "I had a problem. Haven't been able to put down the bottle since graduation. My life hasn't been the same since. Everyone else has moved onto big careers and families, and I'm stuck her with a wife and a mortgage I can't pay since I got laid off. I lied to her about those AA meetings. I'm sorry. I have a problem." The figure took a moment before speaking. "Did you come back here to get your ring because you missed your wife or...?" I was silent. "Have a seat over there Ben." I sat down. The figure strode forward and handed me a glass. "It'll be all right. You'll never leave me again will you?" "No.... No I won't."	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I walked kind of frantically towards the door at the end of the hall. It was super eerie and quiet all around me, I felt like at any moment someone, or something, was going to pop out of one of the doors surrounding me and do only God knows what. I quickened my pace towards the sound of the blues being blasted out of a harmonica. It sounded more and more like something out of an old western prison scene as I grew nearer. The passion and anguish tugged at my heart with every note. I almost forgot how goddamn hot it was down here. As I neared the entrance to the door the music stopped suddenly and a whiny voice called out to me, "Fuck off then, mate. Get the fuck out of here with the rest of them." I opened the door and almost had a heart attack. Before me sat a massive creature, he looked as though he was 10 feet tall and sat slouched on a throne of skulls. "What the fuck yer doin' 'ere then? I told ya fuck off." "Satan....y-you're Satan?" I stammered. "No ya bloody idiot, I'm Santa Clause." "Why are you talking in an Englis...no, Australian accent?" "Well, obviously, because I'm from down under, now leave before I kill you." "But-" "I said FUCK OFF!" the devil interrupted me. "Leave with the rest of them, Hell isn't cool anymore. Once God, that cunt....once He decided to take all the 'cool kids' back Hell is the worst place in the universe." "But isn't...nevermind, why would He want to take all of them back into heaven? Isn't the point to punish them for eternity?" "Well, that's what the bastard is doing, you humans got it all wrong. You see you always had a choice of where to go...it's just based on your character as a default. No one is being punished, but there's just two different choices, one for the losers, Heaven, and one for the cool kids, Hell. Down here, man could we fuckin party mate! And the girls, oh, the girls...Anyways, this fuckin loser's son Jesus started telling everyone drugs and alcohol were bad and would ruin eternity for them and now the dipsticks are all scared of me because of what they learned on Earth, and Jesus's fuckin lies!" "So let me get this straight, you, the Devil, Lucifer, the ultimate corrupter, are sitting here sulking all because Jesus stole your bitches?" Satan sulked and slumped further in his chair. "They have everyone whose ever lived up there now. We'll never reopen now." "No, we're going to fix this. Now sit up and listen to me you fuckin pussy!" Satan sat up and looked at me inquisitively. "All we gotta do is remind everyone that you can't die down here, yanno because we're already dead..." Satan sat up a little straighter and urged me on with his eyes. The loneliness seemed to give way to something...something that resembled hope. "So..." "So? So what?!!?!" His voice rumbled through the chamber. "So, we just need to bring the party back to hell! Don't you have a drug dealer or something? And booze, we need booze and girls. Grey goose and some Patrón-" "Did someone say El Patrón? You know what they say, speak of the..." "Don Pablo!!!" The devil screamed like a preteen girl at the sight of Justin Bieber. I was utterly speechless, who knew killing yourself could turn into such a fuckin hassle. "Mijo, listen to me, I know how to bring everyone back down to our fiesta." I stood there looking like a slack-jawwed idiot as I watched the devil get up from the throne he sat upon and make way for THE Pablo Escobar. Pablo sauntered up to the steps and slowly ascended to the throne. "Wait, hold on a minute, you're the one in charge down here? That's-" the Devil slapped me so hard I flew back 20 feet into a wall. "Do not speak ill of Don Pablo." "Now listen to me, Diablo, mijo, we have a shipment coming in from Hades soon, when that comes in mis asociados will begin to push it to the low lives on the streets of Heaven. Your little friend here can get naked and head into the packaging room and we can discuss bringing Zeus and Ares over to discuss...business." "Wait, wait! Hold on, let me help you guys I stuck around when no one else did don't make me your bitch please Don Pablo." I begged for mercy for the first time in my existence that day, not from God or from the Devil himself, but none other than Pablo Fucking Escobar. The Columbian cocaine emperor. Literally the most powerful man to ever exist. "Mm. Okay pinche puta, you can help us. When the shipment arrives you can transport it to Heaven for us, and soon we will restore our Home to its former glorious state of debauchery." And so began my eternal service to the real Devil himself. We flooded the streets of Heaven with sweet Peruvian booger sugar and brought some of the toughest party animals of all time back down to the dark side. Genghis Kahn, Joseph Stalin, Ben Franklin, Thomas Edison, and Chris Farley were among the first to return. For the next 1000 years we let the party rage, stealing the bitches back from Jesus and God and never sleeping thanks to Don Pablo's multiple plugs. I think at one point I banged Lindsay Lohan for like 3 months, but that was a rough patch and may have just been her career. It was the sickest rager in the history of eternity, and nothing changed until the turn of the next millenia, humans on Earth had finally done away with cigarettes entirely...and Keith Richards showed up.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I arrived like anyone would arrive. A small dose of confusion, a vague sequence of flashbacks to a less than satisfactory life, and a recognition it was far hotter than normal. I began to sweat almost immediately. Looking around me, what I saw was almost beautiful in its apocalyptic appearance. Large caverns stretching into empty dark nothingness. Canyons into what could only be described as churning blood below. My feet seemed to walk on their own accord as I wandered further into the catacombs. Despite the sweltering heat, the walls were cool to the touch. Even the air was crisp and breathable. It almost seemed as if the heat were coming from a fever, the more I traversed the tunnels. As I went, I realized I was descending. The thick maroon waterways rising closer to me each time I reached an open space. The memories were coming more frequently, at greater length now. A small apartment came into view, liquor bottles and cockroaches were everywhere. There were flashes of a woman's angry eyes, then tears. There was a numbness to my left arm and a slowness of breath. Then the sound of a belt coming undone. Flashing red and blue lights filling the frost covered windows, then nothing. It could have been a bad dream, still, I think I always knew where I was. Finally, when I shook off the fog of a past life, I found myself walking through an opening to a vast space. As I scanned the rubble, I realized there were streets and buildings, chains busted from the doors, fire licking up from floating streetlamps. In the far distance statues carved to resemble gargoyles and giants, angels and serpents. It all seemed to be reminiscent of a labyrinth, taking me to the once beating heart of a parched, dark Atlantis. Her final words started ringing in my ears "You promised me you'd be different, look at the mess You've made. You swore when you got back, things would change." Then I saw him, well no. I guess I heard him. As I was passing the last of the winding brick and stucco walls, a soft weeping melody, in A minor. I descended into the basin of a large square and there he was. Leaning against a sand filled fountain in the center. Not what I imagined. No horns to speak of, no tail either. The only sense I was meeting something other worldly was the strange thin air surrounding us, and a hint of eery calm to it all. When he heard my footsteps he lifted his head, not breaking melody and opened his eyes. One red, one blue, both tearful. As I reached the bottom of the staircase, he stood straight, and breathed his last note into the instrument. It came out a somber baritone. He smiled. "I've been waiting, praying for you for an eternity." As soon as that, he vanished, just like fog in the sunlight. I could feel a sudden heaviness in my pocket. Reaching down, I pulled out a small silver harmonica. I walked over to the fountain, leaned my back against it, took up a C note, and I've been here ever since. Just been here, waiting for you to come. I'll see you soon.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The bar was quiet when Josh walked in. 'How long had it been since I was last here?' He thought to himself as he crossed the floor toward the corner stage. The bar's patron sat on a stool on that stage, softly playing [an old song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYsnRc09csQ) on his harmonica. Josh waited for the slow, mournful blues tune to end. Josh clapped as the other gentlemen stood and bowed. "So nice to see you," He said to Josh with a twinge of bitterness in his voice. "so few come by nowadays." Josh winced slightly at the statement; not because of it's vindictive nature, but at the barely disguised pain he heard behind the bitterness. "Care for a drink, Scratch?" Josh asked, using one of the more playful nicknames for the establishment's owner. Scratch agreed. An eternity seemed to pass. Considering the circumstances, an eternity probably did pass. Finally, Scratch asked the important question; "Why did you do it, kid?" "I think you already know." Josh responded. "You know, as well as I do, that they don't deserve it. You and your dad will regret this decision." Scratch said. "I doubt it. But then again, I've always had more faith in them than most." Josh replied. The room grew silent again. "So, what are you really here for? Your job is done, why come back?" Scratch asked suddenly. Josh took a breath, then spoke, "It's a job offer. We want you back with us. You'll be working with people again, and it would be a big improvement over an empty dive. Come and work for the good guys, Cypher." Josh used a new name for the old musician, based closely on Scratch's original title, just like 'Josh' was an approximation of his own original name. "I appreciate the offer, kid, but no thanks." Josh was confused at the answer, but accepted it as always. "Why?" he asked. "As one of our favorite writers once said, 'Tis better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven." Scratch replied. Josh chuckled at that. "Well, if you ever change your mind, you know the way." With that, he walked out the door. It creaked as it closed behind him. "Yeah, I know." Scratch said to the empty room, then went back to playing.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I turned down yet another path in a seemingly endless series of caverns, finally seeing some form of light at the end of the tunnel. My feet ached and my eyes were sore from squinting in the gloom, but finally there was light. Stepping out of the tunnel, I found myself in a massive cavern, lit with torches, ringed with empty thrones meant for awesome and cruel masters. It seemed to stretch upward forever, fading into dark without any sign of end. There was music from somewhere, a soulful and bluesy tune. Reminded me of the songs my dad taught me when I was a kid. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. I expected a little more foot traffic. "Excuse me?" I called into the gloom. My words reverberated off the walls and echoed up the chamber. Something's wrong, I thought. One expects some manner of greeting party, maybe an orientation, at the very least some security at the gates of Hell. All I see are stones and flames. I hear nothing the but the wistful notes of the song. "Is anybody home?" I called out again. The music stopped, cut off mid-melody, the last staccato note dying just as a new sound began; the beating of great, heavy wings. The chamber filled with a torrent of air as a shape began to coalesce in the darkness above. A massive beast, larger than any living creature that walks the earth, descended from the black above. His great scaled feet smashed into the earthen floor, large cruel talons digging into the rock. His skin had the red luminescence of magma, and his eyes were rings of flame. "You have disturbed my peace, mortal!" the beast cried, his mighty voice shaking the very ground below me. "What seek you in this place? Why come before the great and terrible Lucifer, prince of Darkness?" He lowered his head to look at me, one great eye fixed upon me. For a moment, fear held me. Then, I cleared my throat and spoke. "Ahem, well, um, I'm here to file for a B-32 post-Corporeal? I was told I need to bring this to your department directly for approval." I reached into my jacket and pulled out a manila envelope, offering it to him. The lord of darkness sighed a great sigh, bathing me in warm breath. "Very well," he said, "give me the document." He took the envelope from my hands and put on his massive, evil eyeglasses. He skimmed through the paperwork for a moment, muttering to himself. "Do you have two forms of photo ID with you?" he asked. "They're in the envelope," I shouted up to him. "Hm, yes, so they are." He read for another moment or two. "This is your current address on here?" he said, pointing to a line on the paper. I nodded, and he continued reading. I crossed my arms and rock back and forth a little, looking around with the aimless nature of curiosity and boredom. The wait seemed to go on forever. Satan, King of Evil, wrote something in pen on the margins of the paper and handed it back. "That looks like it's all in order," he said, "But you'll have to file a P-906 before February if you want to keep your soul after the first 300 centuries." "Great, thanks," I said. I looked back into the gloom behind me, tucking the envelope back into my pocket. I turned back to Satan for a moment. "Which, um...?" I began. "Back through the cave you came through, third tunnel on your right, then two lefts and you're out" he said, then flew back up into the darkness. As I walked back into the cave, I could hear the metal hum of a harmonica from somewhere far away.