After-Life

Chapter 13. Limbo

Limbo was a land of chaos. Upon entering the realm, Thet and Azrael paused on the top step of a spiral staircase that had no railings and was crumbling from an unmeasurable time of abuse. Its final step rested somewhere far below them; lost in the sea of buildings, townscapes, and mulling crowds. Even from so far up, Azrael felt the need to cover his ears with his hands as the collective moaning and sighing from the realm's inhabitants was deafening.

"What on earth is that awful sound?" He groaned, miserably.
Thet cocked his head, rather non-plussed; "ah, that would be the sound of the choir of Repentance and Satanism," He said; "I grant, it's a rather morbid sound to those unfamiliar to it. Personally, I rather like it. I find it incredibly impressive how they have incorporated the frantic cry of rebel yells; the pure sound of gospel; and a series of phenomenal guitar solos, from a host of musicians - who passed far too soon in their professional capacity; into a eulogy, dedicated to their chosen deity."

Azrael slowly turned on the spot to gawp at Thet, "There are Satanists down here?" He gulped, "Do they not know what rests in store for them?"
"Oh yes," Thet nodded, casually. "You see that tent over there?" He pointed towards a plush red tent that looked more in keeping with the Renaissance period of travelling entertainers.
"The one that's resting on the head of... my goodness, what in all that's holy is that thing?" The angel blanched, shuddering at the sight.
"Hm," Thet shook his head disappointedly at Azrael's reaction. "You recall the artist Jheronimus van Aken, more familiarly known as Hieronymus Bosch?"
Azrael cast a guilty, blank look of ignorance at Thet.
"Of course you wouldn't," Thet sighed. "Hieronymus Bosch was a Dutch painter who spent much of his living years traditionally painting religious concepts in oil on wood. Beautiful work, you should check some of it out should you ever feel inclined to descend from on high. Much of Limbo's architecture and planning is based on his imaginings. The surreal and bizarre themes seemed to fit the scene better than anything too regal or majestic. You wouldn't know him, I suppose, as he was sent here many centuries ago by you or whoever was standing by the heavenly gates at the time."

"Why was he sent here?" Azrael mused, "If he was devoutly religious and spent his time depicting the various stories of the scriptures..."
"We may never know the full truth of it," Thet interrupted him, impatiently. "All I can assume though is that his piece titled Krist in Limbo, hit a bit too close to home with someone from upstairs and he was booted down to Limbo. During his time here, he helped manage the construction of much of what you see before you. That tent hosts regular talks from Hell's representatives or even some of my brothers and sisters. The fleshy giant it rests on top of, spews out all the souls you send down here from heaven, he's affectionately dubbed Gape;" at the angel's mystified expression, Thet added; "as a nod towards his gaping mouth." The reaper grinned, as Azrael issued a slight whimper.

"Thet, I don't understand;" the angel mustered as he tried with all his might to absorb the disorder and monstrous elements of Limbo before him, "you say the reapers and demons from Hell offer talks here, who speaks on behalf of heaven?"
Thet snorted loudly, "no one."
As Azrael blustered and flushed a rosy, red in embarrassment, Thet started to descend the steps confidently, "suffice it to say," he called over his shoulder at his mortified angelic companion, "there are few who maintain their love for the heavenly host, down here."

Azrael fell into step behind Thet, feeling exceptionally conscious of the sheer drops on either side of the stairwell, "so... whatever happened to Hieronymus Bosch?" He asked as casually as he could, trying to make light conversation, "Maybe I could strike up a deal with him and find a place upstairs, more suited for his talents and convictions?"
Thet stopped so suddenly, that Azrael nearly collided with him and had to sit heavily on the sandstone steps to prevent himself from toppling over the edge.
"You don't get it, do you?" Thet shook his head, pityingly. "Every soul you will encounter here has given up on ever reaching a higher place."
"But... the Choir of Repentance?" Azrael persisted.
"... and Satanism – it is one whole title. Their members are repentant of having spent their lives worshipping a deity who barely heeded their calls, and they instead clamour to the Lord of Hell. Incidentally," Thet cleared his throat as he continued his journey further down, "Hieronymus Bosch made a deal with Baphomet, centuries ago."
"The GOAT?" Azrael blurted out, louder than he'd anticipated.