INSANITY

Hell awaits him

The devil is a man of many names, Lucifer, Hades, Satan. Take your pick.

There was death everywhere. This is to be expected when you spend thirty odd years guarding the gates of hell as Hades’ pet puppet, making sure that everyone behaves and has a 'safe' journey through hell. Recorded announcements from the big boss, Hades, sounds repeatedy “Please take the train on the right.” the whispering voice flows through the cave, designed to strike fear to the souls that arrive like a venomous spider striking its prey with teeth bared.

The announcement cracked him up. There was only one train, there was only one path. The one thing that changed was creativity in the punishments they think up.

It started like an ordinary day, dressed the same as the day before, the day before that and so on and stuck in the same disordered cubicle that smelt of rotten flesh in front of a pitch black cave. The blue overalls that made up my entire outfit, was given to me when I started the job, with a sown on name “Pete” which we assume is the name of the previous owner. We have no recollection of our past and certainly not our names, people know me here as Jay.

A beeping sound alerted me to an oncoming train, I used the one good ear I have to listen to the familiar sounds of screaming, wailing and the repeated booming horn of the train. I lunged forward to press the button to open the gate, the shackles that bind my neck to my hands and my hands to my feet jostle violently. You didn’t think that because I work for the devil that I would be allowed even a small amount of freedom? Absolutely not, he made that abundantly clear with 4,000 lashes. The gate slams open in a blink of an eye to allow the zoom of the 230mph train to pass, the ground shakes and a booming noise follows, so loud that my ears whistle painfully.

In the blur of the moving train, I can see outlines of thousands of souls with faces of different sorts; some are silent and slumped on the limited seats, as if accepting their fate whereas most are banging the unbreakable glass in attempt to escape, I shudder.

Then,

At the end, I see a hallucination standing inside the train but seemed not to move with it. It was the familiarity of the face that shocked me, the fear overwhelms me and forbids me to blink. The shadow notices me, and smiles; his dark, black eyes match the colour of his soul. He caused death.

The whoosh of wind from the just passed train jolts me back to reality, my dried eyes force me to blink rapidly and the hallucination was gone just as quick as it came.

I went back to my normal routine; beep, button, noise. beep, button, noise, and so on. Being stuck alone in a cubicle did not do much to help me forget what I thought I saw, “just forget it. If they see you distracted, it authorizes 300 lashes” said a voice in my head. But that was easier said than done. I went home after 67 hours on the job, I collapsed on a makeshift bed made of sticks and rocks and slept.

I woke up in a strange place, familiarity surrounded me, and it was like I was in a dream. There were bright lights everywhere; it originated from a squared glass in the wall. I was in a bed, and by god, it was comfy.

For some bizzare reason, I was filled with dread. I walked out of the bedroom and muscle memory showed me where to go; the kitchen. I opened the wooden door with a twist of a handle, the walls were dark red and the kitchen appliances were sleek as if it was bought just as it was from a shop display, the whole room was striking and modern. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

I saw a coffee maker and thirst overpowered me, I moved my way to the machine and found a glass in the overhead cupboard and poured my cup. I turned around and in slow motion, my fingers unintentionally released the hot cup and my mouth formed an oval shape, ready to release the bubbling fear inside me. The cup smashed the floor and steam hungrily reached for the air.

There was a young woman, what was left of her, on the floor. It looked as if some wild animal was let loose in the house and attacked her, pieces of her were strewn around the kitchen, like a work of art. Blood was smeared all over the sleek white tiles in the kitchen, making my fear rise.

And that was when I realised, the walls weren’t supposed to be red.

They were painted red with her blood.

My memories all came shuddering back, like the impact from a fall.

I was snapped back to my body and for a moment of lucidity, I was encased in walls of white. There was white everywhere, a different kind of white. This was sharp and holds secrets that don’t want to be let out. The light blinded me, reminded me of the worst migraine I ever endured. I tried to move, with no prevail. My arms and legs were bound. 

The small mirror in the room I was trapped in allowed me to find my bearings. I nudged and tugged the bonds, my neck strained to allow me to angle my head to the mirror so i could see a sign outside, hanging from a tall oak tree

“Psych-I-at-ric ward” I said out loud.

“Psychiatric ward”.

 Then I realised this was my own torture, the loss of my mind and my freedom.

I killed her. I killed the only woman I ever truly loved.

She was my past, Hell is my future.