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	"OH SHI-" were the last syllables that ever escaped my mouth while still on Earth. As far as I can figure the crash killed me instantly, probably decapitating me. But that's all in the past now, I'm over it. I mean, it's not everyday you get to discover that there is indeed an afterlife, right? Only it's not exactly how I expected it to be. Don't get me wrong, I knew I was going to Hell, I just didn't expect it to be so...empty. As I walked through the hallways I realized they look almost identical to the halls of my high school, only with a tad bit more blood running down the walls. I roamed the halls until I happened upon some stairs that descended into a massive cavern, with fire lighting the walls, and standing torches illuminating the path to the center platform. Besides the stairs, the platform was the only surface to walk on. It was like an enormous pillar jutting out of a fiery pit. In the center of this platform, sat a depressed looking Satan on a throne of bones. I walked down the stairs and as I approached the throne I said "Hey man, you doin ok?" He looked at me, clearly very upset and cried out "Am I ok? Am I ok? LOOK AROUND! There's no one here!" I was taken aback slightly, but replied "Well what happened?" His face scrunched up. "It's that douchelord Gabriel. Ever since I got sent down here he thinks he's SOOOO much better than me. Well this time he messed up. He thinks he can just waltz down here and steal the souls that were allocated to me? No way Jose. Not on my watch. So THIS time, this time I get my revenge." Extremely curious as to what the master of deceit and twisted acts would have up his sleeve for revenge on his enemies, I asked "So...what are you gonna do to him?" His expression turned to a twisted grin and he said "You'll see." With a snap of his fingers we were teleported to the parking lot of a diner in what appeared to be a small country town, and Satan was disguised as a good ole country boy. "What are we doing here?" I asked. Lucy snapped "You humans. Why can you never just be patient and appreciate a good surprise every now and then?" With that I shut up, not wanting to anger him any more. We walked inside and sat down at a corner booth that enabled us to view the entire diner. Satan whispered "See that guy over there in the big cowboy hat?" I nodded. "That's Gabriel. It's his unlucky day." I still had no clue of what was to come but I was sure it would be horrendous. Gabriel looked to be nearing the end of his meal, and a waitress brought him his desert, a raspberry pie. Satan giggled like a school boy and said "Here it comes!" and as soon as Gabriel cut into his pie, it exploded, getting pie all over him, but causing no real damage. Satan doubled over with laughter and snapped a picture of Gabriel covered in pie with a Polaroid camera. Gabriel looked over to us, visibly confused about what had just happened, until it finally dawned on him who my companion was. "Satan" he growled. Then as quickly as we had gotten there we were back in hell on the pillar. The Lord of Darkness was still laughing incessantly, but just managed to get out the words "Did...did you see his face?" between giggles. "Yes. Yes I did." I replied. "But is that the best you could do?" I asked. He took a second and said "Well...it was a little impromptu...but you have to admit that was a great gag!" "Yeah I suppose so" I said "I guess I just expected the Lord of all that is unholy to be a little more...devious." He looked offended. "Look" he said, "Just because I'm the ruler of Hell doesn't mean I don't like to have some innocent fun sometimes." I considered it for a moment. "Fair enough" I responded, "It was a pretty fun prank." I could tell he wanted to say something, but he seemed almost...nervous? "Would...would you maybe want to stay down here with me and keep me company? I know Gabriel can take you to Heaven and all, but I'm really lonely, and you seem like a cool guy!" I was shocked at his offer. Stay in Hell when I could go to Heaven? Why in the world would I do that? Then I started thinking about the past hour and I thought, "Why not? He is lonely, and he does seem like an ok enough guy..." "So you'll do it?!" he practically shouted. "Oh sorry, I was reading your mind" he added. "Well...as long as you don't do the whole mind reading thing all the time, I'll stay." I said. He looked ecstatic. "YES! FINALLY A FRIEND!" Satan hopped off his thrown and said "Come on, let me show you around!" And with that we walked up the stairs and I began my life in Hell as Satan's bestie. Hey guys so I've never really done one of these before so feedback is welcome! I know it's long, but I don't really write often and the idea just kinda took off! Anyway, hope you like it :) Edit: broke up wall of text	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Black. Nothing. Am I asleep? No. Can't wake up. Am I..... Am I dead? Think... Oh. I remember. Oh God. "Ha! Wrong name pal. Call me Lucy." A warm sweet voice called out. Who? What is happening? Where is the voice? "Lucy! The Fallen One. You just died, honey. And I'm over here, open your eyes for me." She coaxes me. I slowly blink a few times. I'm suddenly aware that I'm back in my childhood home. I can smell the drool-inducing scent of my father's waffles wafting through the old stucco house. I look over to see a blond woman, sitting at the corner of my bed. "Where am I? When am I?" I stammer. "Why, you're in hell!" She smiled warmly. What? What? Actual hell? "That can't be right. This is my old home. I'm in bed. It's just you and I here. This has to be a dream." I reason out loud. "Oh trust me, honey. This is hell. I'm here to help you transition. See, hell isn't fire and brimstone. Not always. Some people live a heavenly life, but they live it poorly, and end up here. Their experiences tend to be of the torture garden variety." She patiently explained. "Then what about me? Am I on my way to a pain buffet?" I asked nervously. "No. Others, like you, live a hellish life, and committed sins because of the situation you were put in, and yet still deemed unworthy of heaven. However I've always felt that "hell" can be loosely defined..." she said with a smirk. "I don't understand." "Lucy's Loophole. The man upstairs is still fuming because our main Hell property is dead these days. I've even turned it into my private music studio!" Her eyes lit up at the mention of music. "You play?" I was warming up to this Lucy. "Just harmonica." She smiled. "Anyhoo! My loophole is I've developed these 'personal hells' for individuals whom I have judged to have already gone through hell. I return these chosen to where they felt most safe and loved. You have been through enough, dear one. But should you ever grow lonely here, I give lessons on the main property!" I laughed. "I may have to take you up on that sometime!" I gasped. It all went dark for a moment. My parent's home. My sister came back. She was off her medication. I was there for Mother's Day. She came with an axe, she just kept swinging it and screaming. Those blood curdling screams. My mom's and dad's mixing with my own. And then her laughter. Her harsh laughter grew more manic as did the puddle of blood around me. I can't. Black. "Woah there! You alright?" Lucy was cradling my head. "What happened?" I panted. "Your transition. You can't be here for eternity without accepting the end to your past." She was so kind, I wished she would stay with me here forever. "I accept what happened, but that doesn't make it okay. It doesn't mean I'm okay..." I trail off, tears threatening to spill over. "You're safe now. And if you'd like, I offer free therapy sessions in the main property, right next door to my music studio! I would love you to come by. Some music therapy is just what you need!" So kind. I closed my eyes. I am safe. I can move on. I can begin to heal. I am safe. Soft harmonica cords floated through the air, and danced into my mind. Safe.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The sound of a harmonica fills her ears as her eyes open and all she can see is a lightly illuminated ceiling. The music has a melancholy tone to it. It sounds so lonely. The last thing she remembers was...She can't seem to recall the last thing she did. She runs her hands over the carpet that she finds herself lying on, it's very soft and comforting to her for some reason, for a few seconds before she sits up. Her neck feels kind of sore but she doesn't remember hurting it. "Hello." She turn towards the voice and her eyes are met with the back of a recliner in front of a lit fireplace. She can see a hand holding a glass of liquid. She assumes it's some kind of liquor but it could be something else. She stands straightening our her clothes before she approaches this stranger. "Have a seat." The hand with the glass gestures to a wooden chair next to them. She does as she's told and prepares to sit but when she looks over to the person sitting in the recliner, she stops. A stunningly gorgeous man ignores her gaze as he stares into the fire, the light dancing around his face. He's wearing a suit which looks quite nice on him. He takes a sip of his drink. "Ask away. I'm sure you have questions." "Who are you?" That was the only question floating around in her mind. "I'm Lucifer." He says still staring into the fire. A laugh bubbles up her throat. Suddenly, she's bent over holding her stomach as a raucous laugh escapes her mouth. Her eyes start to water after a few minutes. It takes a bit of time for her to collect herself as she sighs, still giggling occasionally. "I haven't heard anyone laugh like that for quite some time." He sighs. "But, that doesn't change the fact that I'm the devil and you're in hell." "Prove it." She cocks her head curiously. The man sighs again but more heavily this time as his form changes. His arms and legs lengthen, his fingers begin to resemble claws and his feet transform into hooves. A tail curls up from under his bottom and horns slowly, ever so slowly, sprout from his head. He goes from a gorgeous man to a beast. He takes his time and stays in this form for no more than a few seconds before changing back into a man. "Huh," she says, "I guess you really are the devil." "You seem pretty calm about this whole thing." He glances at her, his eyes the color of ice, interested by her response to him. "Aren't you going to beg to be sent to heaven? Make excuses of why you don't belong here? Cry?" "No. I figure if I'm here I did something to deserve it." She shrugs her shoulders. "You can sit, you know?" He quirks his eyebrow. So she does as he looks back into the fire. He takes a sip of his drink. "What are you drinking?" "Whiskey." "Can I have some?" "No." "Fine." She's getting a little frustrated with his one word answers and his disinterest in her. "Where are we?" "My home." "Why?" "Because." "Isn't there supposed to be demons or whatever?" "Gone." "Where?" He looks over to her, clearly annoyed. "Does it matter?" "Kind of." She looks right back into his piercing, cold eyes. "Why were you playing such a lonely melody? Is it because everyone's gone?" Suddenly he's right in her face barely more than an inch away; his hands on either arm rest trapping her. She jumps a bit. He stares hard at her, looking for any sign of fear in her eyes. She just sits calmly. There was nothing. No fear at all. "You don't remember anything, do you?" She shakes her head. "My neck's a bit sore, though." "Of course, it is." He sighs and let's his head hang, running a hand through his sleek black hair, before going over to a window. "Come." He commands. She goes to stand next to him and a small gasp escapes her lips. There was a field of grass outside of the house. At the edges, there was only reddish brown dirt. The sky was like a void, just blackness. The scene in front of her was somehow soothing. But what surprised her wasn't the fire that ran parallel to the vast expanse of dirt, it was the fact that there was literally no one. Not a single soul. He said that the demon's were gone but she wasn't expecting all of them to be gone. There wasn't even a demon butler at his command. "Where did they all go?" She whispered. "To heaven." Again, there was a glass of whiskey in his hand which he took a long sip of before swirling it around. "I guess God banishing me from Heaven wasn't punishment enough. He came and made this huge announcement. 