Heaven and Hell (10 page)

“I am not the least bit interested in your body,” said the demon, his impatience obvious in his tone of voice. “Your form is disgusting to me, I assure you. You are an obscenity, a pale mirror image of the Creator, molded in flesh. Only He could be so egotistical. Now put those rags on—cover yourself, woman, before you make me ill.”

Serena reluctantly complied. Had she decided to obey out of her own human modesty, or had this thing somehow compelled her obedience? It was an outlandish thought, but she wasn’t so sure that it wasn’t true. After all, this was Hell, she’d have to get used to doing things, and experiencing things, that she didn’t like, and she’d be doing and experiencing them for all eternity. Her heart sank even more.

Serena picked up the tattered skirt, and stepped into the dirty, primitive garment, pulling it up around her hips. For a moment she was certain that it was too small for her, that it would rip, yet it molded itself to fit her perfectly; the uneven hem of the skirt was scandalously short, barely covering her intimate parts.

Then she picked up the top and slipped it over her head. Like the awful skirt, it too seemed initially too tight. Yet, as she pulled it on, it conformed to fit her perfectly. It was unnatural.

The fabric had a foul stench—a strong odor of decay and death. Serena felt ill in it. As much as she might have dreaded appearing before some sort of tribunal naked, it might well have been preferable to what she now wore.

Somewhere in the New Testament, she had read that our righteousness is as filthy rags before the Lord. She also recalled a parable about a man who came to the Lord’s banquet table in rags. When the Lord asked the man why he was dressed so, he had no excuse. That man had been bound and cast out into outer darkness, hadn’t he? Could those Scriptures have been alluding to this? She couldn’t say.

“Yes, better,” said the demon, scanning his victim carefully. “That garb is most unique. It will endure the harshest environments Hell has to offer, as you shall soon discover. In time, it will become almost a part of you.” It was then that his glowing eyes focused upon her hand. “Your wedding ring—remove it!”

The words hit Serena hard. “But it’s all I have left of my marriage, beyond the love I feel for Chris in my heart. Please, let me wear it. If there is any mercy within you, please let me keep this one thing.” Serena’s voice was faltering, pleading.

“You don’t have a husband, wench,” retorted the dark figure, his tone cruel and taunting. “This Son of God, of whom you dream, is only a husband of your lurid fantasies. You’re pathetic. Surely you must realize that you are not so much as a fading memory to him. Even if you were, why would he desire the likes of you? You’re a whore, unclean, nothing more than fuel for the eternal flames of Hell.”

A slight chuckle emanated from the dark form. “Ah, alas, you have not so much as a single mourner. In the end, none beyond this place will so much as remember that you ever existed. But we shall not forget you. We shall see to it that you receive everything that is coming to you. Now, remove the ring!”

Tears appeared in Serena’s eyes as she reached for the band of gold. The tears had turned to sobs by the time the ring cleared her finger and fell to the floor. She heard the clink as the ring hit the stone. Such a cold sound, and with its last reverberation, her previous life vanished into the mists of the dead past.

“Much better,” commented the dark being.

There was a loud clank, as a pair of jet black manacles connected together by a short, but formidable chain, struck the floor at Serena’s feet. They appeared heavy and crude, the sort of thing that one might have seen upon an Earthly prisoner of the distant past.

“These shall be the bands you wear now. Pick them up, wench!” commanded the shadowy form beyond the bars. “They will fit about your wrists, restraining your hands behind your back. Now, get them on!”

Serena whimpered as she picked up the manacles. Examining them more closely, she discovered that while the outside surface of the manacles were smooth, the inside surface, that which would be in contact with her skin, was brutally rough, covered with tiny needle-sharp barbs. Yet, the manacles appeared to have no locking mechanism, or even a catch to hold them shut around her wrists.

“If you continue to delay, wench, I promise that I will make this all the more uncomfortable for you,” said the demonic being. “Believe me; you don’t want to know just how uncomfortable things can get.”

Serena placed one of the manacles about her left wrist and began to close it carefully. It was obvious that it would be very tight when completely closed. The two halves had nearly met when the thing seemed to suddenly come alive. Snapping shut as if powerfully magnetized. She winced in pain as the metal barbs dug into her flesh.

