Helga (unedited)

Chapter 11: Death is born

‘O child O child, the children are gone. The streets now fume with the aromas of sulphur, death, and hopelessness. The good are gone; the good never existed. The black man with a black heart sits under the black sky and vomits: acid, suicide, and the hell that is. If we are alive, we consider ourselves dead. If we are dead, consider us eternally cursed, we the fools that believe in such charms called love, peace, and trust. In this hell of ours, our hell, where the scar is the tattoo, where the haunted memory is the best dream, we are the soldiers of no mercy. Ancient bullets are embedded in our skulls, torsos, and there do they rust, corroding whatever flesh remains and the minerals that make up our bones. As the soldiers of no mercy, there is no morning, no mourning, just the shear curse of knowing that will not end, this Hour, our Hour in the breath of demon’s abs.

          Our eyes are our visions, the cruel previewers of what is to come: pain, scorn, and the blackness of life. As the desolate mosques echo the voices of fabricated men, reverberate the desolate churches inhale every speck of every dust imaginable. This is our hell. We scream-not! We yell-not! We plead-not! Why should we hang our necks with faith, hope, and love? They are the very neckties that have led us into the dark world of no return.

O child O child, the children are gone. Now, we are cold, rendered impaled, concrete souls that now roses shall rise from.’

That was carved onto the adequately named ‘Last Ride’, the elevator that shot down into the prison that was called Hell. For argument’s sake, it was odd because we all thought the vans to be our last ride. The last ride was awful, a cage of barb-wire covered with the dry skins of those that held on to escape. The floor wasn’t its original colour; it was gory to say the least. When we looked down as to where the ride ended, it was pitch black down there.

‘Your domicile,’ said Hades ‘I try my best to make sure it’s everything you want. His cynicism was as black as his heart.

They began shoving us with their knives, poking us. The knives might as well have been pitch forks.

As we dragged our feet onwards towards the elevator, the chains of the shackles tensioned; a sure sign of reluctance. The chains dragging on the ground made a hissing, serpentine sound. The sound was loud and unmistakable. It overpowered the silence.

‘Move on, move on,’ ushered Hades ‘Be quick!’ he told the invaders, ‘I don’t want to keep you here as well.’

At that, the poking became unmitigated jabs of urgency.

‘Ra!’ said one of the invaders, ordering us to pick up pace. We picked up our feet and walked into the elevator. Once inside, Hades shut the door and locked it with a chain a good six times.

‘Let me tell you what will happen to you now...and forever,’ he diabolically said ‘You will descend into Hell where you will be greeted by the demonstrators; demons for short. The demons are my adopted children. They guard Hell and make sure that you remain within your location. Yes, they will torture you- a lot, but look at it as them having fun,’ he continued, ‘All the best,’ he concluded as he pressed the button  that made the elevator slowly go down into the pit.

As we slowly descended, I made out the sound of the vans departing and Hell’s Gate shutting. Why did I commit myself to such a place?  Either way, I had no one to go home to; not even a home. The light quickly dimmed. Inside the cage the faces of everyone inside faded into the darkness. The only way that we made out each other was through feeling the warm breathes were exhaled.  But soon enough there was no distinction in warmth. As we descended, it started to get stuffy in there. Although I couldn’t see it, I felt sweat raining down from my forehead. The path each drop took was peculiar as my face was swollen all over. None of us spoke; we braved our hearts in anticipation. What more could be done to us? Our parents were dead. The loudness of silence kept on intensifying until we started hearing voices. Th voices were creepy and nothing else. They undressed the valour of our hearts.

‘Here they come!’ we heard a voice shout from below. That meant that we were closing in on Hell.

From where the man was shouting, blinding light shot straight into our eyes.  The elevator went down until it reached our last destination: Hell’s Doors. The doors were open and inside a number of men, now known as demons, were waiting for us. Amongst the men there was a larger woman. Like the woman that I’d encountered before, she was similar in stature. She was bulky and yet feminine, had a cat’s eyes, and the smooth talking of a snake. Her nails were long and lethal.

As we stopped and were dragged inside, she greeted us.

‘Welcome to Hell,’ she said ‘I am Satane Santa: the Queen of the prison.’

We were dragged in.

‘You’re still alive;’ she said to me ‘I’m glad to see you.’

I was sure she was mistaken...