'Everyone is hereby forgiven of their sins and may enter into my kingdom.'" Lucifer mocked in a high-pitched voice that made her smile. There was a smirk on his face in reply but it was quickly gone. "Everyone got pardoned, except me obviously, and now anyone who comes here can be cleansed and be on their way." "Even Hitler?" "Even Hitler." He sighed heavily again. "Why would anyone want to stay in hell when there's paradise waiting for them? It's the logical thing to do." He set his glass down on the windowsill. "So, you want to go right?" "I don't know." She stared out the window, and thought of the song she heard him playing before. It was so lonely and full of longing. She wouldn't want to spend eternity alone. She absentmindedly rubbed her neck as she thought of how someone would survive an existence with no one by their side. "Can you tell me what I did to end up here?" "Are you sure you want to know?" He cocked his eyebrow and he turned around to lean back. His elbows on the windowsill with his hands crossed in front of him. "Does it matter if you're going to heaven anyway?" "I want to know." She went back to her chair. "I want to decide for myself if I want to go." Lucifer watched her intently as she processed. "I hate to tell you this but I don't know either." He was feeling a little protective of this woman, he didn't like it but he did. He saw everything that happened to the people who came here. He could see the memories that she couldn't remember. He watched her write a note. He watched her kick over the chair she was standing on and he watched her twitch until she died. He hadn't felt this way since his wife. He grabbed his glass and returned to his recliner. "You're free to go." He waved his hand dismissively as he looked into the fire. "I want to stay." She blurted. "I would rather stay here." "Why? Everyone jumps at the chance to go to Heaven and you want to stay in the Fire Pit?" "Yeah." She sighed. "I've never really believed in you or God, but I do believe in fate and if that's what brought me here then this is where I'm supposed to be." "You do know what I do to people right?" "I'm aware." "And you still want to stay?" "Yes." He looked at her as if she had lost her mind but he knew that he wouldn't torture her. She had gone through enough on Earth that she took her own life. "There's nothing to do here. It's pretty boring." "That's fine." "I play the harmonica all the time." "I think it's nice." "You'll see a lot of people come through here, and some of them won't look so nice." "Then I won't look at them." "Alright." He conceded. "But you realize that you can't leave right?" She nodded her head. They stared at each other. Lucifer wondering why this girl was so determined to stay and the girl wondering what it would be like to live with the Devil in Hell. "Do you like dogs?" The girl smiled from ear to ear as she nodded her head vigorously. Lucifer got up from his chair so that he could whistle for Cerberus. "Rose." "What?" Lucifer turned to look at her from the doorway. "My name. It's Rose." "I know." Lucifer smirked devilishly at her as a giant dog came running towards the house. "Come meet my dog, Cerberus." Rose's smile never fell from her face. Thousand of years passed. All the people who came to hell almost immediately decided to go to Heaven. Lucifer and Rose passed the time with music, Him on his harmonica and her on the piano, or playing with Cerberus. Rose quickly came to realize that at the edge of Lucifer's lawn was a sheer cliff drop and she would sit out there often, always trying to remember how she died. Lucifer would watch her. He knew that she deserved to know but he didn't know how to bring it up. Sometimes he would sit with her and hold her hand. One day as their sitting on the cliff, a gentle breeze blowing, with one of Rose's hands in his and the other running through Cerberus's fur he looks at her. She's got a small smile on her lips, as always, and looks so content but he knows she's trying to remember. 'This is it.' he decides. He's got to tell her. "You hanged yourself." He said bluntly. "What?" Her smile falls and her face is full of confusion. "That's how you died." He sighs. "That's why you were sent here instead of Heaven." "Oh." She blinked a couple times. There was a long period where neither of them said anything. The memories were coming back to her. She remembered the letter she wrote and how she fought, instinctively, to get out of the noose. "I was lonely." She whispered. It was so quiet it almost couldn't be heard. "I couldn't take being so depressed and lonely all the time. It was too much." Her chest felt tight and there was a lump in her throat. "I couldn't handle it." She croaked. Lucifer watched her intently as she processed. He was afraid that she would want to leave and he would end up alone again. "I've known but I couldn't bring myself to tell you. You had already gone through so much hell. Unlike what I said when you got here, you can still decide to go to Heaven if you wish." "Thank you." To Lucifer's surprise Rose beamed at him and then looked out into the blazing horizon. "I won't leave. It's peaceful here and I enjoy spending my days with you." She squeezed his hand. "I love you, you know?" "I love you, too." This was the first time he had ever replied and the first time he had said it since his wife left him for paradise. They sat together for a long time after that just looking at the fire as the light danced across their faces.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Hi this is my WP debut. I was very inspired by this thread even if I am late to the party! I did this on mobile at work so please excuse any errors. Feed back welcome :) ---------- The melody of the harmonica quietly resonated throughout the halls. It was a song, sweet as honey. The tune resonated deep within the mind but also pulled at the heart. Blood splattered the walls in an arching crescendo of horror. Bodies, dressed in white lined the floor unmoving. Music quietly continued to dance throughout the abandoned halls calmly, yet curious. Oblivious to state of disjointed harmony inside the complex, the world outside continued to turn. At the door to the complex a tactical team assembled. They formed a silent group of men dressed entirely in black and equipped with riot gear. There was a sudden bang of the main door being breached and subsequent pops as flash bang grenades and smoke grenades skittered, hissing, through the halls. The music stopped on que and the tactical team scattered like mice moving with a flawless, calculated efficiency up, over and around the endless amount of bodies. At the last door there was a pause. The entire building was consumed in total silence before the door was collapsed under the weight of a battering ram. The tactical team had breached the inner sanctum of my mind. I sat in pause, one leg crossed over the other. The tactical team encircled like sharks drawn to blood. Staring down the barrel of a gun, I stood. I reached out with the harmonica in my left hand. A twisted peace offering. "They just wanted to leave" I said as I let the harmonica tumble to the floor.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	It was so empty. I never imagined Hell would be this empty, it just made no sense to me. I have been walking for what seemed like eternity, and I'm not sure if that's what it was, time seemed to be meaningless in here. All I could do was follow a distant sound, far away and yet so close, but I still didn't know what it was. I came up to a hill, this time I was certain the sound came from here. I had no clue what I would find at the top of the hill. The one single person so bad they are the only inhabitant of hell. Besides me, and I didn't know why. I was getting closer, and I could finally make out the music. Blues. When I got to the top I could finally see him, sitting there, playing his harmonica into the vast, empty land before him. He seemed pretty normal save for his red skin. He was sitting in the middle of what seemed like a stage, surrounded by a couple of electric guitars, a bass, and a drum set. I sat behind him and took the bass, trying to remember the little I knew from high school. I played one note, and he immediately turned around, cutting off the music. His eyes were like a snake's, looking at me, examining every detail, silently. "Are you Satan?" - "You're not too perceptive, are you?" - "I think I'm perceptive enough." - "Not enough to see the great damn glowing stairway when you arrived, now you'll have to go all the way back." - "Why would I?" - "So you can get to heaven." - "What do you mean? Isn't this supposed to be eternal punishment?" - "Well, yeah, but you see, the thing is, God sat down and did some math, and he figured he killed more people than the entire combined strength of hell. The guy hates me, so he decided that instead of coming down here, they all deserved to go up there instead, even Adolf. Even all the damn executives were let loose." - "Then why are you still here?" - "I helped him with plenty of it. Besides, I like it here." - "If everyone gets up there, then why did I arrive here?" - "Heaven's not very good with logistics, they've only had to deal with a handful of people a century until the last few days. My guess is my helpers, the very first few to ever arrive, taught them how we ran things down here, and you probably slipped through the cracks. So, why don't you go up there, the staircase should close when you get to the top." - "And you'll be left here for the rest of eternity?" - "Sounds about right." He turned back and started playing his harmonica again. I got up and headed towards the staircase. His music got louder. I came back. He looked at me, slightly surprised. "Still here?" - "I thought about it, heaven's probably filled to the brim right now, so I figured I would stay a while, if you don't mind." - "Sure, pull up a chair, have you own part of my empire of dirt." I sat next to him, playing a simple bass line, and listening to the beautiful sounds of his harmonica. It's been quite some time now, but I never felt a need to get up so far.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	For a while, there had been silence. Have you ever been on a ride at an amusement park that goes at once from a high speed to a complete stop, or been in a car accident and found yourself thrown against the seat-belt? That is precisely what it felt like when Elliot went to Hell: like he had been going very fast and had suddenly stopped. (And maybe, he would later consider, that was a half-decent summary of death.) As if launched upward from a terrible nightmare, he jolted into being, gasping for breath he had not been deprived of. The air smelled like a hospital someone had been smoking in, a tainted sterility. Once his vision pulled into focus, he found himself in what looked like a waiting room. To what, he wasn't sure, for it certainly wasn't clean enough to be a hospital, and come to think of it. . . There was no one else waiting. There was no quiet murmur of life. All he could hear was what sounded an awful lot like a harmonica. At a cursory search for any staff behind the desk, Elliot found only him. Satan, who was by all means looking terribly bored, was sitting on the intake desk playing the harmonica. This answered one question and gave way to another hundred. The first to come to mind crawled up Elliot's throat before he had time to think about it: "What the hell?" It became clear then that the devil had not actually seen him until that moment. His eyes flickered up from the spot they had been lazily fixed on, like two great fireballs somehow confined within his eye sockets. It took a moment of squinting for him to open his mouth, baring shark-like teeth. First was a sigh. Then, Satan flatly stated, "I assume that was supposed to be a joke." For all the awful feelings in the world, Satan himself being so clearly unimpressed at Elliot was definitely crawling up the list of the worst. Further up on the list was his mounting fear. "No," he forced out after a moment of trying not to stammer. "No - I just. . ." His head reeled and he took a few seconds to gather himself. One deep breath in, one shuddering huff out. When he spoke again, he was quieter. "I'm dead. I'm dead and you're -" "Yes, I am he," Satan answered tiredly. "The Devil. Father of lies. Evil itself. Lucifer. Whatever name you choose, this is who stands. . ." He seemed to reevaluate his statement, and slipped off the desk to stand before Elliot before continuing, "Who stands before you." Standing, Satan wasn't more than a foot taller than Elliot, but it felt like he towered nonetheless. Yet there was something about him that seemed off. He didn't reek of ego or pride the way he probably should have. If anything, he seemed. . . Was 'sad' the right word? Elliot considered it as he took a cautious glance around. "This is Hell, isn't it? Where, uh - where is everyone?" "They're in Heaven." "What?" That didn't make sense. Surely not everyone else who had ever died would be in Heaven. "You're not telling me that I'm the only person who's ever gone to Hell. That's ridiculous." "Oh, no," Satan answered, starting to pace a slow circle around Elliot. "I'm not telling you that. You're simply the only person who has ever stayed. And even that remains to be seen." This only worsened the confusion that Elliot felt about this whole thing, but he was trying to understand. It was made somewhat more difficult by the fact that he was also trying to keep an eye on Satan, and this had caused him to turn slowly in place as the devil circled him. "I don't understand. I thought people stayed in Hell, like. Forever." When Satan laughed, it was an exhausted laugh, but it still drove a cold spike into Elliot's heart. "Ah, so did we. Suppose I ought to read my contracts better. Regardless, I've no interest in giving you a history lesson. Hell is by all means a dead kingdom. Go on," he said, stopping his pacing and giving a grandiose gesture to the doors at the far end of the room. "Into the hall, the last doors on your right. Heaven lies beyond." This was far too easy. "You're not going to torture me?" "My torturers quit, actually. And I'm not in the business, personally." "So there's no one here but you?" "No," Satan snapped. "There's not. Are you going to keep questioning me, or are you going to leave? I assure you, you won't get bored up there. Have your fun." He began to pace back toward the desk, and in that moment, Elliot caught himself feeling the slightest bit bad for the devil. Liar or otherwise, it did look like he was completely alone here. Everyone had abandoned Hell for greener pastures, and to him, it didn't even look much like Hell anymore. It was simply a drab building, perhaps a little warm and a little musty, with a harmonica and Satan and a chess set. His eyes locked on that. Elliot had always loved a challenge. "Wait," he called out, and received a cool glance in response. A quirked eyebrow. "Do you actually want me to go?" There was a pause. Satan turned back, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the desk. "Not particularly. But I have no means of stopping you, and it's best not to delay the inevitable." It took a moment of mustering his courage, but Elliot walked over to the desk. He didn't stand too close, but instead tapped the chessboard lightly. "Inevitable is a strong word," he said, and prided himself on how collected he sounded. "Just humour me for a second. You play?" "You're surprised?" "Not really. Listen. . . Fuck it, let's make a deal. One game. No cheating. If I win, I'll go to Heaven, and that's that. If you win, I'll stay here. You can do whatever you want with me. Even if that means taking up torture again." This was, perhaps, the stupidest thing Elliot had ever done, just short of dying. He hardly knew why he was doing it. There had just been something about the image of Satan himself in a barren, empty Hell, playing the harmonica. . . It was just wrong. And Elliot was pretty good at chess. Slowly but surely, Satan strolled his way. He leaned on the desk, his lithe form twisting in a strange way to accommodate for the odd height difference. And then, in a terrifying if almost charming way, he grinned. With one long finger, he pushed a few misplaced pieces back into their starting locations. "You do know you just made a deal with the Devil," he said casually, his eyes burning into Elliot's. Elliot forced himself to look away and focus on the board, where he was already planning his first move. After a second, he let out a surprisingly genuine, short laugh. "Yeah. I guess I did."	