Between Heaven and Hell

Chapter 1

 

 

Between Heaven and Hell

Copyright © 2012 by Carla Meyer

All Rights Reserved

 

 

CHAPTER 1

“I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much.”

                                                                           ~     Mother Teresa (1910 - 1997)

 

 

 

Fire crept up from beneath the surface, first caressing his ankles and then making its way up to the rest of his body. At first he couldn’t move; he couldn’t make sense of what was happening to him. He looked all around him, and watched as the blazing figures made their way towards him. He didn’t feel pain at first, but once he was touched by the first figure, he could feel nothing but his flesh melting from the bone.

He yelled out in anguish, but the figures paid him no attention. He couldn’t see their features, because they had none. But he heard their agonizing cries, the same kind of shrieks which fled from his melting lips. He pressed his flaming hands against his face, but it made no difference. His skin glued together, as though it was some sort of paste. He was terrified, because the last thing he remembered was the brutal accident. He closed his eyes and still saw the lifeless corpses of his family alongside the road. His father wasn’t paying attention to the road; he didn’t see the truck approach from upfront.

Joey and his sister, Phoebe, had fallen asleep in the backseat and were disorientated when they awoke to the sound of screeching tires and their mother’s fearful screams. It was too late to do anything; they collided head on with the truck, and his family had died instantly. Somehow, his parents ended up outside of the vehicle, and his sister was nowhere to be seen. He was trapped in the car; head injured and paralyzed from the neck down. He could scarcely make out the flames, but he could smell it and he knew he was going to die.

But Joey Olsen didn’t expect to end up in Hell. 

He fought his way throughout the flames, past the blazing figures. He was too slow, and he had come to the conclusion that there was no way out. He couldn’t focus on anything other than the pain, and little by little he felt himself lose grip on his humanity. He felt the yearning for death, but not his own. He felt the urge to kill anything and anyone he could lay his hands on.

He fought against it, not wanting to surrender himself to the aspiration. He refused to accept his lot, because he knew he wasn’t supposed to be in Hell. He had been raised in church; his father was a minister and his mother had devoted her life to her family and faith. Not once had he doubted the existence of God; not once up until that moment.

It was a mistake, he thought to himself in the midst of the suffering.

But he knew God didn’t make mistakes. Somehow he had done something to deserve this, to end up in Hell along with all the grime of Earth and beyond. He idly wondered whether he was sent to Hell for a higher purpose, or perhaps this was a trial to see whether or not he could withstand giving in to evil.