Distinctive footsteps ricocheted on the tall and dark walls of the gloomy hallway. Lit by the occasional red light of an abnormal looking candlestick with an even more abnormal red flame, the walls were delicately draped in spiderwebs and a sprinkle of dust. This hollow darkness seemed to envelop the horned figure, which was walking with extreme ease and comfort, in contrast with the cold vibes emanating from the odd place. The counted steps of the peculiar visitor were accompanied by a steady hum, sounding almost like whispers, radiating from the walls, the floor and the ceiling.
The whispers of the Dead.
There was a legend that, on this very piece of land where now stood the gloomy manor our protagonist seemed so acquainted with, had once taken place one of the most vicious battles of all times. It is said that angels and demons fought here in the name of the dominance of the Realm of the living. The battle raged on for months, leaving piles of corpses on both sides of the battlefield. Realizing that this bloodbath would lead to no other than a draw, divine and evil decided to leave humans as the rulers of their own fates. Or that is, rulers of their fates in this Realm.
According to that same legend, whoever had been judged unforgivable would be dragged down the Hallway to Hell, their screams, blood and prayers being engraved in the walls of the torturous route, keeping company to the souls of all the demons that had been killed during the Battle.
It is also said that any living, pure or rotten, who got too close to the Manor of Hell, would be irreversibly cursed to spend an eternity in the Underworld. Rare were the ones who dared even driving next to that land, for the legend did a pretty good job at spooking out any decent person, did it not?
"Baby shark doo doo doo doo..."sing-sang the tall silhouette, moving his index and thumb to the beat of the 'lullaby', mimicking a shark.
Continuing the complex choreography which now involved him using both hands to play Mama shark's role, he effortlessly kicked the door that stood in front of him, causing it to fall on the floor, interrupting the seemingly serious discussion all 11 of his siblings were having in the now doorless conference room.
Before he had the opportunity to take the role of Papa shark, a slick dagger came flying at him, finding bull's eye in his throat.
"JUDAS!", roared a white haired woman, pure wrath plastered on her face. "You arrive late, fine. You break down the door, okay. You INTERRUPT us, tolerable. But for the HATE of HEAVEN, NOT THAT EAR BLEEDING SONG!"
"You're just jealous because you mess up the dance everytime," accused Judas while pulling out the dagger from his throat, which seemed to immediately heal. "Just admit I'm the better artist between us, sister."
Judas quickly ruffled his equally white hair, then headed towards the only seat which had not been occupied yet. Just as he sat down, a gray creature appeared on the desk in front of him, holding a tray in its skinny 'hands'. "Your dinner, Your terror", bowed the terrified thing before disappearing.
"Mmmm, my favorite!" exclaimed the childish Devil, looking with sparkling white eyes at his bloody skull-cup of wine, and still bleeding piece of steak.
Erra sighed, discouraged, before sitting back down in her seat, rambling about how they 'should've disowned him centuries ago' to her elder, Azrael, who sat at her left.
"Well, now that all twelve of us are here, I believe it is time for us to start." said a tall man with ash white hair, a cold expression on his face. His words caused all of the siblings to calm down and sit straighter in their chairs, immediately giving the conference room a more serious vibe."Per usual", he continued with his deep Greek accent," we are going to take the roll call from eldest to youngest. Each of you is to state their presence and the number of souls that they and their team have collected. Understood?"
The white haired assembly nodded.
"Farewell. We shall begin. Pluto?"
"Present. 1150."
"Osiris?"
"Here. 937."
"Death?"
"1414."
"Anubis?"
"Present. 666."
"Azrael?"
"Salam. 1392."
"Erra?"
"1507, brother."
"Namtar?"
"580."
"Erlik?"
"Aye, 733."
"Batara Kala?"
"For the hundredth time, call me BT. 1276."
"Pana?"
"We only got 468, unfortunately."
"Judas?"
"I've been waiting for this moment all night long!" Said the youngster, as he clapped his hands in excitement."1614, SUCK ON THAT BITCHES!"
The young devil got a couple of claps, stares, and a nicely thrown dagger from his beloved sister -which he managed to dodge, this time.
"What about you, Hades?" asked Pana in her feminine soft voice. "How many did you get?"
"1614. Seems we're at a tie, brother dearest," grinned Hades at Judas, although nothing but coldness could be seen in his eyes.
Judas grunted.
"Now that that's over with, does anyone have any recommendations or remarks?" asked Death, a bored expression on his face.
"I got one!" screamed Judas, as he was munching his last bite of steak. "See, there's this song that I find pretty torturous, and I thought we could use it as a new way of torturing angels! It goes like : Baby shark doo doo doo doo-"
"ABORT MEETING. I REPEAT, ABORT. MEETING." screamed Osiris, exasperated.
Hades pinched the bridge of his nose.
"This meeting is over,"he murmured, followed by the sickening squeal of 10 chairs being frantically moved. "Your list of souls to reap will be on your porches by sunrise, per usual. Have a nice reap."
And just as the Elder finished speaking, his siblings vanished into thin air, leaving a hint of black smoke behind them.
"Sleep tight, little brother," wished Hades to Judas before disappearing, abandoning the mischievous Devil all alone with his now empty skull of wine.
He cracked his fingers, stretched his neck, stood up then straightened his robe. He then slowly headed towards the exit, savoring the pleasant desert that were the moans of the dead to his ears.
Once outside, he headed towards his black Ferrari, started the engine, and drove home, a torturous lullaby lingering off his lips.
YOU ARE READING
Lust: Reborn
Fantasy"Graves. That's all I've known, my whole life. Or rather, that's what my life has always been about. Watching lives come and go, cutting throats and breathing tubes. Ah! How lovely their pleads, screams and blood splattering sound, To the Grim Reape...