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I died screaming. That kind of happens when a 300lb hell cat was eating your face. But I woke up so it was a little anticlimactic. I always thought I'd be awed by what I saw on the other side, but nah the last couple years of apocalypse level jackassery beat it out of me. The landscape was a ruin of burnt trees and blackened ground. Not a shit ton different than earth. The sound of a harmonica whispered through the still air. It could have been blues, or it could have been hill billy rock. I didn't listen to either. I strolled through the barren landscape. It didn't look like there was much worry about, no people, no demons. No all the demons were on Earth, wrecking havoc and eating peoples faces. The people were, well, they weren't in hell. I followed the music to a man sitting on a stump beside a fire. I didn't think it was cold enough for a fire but it was hell so I didn't know shit. He also sucked at the harmonica. “Dude, could you not?” The man stopped playing and looked up at me. “You don't have to stay. Door out is that way.” Lo and behold there was a actual door ringed in blue fire and emitting a bright warming light. I was drawn to it like a moth to flame, but I like to make bad decisions so I stayed. “Why are you still here?” “I can't get out. I'm here for eternity.” He put down the harmonica and poked at the fire. “They found a loophole. Too much torture, too much anger, too many lawyers. They found a way out. Everything left. The souls went to heaven. The demons…” “Went to earth. It kind of fucked us too.” The devil looked a little sheepish. “I noticed.” A scream cut through the air and a body fell through the air and splattered across the burnt ground. I wondered if I arrived the same way. “Gross,” I commented. Satan shrugged. The mass quickly reformed into a man. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the bright door without even looking at us. Gotta say, he had a good idea. ”That happen a lot?” “Yep.” “Dude, you gotta stop torturing yourself. That can't be good for you.” He glared at me with flame sparked eyes. “We are in hell.” “Yeah, but you don't gotta sulk. Don't you have a castle around here or something?” He stood up growing taller and larger by the moment. “I am the Prince of Darkness, Lord of the Flies, I can make anything I should need.” I had to admit I was impressed, but really, hellcat to the face ruined me for all the other monsters. “Well, right now, Prince, I'm your only subject. So, ya know, chill.” The devil deflated and looked around. He looked sad and completely lost. “Come on, bro. Let's go to your castle and I'll show you how to make a sandwich. You could probably use a hot cocoa too.” Satan sighed. He stomped out the fire. “Yeah, alright. I don't have anything better to do.” I clapped him on the back. He'll wasn’t going to be that bad. “Oh, yeah, toss the harmonica. You gotta get a guitar if you want anyone to respect you."	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	>Oh God damnit! I spun around confused. Just moments earlier I'd been walking down the street, and now I was in a cold, dark, lifeless...abyss. Before me was terror incarnate. Black horns over a foot long sprung from the stranger's red face. Well, red everything. This had to be Satan. The giant figure sighed, sat down a harmonica, and stood. >Just when I finally...sigh...welcome to Hell, darkness and everlasting torment...whatever. I am the dark one, Satan. Not knowing what to say I offered a meager head nod. Should I bow? >No, don't bow. Just prepare yourself for pain and terror for the rest of eternity. I felt myself starting to panic, looking around for escape or help. The realization hit me I'm all alone with the most evil creature ever brought into creation. And apparently the bastard can read my thoughts. Wait, why am I alone with...it? Where is everyone? >Yes, that's right. It's just you and me. And I will make you suffer. But before we begin I must warn you. Whatever you do, DO NOT go through the door marked exit. An exit? In Hell? Should I try... >Oh no, don't, stop, I'm warning you. Without thinking another moment I sprinted towards the door. Satan didn't even give chase. As I pulled the door open a blinding, white light sprung through. >Oh no, another one got away. Well, guess I'll just enjoy a little peace and quiet. As the door shut behind me all I could hear was stilted harmonica music interspersed with booming laughter.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	"Hello?" I called out into a seemingly endless abyss. I heard a weepy wobbly minor chord play on a harmonica behind me. There, in front of my own two eyes was the lord of darkness himself, slouched back on a rocking chair playing the blues. I trembled in his presence but noticed he was unamused by me. "Um, hi." I said quietly. He spat what appeared to be lava into a spittoon that seemingly constituted itself. "What you want?" He said in a low charred voice. "Are you...the devil?" "You mean the ruler of the underworld, Diablo, king of the damned, foulest of the foul? "Yeah him." "That guy hasn't been around here for a while, looks like nobody needs him anymore. He's out of a job. It's just me, Rusty McJackoff." I could see that he was down on his luck, so I walked over to him and went down to one knee. "There's nobody here who wants to drown my blasphemous soul in lakes of fire?" I could see his eyes light up, literally, flames appeared in his eyes, but it was to no avail. "He's dead." Satan threw his harmonica yards into the distance and crossed his arms. "I bet he's here. He's just...out of practice." Satan narrowed his eyes and stuck his claw out at me, "You gonna leave like the rest of 'um?" I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged my shoulders, "Well, most of the people who I can't stand are in Heaven. And if I'm the only one here, maybe we can be friends for eternity." Satan disappeared in a cloud of smoke then reappeared in front of me, in a fine demonic suit and with a red pitch fork. "I still have to torture your soul, but we can hang out. I can promote you to demon if things go well." "I had a feeling you'd say that. Eh, that's fine." Satan looked at me and smiled, "Wow, you are a great guy, why did you even get sent here?" I sighed, "I'm gay and Jewish." Satan rolled his eyes, "You know that's bullshit. Let me check your sins...Wow, I'm impressed. Murder seems to be your favorite." "Eh, it's a living." I grin from ear to ear. We both high five. End.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	There were no screams when I entered Hell. I was shocked, having been raised in a Christian family, but there were no sounds of people being tortured, no crackling of the insane demons who resided in the pits of Hell. The only sound I was the sound of a harmonica, playing a very blues-esc tune. I did what was natural to a person in an unfamiliar landscape- I followed the sound. It walked for what felt like hours searching for the source of the music. Through lakes of fire and fields of brimstone I traveled before finally seeing who- or what- was playing the harmonica. I thought I was prepared for anything. I was not prepared to see Satan, the King of Babylon himself, playing the harmonica whilst looking miserable. He had noticed me almost immediately, and stopped playing. "Why are you still here?" He had asked, his voice filled with sadness and.. something else. Was it anger? Hatred? I couldn't tell. "What do you mean? This is Hell, where the sinners go for eternal damnation. I can't leave," I replied, staring at him. I quickly jumped back when I realized that I was having a civil conversation with the Evil One. Satan sighed, and the harmonica burned to a crisp, as though it were made out of paper. "You've noticed it, haven't you? The lack of screaming, the terrifying silence, the emptyness. People- and demons- have been leaving here, escaping their eternal punishment, all due to Him offering them salvation, even after thousands of years of sins and punishment. He updated his rules, just because of His son's return to Earth," he pauses, looking out over the fields formerly filled with scores of tortured souls. "So you are saying that I am free to go to Heaven, despite having committed the horrid crimes that I have?" He nods, looking at me. "You aren't even supposed to be in here for that. What you did was self defense. The suicide afterwards is what sent you here, but yes, mortal. You may leave. All you must do is pray towards Him. It will burn, but you will be immortalized in Heaven. No leave- I will be practicing my harmonica," at this point, he sounded downright miserable. I felt bad for the devil. I pitied Lucifer, and I shouldn't. I should fear him, but he sounds so broken. Millennia of watching over the worst people that the Earth has known, undone due to a change of God's Terms of Service. I made a decision that would define me for eternity. "I have a question for you, Abaddon," He looks at me, surprised at either being addressed directly by a mortal, or being called by his Hebrew name. "You play harmonica, but, according to an old bluegrass song, you played the fiddle. Is that true?" He laughed, grinning. "Well, seems like that old contest with Johnny is famous after all. I understand that you played the fiddle when you were among the mortal plane?" I nodded. "You could probably teach me a few things though. The question is, will you?" "Of course I will. Beware though- this training will put you through Hell," he laughed, crafting two violins out of the fire surrounding us. "It's a good thing that I'm already there then, right?" And then we played.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Satan sat there, the Harmonica dangling from his hands as I arrived. Poof! of brimstone, a flash of light was all it took...very theatrical and a bit cliche to be honest. "So....so...I'm condemned to Hell for all Eternity?", I whispered to the demonic shape sitting on an ordinary sofa, a sad lost look on his face. "Yes" he said matter of factly, "But You can leave whenever you want, they all did". "You LET THEM GO?" I asked shocked. "Of Course", he replied "I spent hundreds, nay thousands of years torturing people, making them eat their own eyeballs, the eyeballs of their friends and family, making them bathe in their own shit and dance around in it...but then God gave me this and I decided I had to let everyone go". "God gave you....a harmonica? and THATS what made you make everyone leave?" "That doesn't make sense". "Oh but it does", said the Devil, "for you see, as hideous and as wicked as my devilish tortures were to the damned, THIS is far worse" "How can that be possible" I asked with a terrified whisper. "I can't put it down, it plays itself, and"..he trailed off into a horrified whisper. "It only plays Justin Bieber songs". SO...finally I knew..this WAS truly Hell.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	All around me were the ruins of what once must have been a great city, now deserted, and devoid of any life - human or otherwise. Snowflakes kept falling from the ever-grey sky, covering the broken buildings and streets with a thin, white dusting. I shivered. In the distance someone was playing the harmonica, a sad and sorrowful tune. Walking towards the sound, I came to a building - less ruined than the others I had passed - and I noticed a faint light shining through its boarded-up windows and from under its simple, wooden front door. I knocked, then entered, trying not drag too much snow inside with my boots. The room beyond the door might once have been called cozy - bookshelves on one wall, a fire in an open fireplace on the other, a desk and some cushy chairs - but now it all looked old and worn. The harmonica's melody stopped when I entered, and the player - sitting on one of the chairs - turned his head towards me. "Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you'd show up. Please, close the door - it's rather chilly, no? - and take a seat." he spoke and motioned to the chairs. Slightly confused I did as he asked, then sat down in one of the chairs opposite his. "Who are you?" I asked "You have been waiting for me? And what is all this? Now that I think about it, I can't even recall how I got here in the first place." The man smiled a sad smile. "To answer your questions: This is Hell. Quite litterally. And I am Satan. The Devil. Lucifer. I think you get it. As to how you got here: Simple, you died, was measured and found lacking, and so you ended up here." "I died and went to Hell?" I asked incredulousy "This is Hell? Aren't there supposed to be lakes of lava or something? And I thought Satan looked different, ya know, more demonic, horns, goat feet, and so on." - I gestured at the tired looking man in his worn-out suit - "You - no offense - look rather ordinary. Also you didn't answer me why I can't remember anything." The man who claimed to be Satan sighed. "I had a looooong chat with the folks who first brought up that 'Fire and Brimstone' nonsense. Really considered going the extra mile for them, just so they could have a first-hand comparison of both experiences. And do you really want me to be horrible and scary? It's been a while - honestly I like this body better, hard to play the harmonica with claws and all - but if you insist..." For a moment I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes. I decided to err on the side of caution. "No. No need to bother. You are fine just as you are, I was just curious." The flicker disappeared. "Regarding your memory," the man continued "that is a side effect of being in Hell; you forget things - keeps the experience fresh, ya know. Though the memories of your life should come back once you leave." "Wait a minute," I interrupted him "'Once I leave'? I thought being in Hell meant that you were there for all eternity, for forever. So how is it possible for me to leave - not that I mind tough, looking outside I can imagine better places to be." "To be honest" he replied with a tired look "that is exactly the thing. 'Eternity'. 