Hell's Heaven

A glare of luminescent orbs hovering on the ceiling blinds Steve awake. Slowly gaining his footing, he remembers what happened: he finished his time in the idea bubble... A place where ideas swirl and time halts. But that’s not important now, because finally, Steve has been able to enter where he only read in books, the planet of Hell.

As he looks around, the entry lobby is just as he read about. It’s very white, including the beds scattered uniformly around, with others just waking as well. They were all dressed in togas, which he assumed he was wearing, too. As he sat up and slowly put his feet to the ground, he could feel what was like cold stone, but rather, it was smooth white brick without a single blemish—the epitome of perfection. How could a place like this not be a utopia when such care is even expended on something as simple as floor care?

But despite the care put into the environment, from the freshly ironed, perfectly white sheets and the perfectly hovering orbs of light, the smell is slightly off. Almost recognizable, actually. That’s what the smell is. Steve, as he stands up and takes a deep breath, smells freshly baked bread. Which, to be fair, is his favorite scent. It smells like the bread he made with Sarah before... before...

Steve, while lost in thought, suddenly snapped out of it with the sound of boots against the hard floor. Steve looked up from where he stood to see a middle-aged man casually dressed like a World War II-era pilot, with the jacket and all... Well, all but the B.K. crown, which sat upon his mostly brown, graying, lush hair.

“Hey, you must be one of the new members here on Hell. My name is Thomas, but you can call me Tom,” the man said, jutting his hand out forcefully, but with a kind, hearty nature leaking out. Slowly, after staring at his hand for a bit too long, Steve shook his hand in a calm, precise manner, replying, “Hello Tom, my name is Steve.” Short and to the point is what must have gone through Tom’s head, realizing Steve’s a quiet one.

“Well, Steve, I am a greeter here to help you adjust to this wonderful world of ours, you have finally entered, and don’t worry about finding work here, it’s entirely optional,” Tom spoke, full of enthusiasm. “Now follow me.”

Tom started walking towards the bright light flooding the east wall where he came from, and Steve, looking only slightly concerned, followed him. Due to still being disoriented from the idea bubble, Steve stumbled a bit following towards the light. Tom, of course, with his experience, actually kept his pacing slow so Steve could catch up. However, by the time he had stumbled to Tom, bored of waiting, Tom supported Steve’s weight with an arm. The light outside nearly blinded Steve in the flash, but slowly faded from a flashbang to like an aura that enveloped everything he saw without the faintest blur.

As the lines begin to define themselves, the first sight Steve is met with is what looks like tall rectangles, pristinely white and devoid of detail. At first, they seem plain and uninteresting, but after blinking a few times, he realizes these are just the basic outlines. Now, he sees artistic mastery flourishing with greenery. Vines snake around the white structures, with leaves whispering as a gentle breeze glides by, offering cool relief and filling the air with a faint, earthy aroma. The entire panorama bursts with a kaleidoscope of colors, from warm hues of reds and greens to striking shades of hot pink and abyss black. Flowers of various shapes and sizes sway gently, humming softly with the rustling of their petals against one another. Among the lush visions, surreal homes with balconies blend seamlessly into the vivid landscape. On the same pristine white brick, people of all different backgrounds mingle freely, their togas billowing slightly in the breeze. It is exactly as his imagination had envisioned: a utopia where everyone coexists, free from hate or discrimination, and an audible murmur of contentment echoes throughout, instilling a profound sense of peace.

Well, there is one odd thing, something that kind of made Steve feel something. Something that could not be described. Maybe annoyance, curiosity, concern, or even fear. When Steve turned his gaze to the sky, he couldn’t see anything, not the blue of the sky, the white of a ceiling, or even the blackness of space.

He turned to his left. “Hey, Tom. What’s up with the sky?” Steve asked, almost casually, with only a hint of real emotion bleeding free.

“The sky? Well, Steve, just imagine it as the angels’ eyes to watch over and protect us all,” Tom replied with a certain kindness covering a slight unease.

Hearing this, while Steve got a slight chill going down his spine from that response, he quickly drew into understanding. How else could they protect us and keep us secure without? Instead of any kind of growing concern, for the first time in his life, Steve felt a kind of safety knowing he was being watched over with a careful, secure gaze. It’s probably a part of why Hell is the safest planet ever to exist.

“Come on, I know where you should go first,” Tom exclaimed with the energy of a cheerful soccer dad. Tom unhooked his arm from around Steve now that he had a firm standing and started speed-walking through the crowds. While he was a bit hesitant for a moment, Steve followed his lead. After a walk that seemed nearly an instant, but more like several minutes, Tom stopped with Steve not far behind.

