Letters From Hell

'Dear H,

Fire and ice coinciding simultaneously. An area whiter than the pale horse, and colder than it’s tiny ice ridden heart. Tremendous tongues of flame, licking every inch of ground. The two should not be able to coexist.

Constant screams, roaring fire, cracking ice and endless sobs are the only sounds.

Hell is inside your head and everywhere you go, every inch of molten rock you touch has been tainted. Hell is the rock solid belly of the beast in which you are trapped, condemned to live in the acidic bubble of vomit for all eternity.

If you find a way out, let me know. I will die a thousand deaths happy knowing that at least one soul escaped.

From

A Lost Soul.’

The first letter arrived about a month after my eighteenth birthday. Every week a new letter would appear on my door mat. Each one tortured and creepy. Some would describe hell, others would display guilt and remorse, others would go into great detail about the sins of their lives. I hated those the most. After a third and fourth arrived I tried having the post blocked but it didn’t seem to work. 

Eventually, my mum explained that the letters were preparation for my future career. I was to take over from my father as a judge of the dead. I would die at the grand age of sixty-six and start working in the family business. Until then I was free to lead a normal life. Preferably one where I created an heir to the position.

Envelope number one hundred and twenty two dropped onto the mat. Brown and charred, just like the others. The only sounds were the soft pat of the paper hitting the ground and the distant clang of the metal gate shutting behind the postman. I’d grown to hate him and the oversized red satchel flung over his shoulder. There was no sense in taking it out on him though, he was just the messenger.

Picking up the new addition to my continually growing pile I turned it over in my hands. This one was warmer, more charred than the others. Inside I knew I’d find another voice. Another persona caught between the ink and the page. Tearing at the already dog eared flap I pulled the tatty piece of paper out from within and began to read.

‘ H, ‘He is coming, be ready.’ -Dad ’’

I gasped and sat heavily on the bottom step. Frozen to the spot I didn’t move until my mum appeared and shook me gently. Looking up at her I blinked and handed her the letter.

“No. No, it’s too early! I don’t understand!” she cried.

“Me neither.” I muttered.

*****

It was a bleary Saturday afternoon when he turned up. Dressed in black from head to foot, leaning against the door frame when I answered the bell. A trilby balanced on his slick black hair and a cigarette hung from his crooked smile.

“You’re early.” I said defiantly. Despite the note I had not expected the boss himself to come calling. Thankfully my shock was out weighed by my anger.

“True.” he replied glancing sideways at me.

“Why are you here?” I snapped.

“You know why.” he replied coolly.

“But, why now?” I pleaded, annoyed at myself for letting the desperation in my voice show.

“Don’t worry, it’s temporary,” he said, “I think.” he added under his breath but I caught the whisper.

“What’s going on?” My mother’s voice rang out from behind me, I turned. Greeted by her pale, tortured face I reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“My regards Mrs M.” The Lord of the Underworld said tipping his hat. Sticky black tendrils of charm extended from his ugly mouth.

“Apologies for the untimely arrival but we’ve had to bring the schedule forward.” he said.

In response she merely raised and eyebrow.

“We’ve had to break from tradition.” he added looking back to me. “Instead of taking over from your father, you’ll be working with him. All three of you are needed.”

“All three?” I questioned.

“Yes. There are three judges of the dead. Do you honestly think I’d entrust that job to just one soul!” He laughed out loud, throwing his head back.

“It’ll be fun, you’ll make new friends.” he winked. “Now come on, I haven’t got all day.” he demanded checking his watch and glancing over his shoulder to the horizon.

With a sly smile he held out a hand towards me, I regarded the fleshy protrusion and turned to my mother. A kind, loving look cast over her face and she smiled. We both knew there was no arguing. Resisting the urge to cling onto her and never let go I squeezed gently and released her shoulder, raising my other hand to meet the Devils’.

“What’s so important that you came personally?” My mother intervened. There was a pause in which he regarded her carefully. Something stirred beneath his eyes and I was certain it was displeasure but with the words he spoke came only menace.

“The apocalypse.” 

The glint passed over his eyes and he licked his teeth. I witnessed the horror in my mother’s eyes, the breath leave her body and I lunged. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave her alone to face the end of the world. But the Devil was cunning and my hand was already in his when the words passed his deceiving lips. In the blink of an eye my mother, my home, my life and my world were ripped away.

'Letter From Hell' copyright of Lucy Holland, 29.01.2016