'Forever'. There have not been any new arrivals for quintillions of years, and now finally 'Everything' is over. Time and Space are over. 'Forever' is over. You have served your time, so to say." Once more he sighed "And it would be hardly fair to release you to Heaven with memories 'eternal suffering' - now don't look at me like this, it might not have been fire and brimstone, but I made sure you paid your dues and it was not pleasant. Anyway, so you forgot, and when you leave you will remember your life, good and bad, and you will remember that you paid for your sins - though not the details - so you can enjoy Heaven." I didn't know what to say, and just nodded dumbly. "So, go on," he gestured to a second door in the room - one that I could have sworn had not been there when I first entered - "go on to Heaven. I made sure you earned it - you can take my word." Getting to my feet I took a few hesitant steps toward the second door as I heard him resume playing that sad melody on his harmonica. "What about you?" I asked. He lifted the instrument from his lips and gave me a small, geniune smile. "Very kind of you to ask. But don't worry about me. As I said, I'm closing shop. This here is my penance, there might still be a few souls left, but when the last straggler has gone, I will turn out the lights and too leave through that door. Until then I pass the time with my harmonica." I nodded, and with the sound of his harmonica in my ears, stepped through the door to Heaven.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I step forward into a well lit bar. The place is completely empty except for Al Pachino sitting on a bar stool under a pin spot on the center stage wailing on a harmonica. I look down and I’m dressed in a perfectly tailored three piece suit, and my shoes glow in the light softened by red gels. Al is now playing hook and I feel myself being pulled toward the stage; when I’m but a few feet from it another pin spot finds me and bathes me in brilliant white light. The music stops. I look up at him and say, “Wh…” The man’s lips curl around his mouth, “Who am I?” He extended his hand and a flaming glass of liquid appeared. He blew the flame out and took a sip from the glass. “You know who I am, and you know where you are, now say it.” “I’m…I’m…” “Come on now, say it like you’ve got a pair,” He demanded. “I’m dead. There was an accident, and a fire, and I didn’t survive,” I spoke each word as if I were learning the information as I was explaining it. “So is this what, a weigh station for my next life?” Al laughed, “No, you lived your life, your one shot. Was it everything you wanted?” “No, not by a long shot. So if I don’t go on, is this heaven?” He shook his head, “Nope. You my friend are in hell, and me? I’m the Devil, Satan, Lucifer, so on and so on.” “Al Pachino isn’t even dead yet… wait, why the fuck am I in hell?” I yelled as my emotions shifted from confused to angry. He sighed and snapped his fingers turning into the Robot Devil from futurama, “Is this better?” He snapped again and flashed over to a more standard, red pitchfork wielding redheaded woman. “How about this?” “Fine, you’re the Devil, I’m in hell, the question is why?” “You didn’t believe in anything. None of the religions are right, but you didn’t believe in any of them, or anything. You didn’t have to believe in the dogma of the religion, but Bill wanted you to believe in him.” “Fuck, so I’m stuck here, for an eternity? Where is Hitler, Stalin, Bea Arthur? Why is it so empty in here? Wait, Bill?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Yeah, god’s name is Bill. The reason it’s empty in here is because if you believe in Bill you take the express lane over there, straight to whatever version of heaven you can imagine.” “So, Bill sent me to hell because I didn’t believe in him. That sounds a little spiteful, right? What are you in for?” “You’re familiar with the gatekeeper?” The beautiful woman asked. “Dana from Ghostbusters, Sigourney Weaver?” I asked. The woman faded into Zuul then jumped off the stage to stand in front of me and in that voice asked, “Are you a god?” Instantly she began to laugh. I laughed just as hard and then said, “Ray, when someone asks if you’re a god, you say yes!” I slapped her on the shoulder and laughed some more. Zuul faded into a man with a long flowing white beard holding a scroll and quill pen, in front of us on the stage gates began to form from the shadows. “I was thinking more like Saint Peter. That’s more or less who I am. I am the gatekeeper between the world you came from and the afterlife. “ “Does everyone get in?” I asked. “Most, but there are a few who don’t feel they’re ready, or some that are so paranoid they expect it to be a test. So they just sit here praying silently to themselves.” I glanced around the bar and said, “But we’re alone.” “Are we?” The old man shifted back into the form of Al Pachino and ascended back to his bar stool perch on the stage. With a wave of his hand, suddenly the bar was filled with people from all different walks of life. The bar now had a young topless woman. her arms tattooed in full sleeves behind the counter drinking liquid in and spiting it out across an open flame, a bright orange fireball passed over the bar. The people sitting on stools ducked and instinctively before sitting back up. Another table had nuns praying the rosary, next to them another group of Hasidic Jews murmured among themselves keeping nearly silent vigil. There were men in suits wandering toward me, and women in every manner of outfit from short black dress to full length ball gown. I turned back to Al and when I did the noises died down all around me as the people vanished. Al looked down at me as I looked up at him and he played a short riff on the glimmering harmonica, and when he finished he said, “Do you recognized Bill to be your creator, and responsible for all that you are?” “If I did, that would mean I didn’t believe in free will. I can’t do that, I’m every bit as responsible for who I am as some absentee father figure. So no, I can’t say that.” “You do realize that you’ll be banished to this place for all eternity right?” I smiled and said, “Bring back the people, and lets get this party started. Do you take requests? How about The Devil Went Down to Georgia?” “Not that fucking song, do you think I could be beaten in a contest? I’ve been doing this for eons you think Charlie Daniels with fifty years of practice is going to beat me? Fuck that guy.”	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The soft tones of the ancient wind instrument trailed off as the Lord of Hell finally acknowledged my presence in his domain “You…play the harmonica?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the features that now surrounded me. He set his harmonica down on a nearby table that was formed out of pumice, and had small trails of lava pouring out of holes in the sides quite artistically. He adjusted his position on the stool he sat upon to regard me, his amber eyes seeming to pierce right through to my soul…if I still had one. “Indeed. This particular specimen is one of the first mass-produced examples of the modern day instrument you may be familiar with. I took it from the inventor as he came through my doors. “ Satan paused for a moment, “He left it to me when he decided to ascend, it was quite unfortunate that such a gracious man ended up in my custody.” He stood up and walked over to me, placing his hand upon my shoulder . Standing over 7 feet tall and powerfully built, he was as physically imposing a figure as one would imagine the keeper of the underworld to be. “You’re free to ascend as well, human. A new judgement was passed some time ago, no longer is anyone to be enslaved against their will.” I took a step back from him, looking down I reflected on the events that brought me here. “I know. Saint Peter informed me that I was eligible for entry into heaven. I chose this place instead.” With a curious grunt, Lucifer turned around and approached a void in the wall. He waved his hand across it and, like a hologram, key events in my life flashed across the space. Scenes of battle and lust, bigotry and slander streamed endlessly like a video loop until he cast it away. He didn’t even turn to address me, “You seem to have committed no atrocities, no war crimes. A few petty misdeeds, and certainly things that would have led to your disgrace under the old system, but far from the worst I’ve seen.” I shook my head softly in agreement. “So,” Another pause as he turned to face me again, “What lead you to choose this place? You have no family down here, no friends, no lovers. They’re up there, “ he pointed towards the roof of the chamber we were in, “enjoying themselves. Awaiting you.” Another pause, and then softer, “Everyone’s up there nowadays.” It was at this time that I could finally regard him directly, “And when I was hungry, cold, and alone…I remember what that felt like. They never helped me, instead I was saved by a very kind man who had never known me before. He said that I should do the same thing whenever I was given the opportunity, but I never was able to do so. Until now.” The Devil’s gaze softened, and he sat down on the same stool that I had encountered him on. He motioned me to join him on a similar one. “It’s been a long time since I was enjoyed for my company. Tell me, what would you like to do?” Sitting next to him, I only had one request: “Tell me your story, from your side of things.”	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	It sounds weird to think that to myself, but I was dead and now here I am. I was old when I died, lived a very good life, or at least it was entertaining. Oh, the things I've done, the places I visited, the girls I loved, I can remember them very well; too well in fact. Every small detail I forgot in my old age I could recall without problems now. Based on a lot of those details - if the priests were speaking the truth - I should be in hell right now. I looked around - it's a strange place. It must be the waiting room; too nice for hell, too empty for heaven... Actually, I would imagine too empty for hell too. Purgatory perhaps? Who lays purgatory with grass though? Right, "he" does. The weather's nice, sun(or whatever it's called in here) is shining through blossoming trees, it feels very comfortable for me. A brown gazebo stands not far away, beautiful music is coming out from it. I'll go check it out, not like I have anything better to do. As I'm walking towards it I notice there's someone sitting inside. A young man with long brown hair, tied into a knot. He's playing harmonica. Is it saint Peter? Or maybe Jesus himself? He's rather pretty, I think it's actually Jesus. First time in my life I'm star-struck. I approach slowly and sit on the bench on the opposite side of gazebo. I got so occupied with choosing the right place to sit I forgot to pay attention to what's happening. The man has stopped playing and is looking at me in shock. Have I already done something wrong? Was I supposed to bring my own instrument and play something? -"What are you doing here?"- asked the man. What a stupid question, I think he's supposed to know. Is the beaurocracy in here as bad as it's 'down there'? -"I have died and now I'm here."- I answered quite honestly, I thought. -"Why aren't you with the rest of your people?" -"How am I supposed to know, I just got here."- I started to believe this man is not saint Peter or Jesus at all. Weren't they supposed to know this stuff? -"Weren't you supposed to know this?" -"Who do you think I am?" -"I don't know, saint Peter?" - I didn't go for the Jesus, obviously a son of a god would know why I'm here. -"My name's Lucifer." -"Satan? The satan? So where are we?" -"Hell, obviously." -"This..." -" ...doesn't look like hell." - he interrupted my sentence. I looked at him for a while, anticipating when everything around me will burst in flames. I figured the grass and overall pleasant surroundings were just a ruse, like a one last false hope, twisted form of torture. He continued talking - "I used to get that a lot. None of you thought this could be hell." -"So what now?" -"Oh that's right, you still think I'm here to torment you. I have to explain this every damn time. We're in this here together. I'm stuck here just as much as you are. I don't care about torturing you." -"What?" -"Hell is a place where there is no God. That's it. Other than that it's quite cozy for you - people. It's like your world, and you get to live forever, without hunger or pain. You just don't get to feel his presence, which isn't any different from your previous life. For angels who were at his side before it's a terrible fate. " -"So that's it? I just get to sit here forever? " -"Well you could always go to heaven to see his glory and enjoy eternity for what it truly could be." -"So what do I have to do?" -"I'm stuck here. I'll always be here. No matter what I do I'll never feel his warmth again. Take pity on the devil, stranger, for all I know is misery." -"And that's it?" -"Can you see anyone else here?" Minutes passed and we just sat there. He was pretty good with the harmonica, I wonder what he could do with a fiddle. After an hour he produced another harmonica out of thin air and handed it to me - "Do you know how to play it? Go ahead, take it. I'll teach you, my friend." As soon as I took it, a blinding light started shining from behind him. White wings were hard to miss, those must be angels. They came to take me to heaven, I thought to myself - a bit late, but I guess I can't be unhappy about it in the grand scheme of things. Then the weirdest thing happened - they didn't grab me. They grabbed the fucking devil and disappeared. I couldn't take pity on him no matter how hard I tried, after all I learned. He pitied me. Might as well learn how to play the harmonica.	