Finally catching up with Tom, Steve, slightly out of shape, took a breath and looked forward at the building they had stopped at. It looked as if a retro diner were on the lobby floor of a massive hotel. As he followed Tom in, he read the sign above the door, Shannon’s Dine In. The interior matched the outer aesthetic, featuring retro Earth booths filled with a diverse crowd, ranging from humans to harpies. The centerpiece of the diner was a classic bar with floor-mounted stools lining it, with a tall, broad woman with red hair working behind it. The only oddity was the massive sword engraved with runes, strapped to her back.

“Hey Shannon!” Tom exclaimed, like old friends meeting again after a war.

She went stiff for a minute in recognition of the voice, then finally turned from the stove with a hardy smirk directed at Tom, barely noticing the feeble Steve next to him.

“Well, hey there, Tom, I haven’t seen you in forever,” Shannon said with the gruffness of a soldier, which explains the roughness of her hand. “Who’s the kid with you?”

Tom chuckled heartily, like drinking with an old friend. “Well, he’s new here in Hell, and I thought I would show him around.” Tom’s arm swung heavily over Steve’s shoulder, causing a bit of instability.

“Hello,” Steve said with a quiet, shy voice, now intimidated by these two together.

“Well, there’s no need to be so squeamish. Why don’t you both sit down for shakes? They’re on the house.” Shannon laughed, her Irish accent seemingly strengthening with each chuckle.

Tom immediately took the offer as if he was meant to be a freeloader, sitting at the corner stool of the bar. Steve promptly sat next to him like the awkward third wheel.

“What... What do you both do here in Hell?” Steve asked, stupidly, for Shannon, but it was directed towards Tom.

Only Tom responded while Shannon just laughed. “Well, that’s an interesting question. You see, we all have our roles. For example, Shannon works here. As for me—” Shannon sets down a milkshake for each of us before he continues. “Well, I do this, I welcome newbies and show ’em around.”

Steve took a breath and then spoke once more, “Ok, but why?”

Both Shannon and Tom stared at him in confusion and said in unison, like plain knowledge, “Your sprite.” Their voices are nearly deadpan as they continue, “You don’t have one?”

At that moment, they tilt their heads at him. Not only them, but when he looks around, everyone is looking at him... at least everyone in the diner.

“You don’t have one,” everyone repeats, now in an eerily monotone voice while staring at Steve.

This sent a chill down his spine, and what happened next only amplified it. The sky outside the diner, the blank nothingness that somehow emitted light, faded in just a few seconds until even the inside of the diner was enveloped in a cloak of darkness. What made Steve stand to his feet like a bolt of lightning was the door flinging open like a powerful gust of wind. At first, all it seemed to be was a gust of wind, but that didn’t last long. No one came through the door,s but a defined reverse shadow of light crept in slowly, in an almost humanoid shape. The only difference is the vast bulges on either side of the supposed head. No, they weren’t just bulges... They were wings.

In a panic, despite no intention placed on the entering shapes, Steve leaped over the counters. Surprisingly, no one made an action to stop him; everyone but the shapes homing in on him were frozen. Quickly, he made his way out the back of the diner—well, he went through a door he thought was the back; however, it was the deep freeze. When he turned around to back out, he was cornered, the lightened shapes sliding through the crevices of the door. Just as they enveloped him, with his eyes shut tight, “Hey? Steve, you alright, bud?”

When Steve reopened his eyes, he was sitting at the bar with Shannon and Tom.

“What... what happened?” Steve asked with a shiver going down his spine, breathing heavily.

“Hey man, it’s ok... " You were having like an asthma attack,” Tom said, patting Steve’s back to be a bit of comfort. It was comforting, but Steve still wondered... What was that? Was it really just an asthma attack, or was it more than that? He could’ve sworn what happened as if it were a movie... or did it?

“But—” Steve spoke, but then he was cut off with the milkshake being drained down his throat by Tom.

“Anyway,s Shannon, it was nice catching up, but it’s best we get going,” Tom said, standing up, guiding, practically manhandling Steve to his feet.

Being waved out by Shannon, Tom, who’s accompanied by Steve like a prisoner, gets up, leaving the door they came through, leaving two empty glasses of milkshake.

“Wait, where are we going—” Steve exclaimed, raising his voice for the first time. Only to be interrupted by Tom’s hand over his mouth as they slid through crowds like a snake. Tom was weird; unlike the happy-go-lucky dad vibes he had earlier, he was now very serious. It is so hard to tell whether it’s of a negative or positive kind.

They paced and paced, seconds to minutes to hours, and in that time, every time Steve spoke or even asked something, there was not so much as a grunt in response from Tom.