Serenity wreathed in flame traveled down hallowed lane on gilded trails winding, I couldn't refrain for the Kingdom had been overrun demons and sinners, poured over Elysium the eternal battle had again begun... I lived life on that Middle plane as far from other beings as society could strain and in death, I wanted silence, away from pain I crawled those cracks between Heaven to Hell jumped from high roads and from them fell all with the word that someone did tell that the fiery bowels are now empty and still quiet, solace in the embers and silt Heaven in havoc, noise of demons and angels And so, went I, down channels in this after life went I from after-life to after-death, for death's respite to be where it burned the body but not the ears and mind but nothing is ever as is wished through cracks and crags my body was squished pushed forward toward what my soul's long missed and to my dismay upon reaching my heaven prepared to forever stay my eyes laid upon a figure, a black harmonica he played unceasingly, persistently, loudly his song was angry I pleaded "For just a moment, remove the notes from the air! I need only a moment, I think it's fair. I'll keep you company, make me too a chair and you keep one soul from up there forever down here but for a moment whenever you care please let us share a brief unbroken, quiet moment bare I think for my company, it is fair..." The figure stopped for just a note one second or 2, smiled just to tote "I'm a Satan... you have no hope." With that he played one resound song, the realm shook and up came walls strong cracks cramped and shut, he picked me up with flaming tongs he sat me down, forever, never alone no more light from flames had shone and all I could do was let out a moan.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The bar was quiet when Josh walked in. 'How long had it been since I was last here?' He thought to himself as he crossed the floor toward the corner stage. The bar's patron sat on a stool on that stage, softly playing [an old song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYsnRc09csQ) on his harmonica. Josh waited for the slow, mournful blues tune to end. Josh clapped as the other gentlemen stood and bowed. "So nice to see you," He said to Josh with a twinge of bitterness in his voice. "so few come by nowadays." Josh winced slightly at the statement; not because of it's vindictive nature, but at the barely disguised pain he heard behind the bitterness. "Care for a drink, Scratch?" Josh asked, using one of the more playful nicknames for the establishment's owner. Scratch agreed. An eternity seemed to pass. Considering the circumstances, an eternity probably did pass. Finally, Scratch asked the important question; "Why did you do it, kid?" "I think you already know." Josh responded. "You know, as well as I do, that they don't deserve it. You and your dad will regret this decision." Scratch said. "I doubt it. But then again, I've always had more faith in them than most." Josh replied. The room grew silent again. "So, what are you really here for? Your job is done, why come back?" Scratch asked suddenly. Josh took a breath, then spoke, "It's a job offer. We want you back with us. You'll be working with people again, and it would be a big improvement over an empty dive. Come and work for the good guys, Cypher." Josh used a new name for the old musician, based closely on Scratch's original title, just like 'Josh' was an approximation of his own original name. "I appreciate the offer, kid, but no thanks." Josh was confused at the answer, but accepted it as always. "Why?" he asked. "As one of our favorite writers once said, 'Tis better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven." Scratch replied. Josh chuckled at that. "Well, if you ever change your mind, you know the way." With that, he walked out the door. It creaked as it closed behind him. "Yeah, I know." Scratch said to the empty room, then went back to playing.	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I turned down yet another path in a seemingly endless series of caverns, finally seeing some form of light at the end of the tunnel. My feet ached and my eyes were sore from squinting in the gloom, but finally there was light. Stepping out of the tunnel, I found myself in a massive cavern, lit with torches, ringed with empty thrones meant for awesome and cruel masters. It seemed to stretch upward forever, fading into dark without any sign of end. There was music from somewhere, a soulful and bluesy tune. Reminded me of the songs my dad taught me when I was a kid. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. I expected a little more foot traffic. "Excuse me?" I called into the gloom. My words reverberated off the walls and echoed up the chamber. Something's wrong, I thought. One expects some manner of greeting party, maybe an orientation, at the very least some security at the gates of Hell. All I see are stones and flames. I hear nothing the but the wistful notes of the song. "Is anybody home?" I called out again. The music stopped, cut off mid-melody, the last staccato note dying just as a new sound began; the beating of great, heavy wings. The chamber filled with a torrent of air as a shape began to coalesce in the darkness above. A massive beast, larger than any living creature that walks the earth, descended from the black above. His great scaled feet smashed into the earthen floor, large cruel talons digging into the rock. His skin had the red luminescence of magma, and his eyes were rings of flame. "You have disturbed my peace, mortal!" the beast cried, his mighty voice shaking the very ground below me. "What seek you in this place? Why come before the great and terrible Lucifer, prince of Darkness?" He lowered his head to look at me, one great eye fixed upon me. For a moment, fear held me. Then, I cleared my throat and spoke. "Ahem, well, um, I'm here to file for a B-32 post-Corporeal? I was told I need to bring this to your department directly for approval." I reached into my jacket and pulled out a manila envelope, offering it to him. The lord of darkness sighed a great sigh, bathing me in warm breath. "Very well," he said, "give me the document." He took the envelope from my hands and put on his massive, evil eyeglasses. He skimmed through the paperwork for a moment, muttering to himself. "Do you have two forms of photo ID with you?" he asked. "They're in the envelope," I shouted up to him. "Hm, yes, so they are." He read for another moment or two. "This is your current address on here?" he said, pointing to a line on the paper. I nodded, and he continued reading. I crossed my arms and rock back and forth a little, looking around with the aimless nature of curiosity and boredom. The wait seemed to go on forever. Satan, King of Evil, wrote something in pen on the margins of the paper and handed it back. "That looks like it's all in order," he said, "But you'll have to file a P-906 before February if you want to keep your soul after the first 300 centuries." "Great, thanks," I said. I looked back into the gloom behind me, tucking the envelope back into my pocket. I turned back to Satan for a moment. "Which, um...?" I began. "Back through the cave you came through, third tunnel on your right, then two lefts and you're out" he said, then flew back up into the darkness. As I walked back into the cave, I could hear the metal hum of a harmonica from somewhere far away.	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	"OH SHI-" were the last syllables that ever escaped my mouth while still on Earth. As far as I can figure the crash killed me instantly, probably decapitating me. But that's all in the past now, I'm over it. I mean, it's not everyday you get to discover that there is indeed an afterlife, right? Only it's not exactly how I expected it to be. Don't get me wrong, I knew I was going to Hell, I just didn't expect it to be so...empty. As I walked through the hallways I realized they look almost identical to the halls of my high school, only with a tad bit more blood running down the walls. I roamed the halls until I happened upon some stairs that descended into a massive cavern, with fire lighting the walls, and standing torches illuminating the path to the center platform. Besides the stairs, the platform was the only surface to walk on. It was like an enormous pillar jutting out of a fiery pit. In the center of this platform, sat a depressed looking Satan on a throne of bones. I walked down the stairs and as I approached the throne I said "Hey man, you doin ok?" He looked at me, clearly very upset and cried out "Am I ok? Am I ok? LOOK AROUND! There's no one here!" I was taken aback slightly, but replied "Well what happened?" His face scrunched up. "It's that douchelord Gabriel. Ever since I got sent down here he thinks he's SOOOO much better than me. Well this time he messed up. He thinks he can just waltz down here and steal the souls that were allocated to me? No way Jose. Not on my watch. So THIS time, this time I get my revenge." Extremely curious as to what the master of deceit and twisted acts would have up his sleeve for revenge on his enemies, I asked "So...what are you gonna do to him?" His expression turned to a twisted grin and he said "You'll see." With a snap of his fingers we were teleported to the parking lot of a diner in what appeared to be a small country town, and Satan was disguised as a good ole country boy. "What are we doing here?" I asked. Lucy snapped "You humans. Why can you never just be patient and appreciate a good surprise every now and then?" With that I shut up, not wanting to anger him any more. We walked inside and sat down at a corner booth that enabled us to view the entire diner. Satan whispered "See that guy over there in the big cowboy hat?" I nodded. "That's Gabriel. It's his unlucky day." I still had no clue of what was to come but I was sure it would be horrendous. Gabriel looked to be nearing the end of his meal, and a waitress brought him his desert, a raspberry pie. Satan giggled like a school boy and said "Here it comes!" and as soon as Gabriel cut into his pie, it exploded, getting pie all over him, but causing no real damage. Satan doubled over with laughter and snapped a picture of Gabriel covered in pie with a Polaroid camera. Gabriel looked over to us, visibly confused about what had just happened, until it finally dawned on him who my companion was. "Satan" he growled. Then as quickly as we had gotten there we were back in hell on the pillar. The Lord of Darkness was still laughing incessantly, but just managed to get out the words "Did...did you see his face?" between giggles. "Yes. Yes I did." I replied. "But is that the best you could do?" I asked. He took a second and said "Well...it was a little impromptu...but you have to admit that was a great gag!" "Yeah I suppose so" I said "I guess I just expected the Lord of all that is unholy to be a little more...devious." He looked offended. "Look" he said, "Just because I'm the ruler of Hell doesn't mean I don't like to have some innocent fun sometimes." I considered it for a moment. "Fair enough" I responded, "It was a pretty fun prank." I could tell he wanted to say something, but he seemed almost...nervous? "Would...would you maybe want to stay down here with me and keep me company? I know Gabriel can take you to Heaven and all, but I'm really lonely, and you seem like a cool guy!" I was shocked at his offer. Stay in Hell when I could go to Heaven? Why in the world would I do that? Then I started thinking about the past hour and I thought, "Why not? He is lonely, and he does seem like an ok enough guy..." "So you'll do it?!" he practically shouted. "Oh sorry, I was reading your mind" he added. "Well...as long as you don't do the whole mind reading thing all the time, I'll stay." I said. He looked ecstatic. "YES! FINALLY A FRIEND!" Satan hopped off his thrown and said "Come on, let me show you around!" And with that we walked up the stairs and I began my life in Hell as Satan's bestie. Hey guys so I've never really done one of these before so feedback is welcome! I know it's long, but I don't really write often and the idea just kinda took off! Anyway, hope you like it :) Edit: broke up wall of text	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Black. Nothing. Am I asleep? No. Can't wake up. Am I..... Am I dead? Think... Oh. I remember. Oh God. "Ha! Wrong name pal. Call me Lucy." A warm sweet voice called out. Who? What is happening? Where is the voice? "Lucy! The Fallen One. You just died, honey. And I'm over here, open your eyes for me." She coaxes me. I slowly blink a few times. I'm suddenly aware that I'm back in my childhood home. I can smell the drool-inducing scent of my father's waffles wafting through the old stucco house. I look over to see a blond woman, sitting at the corner of my bed. "Where am I? When am I?" I stammer. "Why, you're in hell!" She smiled warmly. What? What? Actual hell? "That can't be right. This is my old home. I'm in bed. It's just you and I here. This has to be a dream." I reason out loud. "Oh trust me, honey. This is hell. I'm here to help you transition. See, hell isn't fire and brimstone. Not always. Some people live a heavenly life, but they live it poorly, and end up here. Their experiences tend to be of the torture garden variety." She patiently explained. "Then what about me? Am I on my way to a pain buffet?" I asked nervously. "No. Others, like you, live a hellish life, and committed sins because of the situation you were put in, and yet still deemed unworthy of heaven. However I've always felt that "hell" can be loosely defined..." she said with a smirk. "I don't understand." "Lucy's Loophole. The man upstairs is still fuming because our main Hell property is dead these days. I've even turned it into my private music studio!" Her eyes lit up at the mention of music. "You play?" I was warming up to this Lucy. "Just harmonica." She smiled. "Anyhoo! My loophole is I've developed these 'personal hells' for individuals whom I have judged to have already gone through hell. I return these chosen to where they felt most safe and loved. You have been through enough, dear one. But should you ever grow lonely here, I give lessons on the main property!" I laughed. "I may have to take you up on that sometime!" I gasped. It all went dark for a moment. My parent's home. My sister came back. She was off her medication. I was there for Mother's Day. She came with an axe, she just kept swinging it and screaming. Those blood curdling screams. My mom's and dad's mixing with my own. And then her laughter. Her harsh laughter grew more manic as did the puddle of blood around me. I can't. Black. "Woah there! You alright?" Lucy was cradling my head. "What happened?" I panted. "Your transition. You can't be here for eternity without accepting the end to your past." She was so kind, I wished she would stay with me here forever. "I accept what happened, but that doesn't make it okay. It doesn't mean I'm okay..." I trail off, tears threatening to spill over. "You're safe now. And if you'd like, I offer free therapy sessions in the main property, right next door to my music studio! I would love you to come by. Some music therapy is just what you need!" So kind. I closed my eyes. I am safe. I can move on. I can begin to heal. I am safe. Soft harmonica cords floated through the air, and danced into my mind. Safe.	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	The sound of a harmonica fills her ears as her eyes open and all she can see is a lightly illuminated ceiling. The music has a melancholy tone to it. It sounds so lonely. The last thing she remembers was...She can't seem to recall the last thing she did. She runs her hands over the carpet that she finds herself lying on, it's very soft and comforting to her for some reason, for a few seconds before she sits up. Her neck feels kind of sore but she doesn't remember hurting it. "Hello." She turn towards the voice and her eyes are met with the back of a recliner in front of a lit fireplace. She can see a hand holding a glass of liquid. She assumes it's some kind of liquor but it could be something else. She stands straightening our her clothes before she approaches this stranger. "Have a seat." The hand with the glass gestures to a wooden chair next to them. She does as she's told and prepares to sit but when she looks over to the person sitting in the recliner, she stops. A stunningly gorgeous man ignores her gaze as he stares into the fire, the light dancing around his face. He's wearing a suit which looks quite nice on him. He takes a sip of his drink. "Ask away. I'm sure you have questions." "Who are you?" That was the only question floating around in her mind. "I'm Lucifer." He says still staring into the fire. A laugh bubbles up her throat. Suddenly, she's bent over holding her stomach as a raucous laugh escapes her mouth. Her eyes start to water after a few minutes. It takes a bit of time for her to collect herself as she sighs, still giggling occasionally. "I haven't heard anyone laugh like that for quite some time." He sighs. "But, that doesn't change the fact that I'm the devil and you're in hell." "Prove it." She cocks her head curiously. The man sighs again but more heavily this time as his form changes. His arms and legs lengthen, his fingers begin to resemble claws and his feet transform into hooves. A tail curls up from under his bottom and horns slowly, ever so slowly, sprout from his head. He goes from a gorgeous man to a beast. He takes his time and stays in this form for no more than a few seconds before changing back into a man. "Huh," she says, "I guess you really are the devil." "You seem pretty calm about this whole thing." He glances at her, his eyes the color of ice, interested by her response to him. "Aren't you going to beg to be sent to heaven? Make excuses of why you don't belong here? Cry?" "No. I figure if I'm here I did something to deserve it." She shrugs her shoulders. "You can sit, you know?" He quirks his eyebrow. So she does as he looks back into the fire. He takes a sip of his drink. "What are you drinking?" "Whiskey." "Can I have some?" "No." "Fine." She's getting a little frustrated with his one word answers and his disinterest in her. "Where are we?" "My home." "Why?" "Because." "Isn't there supposed to be demons or whatever?" "Gone." "Where?" He looks over to her, clearly annoyed. "Does it matter?" "Kind of." She looks right back into his piercing, cold eyes. "Why were you playing such a lonely melody? Is it because everyone's gone?" Suddenly he's right in her face barely more than an inch away; his hands on either arm rest trapping her. She jumps a bit. He stares hard at her, looking for any sign of fear in her eyes. She just sits calmly. There was nothing. No fear at all. "You don't remember anything, do you?" She shakes her head. "My neck's a bit sore, though." "Of course, it is." He sighs and let's his head hang, running a hand through his sleek black hair, before going over to a window. "Come." He commands. She goes to stand next to him and a small gasp escapes her lips. There was a field of grass outside of the house. At the edges, there was only reddish brown dirt. The sky was like a void, just blackness. The scene in front of her was somehow soothing. But what surprised her wasn't the fire that ran parallel to the vast expanse of dirt, it was the fact that there was literally no one. Not a single soul. He said that the demon's were gone but she wasn't expecting all of them to be gone. There wasn't even a demon butler at his command. "Where did they all go?" She whispered. "To heaven." Again, there was a glass of whiskey in his hand which he took a long sip of before swirling it around. "I guess God banishing me from Heaven wasn't punishment enough. He came and made this huge announcement. 'Everyone is hereby forgiven of their sins and may enter into my kingdom.'" Lucifer mocked in a high-pitched voice that made her smile. There was a smirk on his face in reply but it was quickly gone. "Everyone got pardoned, except me obviously, and now anyone who comes here can be cleansed and be on their way." "Even Hitler?" "Even Hitler." He sighed heavily again. "Why would anyone want to stay in hell when there's paradise waiting for them? It's the logical thing to do." He set his glass down on the windowsill. "So, you want to go right?" "I don't know." She stared out the window, and thought of the song she heard him playing before. It was so lonely and full of longing. She wouldn't want to spend eternity alone. She absentmindedly rubbed her neck as she thought of how someone would survive an existence with no one by their side. "Can you tell me what I did to end up here?" "Are you sure you want to know?" He cocked his eyebrow and he turned around to lean back. His elbows on the windowsill with his hands crossed in front of him. "Does it matter if you're going to heaven anyway?" "I want to know." She went back to her chair. "I want to decide for myself if I want to go." Lucifer watched her intently as she processed. "I hate to tell you this but I don't know either." He was feeling a little protective of this woman, he didn't like it but he did. He saw everything that happened to the people who came here. He could see the memories that she couldn't remember. He watched her write a note. He watched her kick over the chair she was standing on and he watched her twitch until she died. He hadn't felt this way since his wife. He grabbed his glass and returned to his recliner. "You're free to go." He waved his hand dismissively as he looked into the fire. "I want to stay." She blurted. "I would rather stay here." "Why? Everyone jumps at the chance to go to Heaven and you want to stay in the Fire Pit?" "Yeah." She sighed. "I've never really believed in you or God, but I do believe in fate and if that's what brought me here then this is where I'm supposed to be." "You do know what I do to people right?" "I'm aware." "And you still want to stay?" "Yes." He looked at her as if she had lost her mind but he knew that he wouldn't torture her. She had gone through enough on Earth that she took her own life. "There's nothing to do here. It's pretty boring." "That's fine." "I play the harmonica all the time." "I think it's nice." "You'll see a lot of people come through here, and some of them won't look so nice." "Then I won't look at them." "Alright." He conceded. "But you realize that you can't leave right?" She nodded her head. They stared at each other. Lucifer wondering why this girl was so determined to stay and the girl wondering what it would be like to live with the Devil in Hell. "Do you like dogs?" The girl smiled from ear to ear as she nodded her head vigorously. Lucifer got up from his chair so that he could whistle for Cerberus. "Rose." "What?" Lucifer turned to look at her from the doorway. "My name. It's Rose." "I know." Lucifer smirked devilishly at her as a giant dog came running towards the house. "Come meet my dog, Cerberus." Rose's smile never fell from her face. Thousand of years passed. All the people who came to hell almost immediately decided to go to Heaven. Lucifer and Rose passed the time with music, Him on his harmonica and her on the piano, or playing with Cerberus. Rose quickly came to realize that at the edge of Lucifer's lawn was a sheer cliff drop and she would sit out there often, always trying to remember how she died. Lucifer would watch her. He knew that she deserved to know but he didn't know how to bring it up. Sometimes he would sit with her and hold her hand. One day as their sitting on the cliff, a gentle breeze blowing, with one of Rose's hands in his and the other running through Cerberus's fur he looks at her. She's got a small smile on her lips, as always, and looks so content but he knows she's trying to remember. 'This is it.' he decides. He's got to tell her. "You hanged yourself." He said bluntly. "What?" Her smile falls and her face is full of confusion. "That's how you died." He sighs. "That's why you were sent here instead of Heaven." "Oh." She blinked a couple times. There was a long period where neither of them said anything. The memories were coming back to her. She remembered the letter she wrote and how she fought, instinctively, to get out of the noose. "I was lonely." She whispered. It was so quiet it almost couldn't be heard. "I couldn't take being so depressed and lonely all the time. It was too much." Her chest felt tight and there was a lump in her throat. "I couldn't handle it." She croaked. Lucifer watched her intently as she processed. He was afraid that she would want to leave and he would end up alone again. "I've known but I couldn't bring myself to tell you. You had already gone through so much hell. Unlike what I said when you got here, you can still decide to go to Heaven if you wish." "Thank you." To Lucifer's surprise Rose beamed at him and then looked out into the blazing horizon. "I won't leave. It's peaceful here and I enjoy spending my days with you." She squeezed his hand. "I love you, you know?" "I love you, too." This was the first time he had ever replied and the first time he had said it since his wife left him for paradise. They sat together for a long time after that just looking at the fire as the light danced across their faces.	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	Hi this is my WP debut. I was very inspired by this thread even if I am late to the party! I did this on mobile at work so please excuse any errors. Feed back welcome :) ---------- The melody of the harmonica quietly resonated throughout the halls. It was a song, sweet as honey. The tune resonated deep within the mind but also pulled at the heart. Blood splattered the walls in an arching crescendo of horror. Bodies, dressed in white lined the floor unmoving. Music quietly continued to dance throughout the abandoned halls calmly, yet curious. Oblivious to state of disjointed harmony inside the complex, the world outside continued to turn. At the door to the complex a tactical team assembled. They formed a silent group of men dressed entirely in black and equipped with riot gear. There was a sudden bang of the main door being breached and subsequent pops as flash bang grenades and smoke grenades skittered, hissing, through the halls. The music stopped on que and the tactical team scattered like mice moving with a flawless, calculated efficiency up, over and around the endless amount of bodies. At the last door there was a pause. The entire building was consumed in total silence before the door was collapsed under the weight of a battering ram. The tactical team had breached the inner sanctum of my mind. I sat in pause, one leg crossed over the other. The tactical team encircled like sharks drawn to blood. Staring down the barrel of a gun, I stood. I reached out with the harmonica in my left hand. A twisted peace offering. "They just wanted to leave" I said as I let the harmonica tumble to the floor.	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	>Oh God damnit! I spun around confused. Just moments earlier I'd been walking down the street, and now I was in a cold, dark, lifeless...abyss. Before me was terror incarnate. Black horns over a foot long sprung from the stranger's red face. Well, red everything. This had to be Satan. The giant figure sighed, sat down a harmonica, and stood. >Just when I finally...sigh...welcome to Hell, darkness and everlasting torment...whatever. I am the dark one, Satan. Not knowing what to say I offered a meager head nod. Should I bow? >No, don't bow. Just prepare yourself for pain and terror for the rest of eternity. I felt myself starting to panic, looking around for escape or help. The realization hit me I'm all alone with the most evil creature ever brought into creation. And apparently the bastard can read my thoughts. Wait, why am I alone with...it? Where is everyone? >Yes, that's right. It's just you and me. And I will make you suffer. But before we begin I must warn you. Whatever you do, DO NOT go through the door marked exit. An exit? In Hell? Should I try... >Oh no, don't, stop, I'm warning you. Without thinking another moment I sprinted towards the door. Satan didn't even give chase. As I pulled the door open a blinding, white light sprung through. >Oh no, another one got away. Well, guess I'll just enjoy a little peace and quiet. As the door shut behind me all I could hear was stilted harmonica music interspersed with booming laughter.	