Finally, after hours, they eventually slowed down in an area far less populated, seemingly a deeper area of Hell. And among the beautiful yet uniform rectangular buildings used to their fullest extent lay a single building that stood out. It was white like the floors in the lobby, but not the same. Instead of bricks, it was like a massive block of concrete jutting from the ground, and unlike the pristine nature of everything known as Hell, it was decrepit and falling apart like a home from Earth.

“You will be safe here,” Tom said, finally taking a breath and loosening his grip on Steve as they both entered. Despite his lax nature, it didn’t seem that Tom was ever going to answer any of Steve’s questions. The inside was just like a rundown hotel hallway with water damage and not even a lobby, just a variety of doors lining the walls with strange symbols above them.

“Come on, let’s get you settled in the room down the hall where I can explain some things to you,” Tom spoke, his voice and demeanor losing the short-lived seriousness, back to fun dad vibes.

They started walking, which felt normal at first, but after walking for what seemed like ten minutes in a hallway that realistically would take five to walk, Steve turned his head. He searched the walls rather than being dead set on the destination, noticing how the space between doors seemed to expand or retract. Then he made a regretful decision and turned around. He didn’t see the exit. At first, he didn’t see anything except the abyss. But then that abyss came faster than they walked, leading to Steve speeding up, not even checking for Tom as he bolted his head forward. The abyss seemed to be gaining speed, but finally, distance was actually being crossed. It was like the abyss was swallowing the hallway. Closer, and closer, the door right in his grasp, but slightly shifting his head, he sees the darkness catching up. So to make the final distance and to avoid being swallowed, he made a jump, a leap. He nearly broke down the door as he tumbled inside, and when he searched the room, the door shutting behind him, there was Tom.

“Oh, hey there. You must be the bellhop,” Tom said, standing there, dressed like a Hawaiian tourist.

Steve stood there, dumbfounded, and crept for just a moment before shifting into some kind of confusion. “Tom, what’s going on?!” Steve yelled in his face, the loudest he has ever been. “What’s going on?!” He could practically feel tears filling his eyes; this place was creeping him out more than it should.

“Excuse me?” Tom said, his voice filled with insecurity and entitlement. “Why is a bellhop like you talking to me like that, and how do you know my name, Jared?”

Jared? Steve thought with even more confusion filling his face until he looked down to see what he was wearing. Steve fit neatly into a red bellboy uniform, yet it looked unkempt with frayed edges and fading color.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize what I was wearing,g but I promise you I’m not a bellhop,” Steve spoke quickly, as if realizing he was being portrayed as the crazy one in this situation. “But do you seriously not remember anything? We were going down that hallway together just moments ago. Then you disappeared and the abyss, yes, the abyss, swallowed where we came from.”

Tom’s face morphed from one of superiority and disdain to one of confusion and understanding intermixed. “Ok, I don’t know who you are or what you are talking about.” Tom continued as he sat down on the edge of the king-sized bed, “But you sound like you need someone to talk to.” A small smile formed on Tom’s face.

This brought relief to Steve, that even if he didn’t remember what had happened so far, he at least was as kind-natured as before. So Steve sat on the bed’s edge as well, about two feet from Tom, before replying. “So... You really don’t remember anything? You're taking me to that building, the diner, or even back at the entrance of Hell? What about Shannon?” Steve’s voice was filled with concern, and he nearly went too far with his questioning, but he left it at that for a start. Waiting for Tom to reply.

After a few seconds of silence, rather than facing his knees, Steve turns up towards Tom, who then shakes his head slightly with what was either pity or guilt in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, son, but I have no idea what you are talking about...”, Tom replied before pausing, then continuing. “Although I did know someone named Shannon from college, she was a Scottish exchange student for computer science.” For a second, you could see a blip of color reappear on Steve’s face until he hears Shannon's context. “Sorry, is that the answer you were hoping for?” Tom said in a calming, gentle voice before Steve replied quietly, “No... That’s ok...”

Steve turns his gaze back to his lap for a bit as he processes everything that has happened up to this point. After several minutes of silence, Steve finally looked up at Tom to say something, but was brought to a frosty breath when he saw Tom.

Tom was not Tom, and it wasn’t like the diner... No, this was vastly different. His eyes were gone, and this inky black liquid oozed out of his eye sockets and mouth. One final thing whispered out of Tom’s mouth as Steve fell to the ground from the bed, going pale as chalk, “Their eyes... They don’t see...”

With hearing his final words, Steve felt the ground beneath him give way. He was falling, and like sand through an hourglass, the surroundings faded away into an abyss. But then... There was light.