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	"Hello?" I called out into a seemingly endless abyss. I heard a weepy wobbly minor chord play on a harmonica behind me. There, in front of my own two eyes was the lord of darkness himself, slouched back on a rocking chair playing the blues. I trembled in his presence but noticed he was unamused by me. "Um, hi." I said quietly. He spat what appeared to be lava into a spittoon that seemingly constituted itself. "What you want?" He said in a low charred voice. "Are you...the devil?" "You mean the ruler of the underworld, Diablo, king of the damned, foulest of the foul? "Yeah him." "That guy hasn't been around here for a while, looks like nobody needs him anymore. He's out of a job. It's just me, Rusty McJackoff." I could see that he was down on his luck, so I walked over to him and went down to one knee. "There's nobody here who wants to drown my blasphemous soul in lakes of fire?" I could see his eyes light up, literally, flames appeared in his eyes, but it was to no avail. "He's dead." Satan threw his harmonica yards into the distance and crossed his arms. "I bet he's here. He's just...out of practice." Satan narrowed his eyes and stuck his claw out at me, "You gonna leave like the rest of 'um?" I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged my shoulders, "Well, most of the people who I can't stand are in Heaven. And if I'm the only one here, maybe we can be friends for eternity." Satan disappeared in a cloud of smoke then reappeared in front of me, in a fine demonic suit and with a red pitch fork. "I still have to torture your soul, but we can hang out. I can promote you to demon if things go well." "I had a feeling you'd say that. Eh, that's fine." Satan looked at me and smiled, "Wow, you are a great guy, why did you even get sent here?" I sighed, "I'm gay and Jewish." Satan rolled his eyes, "You know that's bullshit. Let me check your sins...Wow, I'm impressed. Murder seems to be your favorite." "Eh, it's a living." I grin from ear to ear. We both high five. End.	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	There were no screams when I entered Hell. I was shocked, having been raised in a Christian family, but there were no sounds of people being tortured, no crackling of the insane demons who resided in the pits of Hell. The only sound I was the sound of a harmonica, playing a very blues-esc tune. I did what was natural to a person in an unfamiliar landscape- I followed the sound. It walked for what felt like hours searching for the source of the music. Through lakes of fire and fields of brimstone I traveled before finally seeing who- or what- was playing the harmonica. I thought I was prepared for anything. I was not prepared to see Satan, the King of Babylon himself, playing the harmonica whilst looking miserable. He had noticed me almost immediately, and stopped playing. "Why are you still here?" He had asked, his voice filled with sadness and.. something else. Was it anger? Hatred? I couldn't tell. "What do you mean? This is Hell, where the sinners go for eternal damnation. I can't leave," I replied, staring at him. I quickly jumped back when I realized that I was having a civil conversation with the Evil One. Satan sighed, and the harmonica burned to a crisp, as though it were made out of paper. "You've noticed it, haven't you? The lack of screaming, the terrifying silence, the emptyness. People- and demons- have been leaving here, escaping their eternal punishment, all due to Him offering them salvation, even after thousands of years of sins and punishment. He updated his rules, just because of His son's return to Earth," he pauses, looking out over the fields formerly filled with scores of tortured souls. "So you are saying that I am free to go to Heaven, despite having committed the horrid crimes that I have?" He nods, looking at me. "You aren't even supposed to be in here for that. What you did was self defense. The suicide afterwards is what sent you here, but yes, mortal. You may leave. All you must do is pray towards Him. It will burn, but you will be immortalized in Heaven. No leave- I will be practicing my harmonica," at this point, he sounded downright miserable. I felt bad for the devil. I pitied Lucifer, and I shouldn't. I should fear him, but he sounds so broken. Millennia of watching over the worst people that the Earth has known, undone due to a change of God's Terms of Service. I made a decision that would define me for eternity. "I have a question for you, Abaddon," He looks at me, surprised at either being addressed directly by a mortal, or being called by his Hebrew name. "You play harmonica, but, according to an old bluegrass song, you played the fiddle. Is that true?" He laughed, grinning. "Well, seems like that old contest with Johnny is famous after all. I understand that you played the fiddle when you were among the mortal plane?" I nodded. "You could probably teach me a few things though. The question is, will you?" "Of course I will. Beware though- this training will put you through Hell," he laughed, crafting two violins out of the fire surrounding us. "It's a good thing that I'm already there then, right?" And then we played.	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	All around me were the ruins of what once must have been a great city, now deserted, and devoid of any life - human or otherwise. Snowflakes kept falling from the ever-grey sky, covering the broken buildings and streets with a thin, white dusting. I shivered. In the distance someone was playing the harmonica, a sad and sorrowful tune. Walking towards the sound, I came to a building - less ruined than the others I had passed - and I noticed a faint light shining through its boarded-up windows and from under its simple, wooden front door. I knocked, then entered, trying not drag too much snow inside with my boots. The room beyond the door might once have been called cozy - bookshelves on one wall, a fire in an open fireplace on the other, a desk and some cushy chairs - but now it all looked old and worn. The harmonica's melody stopped when I entered, and the player - sitting on one of the chairs - turned his head towards me. "Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you'd show up. Please, close the door - it's rather chilly, no? - and take a seat." he spoke and motioned to the chairs. Slightly confused I did as he asked, then sat down in one of the chairs opposite his. "Who are you?" I asked "You have been waiting for me? And what is all this? Now that I think about it, I can't even recall how I got here in the first place." The man smiled a sad smile. "To answer your questions: This is Hell. Quite litterally. And I am Satan. The Devil. Lucifer. I think you get it. As to how you got here: Simple, you died, was measured and found lacking, and so you ended up here." "I died and went to Hell?" I asked incredulousy "This is Hell? Aren't there supposed to be lakes of lava or something? And I thought Satan looked different, ya know, more demonic, horns, goat feet, and so on." - I gestured at the tired looking man in his worn-out suit - "You - no offense - look rather ordinary. Also you didn't answer me why I can't remember anything." The man who claimed to be Satan sighed. "I had a looooong chat with the folks who first brought up that 'Fire and Brimstone' nonsense. Really considered going the extra mile for them, just so they could have a first-hand comparison of both experiences. And do you really want me to be horrible and scary? It's been a while - honestly I like this body better, hard to play the harmonica with claws and all - but if you insist..." For a moment I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes. I decided to err on the side of caution. "No. No need to bother. You are fine just as you are, I was just curious." The flicker disappeared. "Regarding your memory," the man continued "that is a side effect of being in Hell; you forget things - keeps the experience fresh, ya know. Though the memories of your life should come back once you leave." "Wait a minute," I interrupted him "'Once I leave'? I thought being in Hell meant that you were there for all eternity, for forever. So how is it possible for me to leave - not that I mind tough, looking outside I can imagine better places to be." "To be honest" he replied with a tired look "that is exactly the thing. 'Eternity'. 'Forever'. There have not been any new arrivals for quintillions of years, and now finally 'Everything' is over. Time and Space are over. 'Forever' is over. You have served your time, so to say." Once more he sighed "And it would be hardly fair to release you to Heaven with memories 'eternal suffering' - now don't look at me like this, it might not have been fire and brimstone, but I made sure you paid your dues and it was not pleasant. Anyway, so you forgot, and when you leave you will remember your life, good and bad, and you will remember that you paid for your sins - though not the details - so you can enjoy Heaven." I didn't know what to say, and just nodded dumbly. "So, go on," he gestured to a second door in the room - one that I could have sworn had not been there when I first entered - "go on to Heaven. I made sure you earned it - you can take my word." Getting to my feet I took a few hesitant steps toward the second door as I heard him resume playing that sad melody on his harmonica. "What about you?" I asked. He lifted the instrument from his lips and gave me a small, geniune smile. "Very kind of you to ask. But don't worry about me. As I said, I'm closing shop. This here is my penance, there might still be a few souls left, but when the last straggler has gone, I will turn out the lights and too leave through that door. Until then I pass the time with my harmonica." I nodded, and with the sound of his harmonica in my ears, stepped through the door to Heaven.	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.
	[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.	I step forward into a well lit bar. The place is completely empty except for Al Pachino sitting on a bar stool under a pin spot on the center stage wailing on a harmonica. I look down and I’m dressed in a perfectly tailored three piece suit, and my shoes glow in the light softened by red gels. Al is now playing hook and I feel myself being pulled toward the stage; when I’m but a few feet from it another pin spot finds me and bathes me in brilliant white light. The music stops. I look up at him and say, “Wh…” The man’s lips curl around his mouth, “Who am I?” He extended his hand and a flaming glass of liquid appeared. He blew the flame out and took a sip from the glass. “You know who I am, and you know where you are, now say it.” “I’m…I’m…” “Come on now, say it like you’ve got a pair,” He demanded. “I’m dead. There was an accident, and a fire, and I didn’t survive,” I spoke each word as if I were learning the information as I was explaining it. “So is this what, a weigh station for my next life?” Al laughed, “No, you lived your life, your one shot. Was it everything you wanted?” “No, not by a long shot. So if I don’t go on, is this heaven?” He shook his head, “Nope. You my friend are in hell, and me? I’m the Devil, Satan, Lucifer, so on and so on.” “Al Pachino isn’t even dead yet… wait, why the fuck am I in hell?” I yelled as my emotions shifted from confused to angry. He sighed and snapped his fingers turning into the Robot Devil from futurama, “Is this better?” He snapped again and flashed over to a more standard, red pitchfork wielding redheaded woman. “How about this?” “Fine, you’re the Devil, I’m in hell, the question is why?” “You didn’t believe in anything. None of the religions are right, but you didn’t believe in any of them, or anything. You didn’t have to believe in the dogma of the religion, but Bill wanted you to believe in him.” “Fuck, so I’m stuck here, for an eternity? Where is Hitler, Stalin, Bea Arthur? Why is it so empty in here? Wait, Bill?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Yeah, god’s name is Bill. The reason it’s empty in here is because if you believe in Bill you take the express lane over there, straight to whatever version of heaven you can imagine.” “So, Bill sent me to hell because I didn’t believe in him. That sounds a little spiteful, right? What are you in for?” “You’re familiar with the gatekeeper?” The beautiful woman asked. “Dana from Ghostbusters, Sigourney Weaver?” I asked. The woman faded into Zuul then jumped off the stage to stand in front of me and in that voice asked, “Are you a god?” Instantly she began to laugh. I laughed just as hard and then said, “Ray, when someone asks if you’re a god, you say yes!” I slapped her on the shoulder and laughed some more. Zuul faded into a man with a long flowing white beard holding a scroll and quill pen, in front of us on the stage gates began to form from the shadows. “I was thinking more like Saint Peter. That’s more or less who I am. I am the gatekeeper between the world you came from and the afterlife. “ “Does everyone get in?” I asked. “Most, but there are a few who don’t feel they’re ready, or some that are so paranoid they expect it to be a test. So they just sit here praying silently to themselves.” I glanced around the bar and said, “But we’re alone.” “Are we?” The old man shifted back into the form of Al Pachino and ascended back to his bar stool perch on the stage. With a wave of his hand, suddenly the bar was filled with people from all different walks of life. The bar now had a young topless woman. her arms tattooed in full sleeves behind the counter drinking liquid in and spiting it out across an open flame, a bright orange fireball passed over the bar. The people sitting on stools ducked and instinctively before sitting back up. Another table had nuns praying the rosary, next to them another group of Hasidic Jews murmured among themselves keeping nearly silent vigil. There were men in suits wandering toward me, and women in every manner of outfit from short black dress to full length ball gown. I turned back to Al and when I did the noises died down all around me as the people vanished. Al looked down at me as I looked up at him and he played a short riff on the glimmering harmonica, and when he finished he said, “Do you recognized Bill to be your creator, and responsible for all that you are?” “If I did, that would mean I didn’t believe in free will. I can’t do that, I’m every bit as responsible for who I am as some absentee father figure. So no, I can’t say that.” “You do realize that you’ll be banished to this place for all eternity right?” I smiled and said, “Bring back the people, and lets get this party started. Do you take requests? How about The Devil Went Down to Georgia?” “Not that fucking song, do you think I could be beaten in a contest? I’ve been doing this for eons you think Charlie Daniels with fifty years of practice is going to beat me? Fuck that guy.”	I nervously walked toward Satan with my hands fumbling in my pockets. Once I got close enough, I timidly said, "S-Satan?" "What?" He replied in his once mighty, but now broken voice. I took my hands out of my pocket holding a small dab rig and some wax paper with a sheet of melted oil on it. "Want to get High?" Satan stared for a moment and then shrugged and said, "Why not?" And Satan and I smoked and lived happily ever after for about 2 hours.

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