The meeting point of the two halves of the manacle became momentarily red hot. Serena cried out in pain as she saw a cloud of smoke and heard the sound and smell of sizzling flesh seep from beneath the glowing irons. She struggled to control herself, to stifle her screams, but to no avail. The cell reverberated with her cries of agony. After a moment the glow and the pain faded, to reveal a single band of uninterrupted metal wrapped tightly around her wrist.

“Place your hands behind your back, and place the other manacle around your right wrist,” commanded the dark being.

Serena looked toward the demon incredulously. After experiencing that pain, how could she willingly submit to it again? The answer came more swiftly than she could have imagined, as she was struck by crippling stomach cramps.

“Do we really have to continue with this, or are you going to obey?” the dark being asked.

Almost without thinking, Serena thrust her arms behind her back and searched blindly for the open manacle. All the while the terrible pain in her stomach intensified. She had fallen to her knees now, struggling to thrust her right wrist into the remaining open manacle. Her animal instincts had taken control, as she sought for any means to escape the horrible pain wrenching in her gut. The sharp bite around her right wrist, followed by the agonizing heat, told her that she had succeeded. The pain in her stomach vanished, replaced by a new agony.

Serena twisted and stretched her arms as far behind her as she could in an attempt to move the red hot manacle away from her bare back. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she gasped pathetically as the searing pain exploded her senses. Never had she experienced such agony. By the time the manacle had begun to cool, her body was drenched in perspiration, and her face in tears. She could only imagine what her damaged wrists looked like.

“Very good,” said the dark form, drawing closer. “You’re a relatively smart wench; I thought you’d see reason eventually.”

For the first time Serena saw his face. It was gaunt and terribly thin, with sunken cheeks and deep-set eyes. It was like the face of a corpse with a devious smile. Quite unexpectedly, the door to her cell swung open wide.

“Rise,” commanded the dark being, extending a slender arm in her direction. “Your audience with the master, your sentencing, is at hand.”

With difficulty, Serena rose on unsteady legs, and nearly stumbled from the cell into the misty corridor. She saw that Benny’s cell was empty and the corridor was quiet; everyone was gone. How could this be? Had that much time passed?

“Where are the others?” she asked.

The dark being scowled, “Who do you think you are? No one here owes you any answers. Now, move!”

Serena was grabbed roughly and pulled toward her captor. She felt cruel hands and cold metal around her throat as a heavy black collar was thrust around her neck, a long chain trailing from the front. She was almost relieved when she heard the metallic click of the latch as the collar locked into place. There was no glowing metal, no searing heat to fuse the band together, only a conventional lock. She felt a hard tug on the chain as she was quickly dragged down the corridor by the tall hooded figure, past row after row of empty cells.

A swirling vortex of deepest crimson materialized before them. She tried to pull away, but it was a futile gesture. The dark hooded figure before her seemed to dematerialize at the threshold of this other worldly tunnel, flowing into the turbulent corridor, like a curling black mist caught up by a whirlwind. An instant later, Serena was jerked by the neck chain into the highly charged environment of the vortex. She was swept off her feet by gale force winds, even as cold, blue electricity arced around her. In this turbulent tunnel of elemental force, she discovered a new definition of pain. She felt the electricity coursing through her body and experienced the terrible nausea.

She prayed for an end of it, but it seemed to go on and on, carrying her through swirling clouds of kaleidoscopic vapors, whose icy touch made the coldest winter wind feel balmy by comparison. Then there was blackness, the deepest and most profound night she had ever experienced.

Through it all, the chain linked to the collar around her neck stretched out before her, glowing and pulsing with static electricity—extending into infinity. Though she could no longer see the dark being at the other end, his presence was betrayed by the tautness of the chain and the irresistible force that propelled her onward, viciously choking her.

Ahead, a faint point of light materialized like a dim star amidst the inky blackness of the void. It was becoming larger and brighter by the second. It grew to become a portal of light, perhaps a way out. She felt a sense of abrupt deceleration, then falling.

Serena slammed face first into the hard stone floor. With her hands chained behind her back, there was no way for her to break her fall. She lay on the cold floor, unable to move. She was still in pain, but thankful to be out of the horrible vortex.

After a moment, she lifted her head and looked around. The floor was shimmering black marble, reflecting the amber light of the hundred blazing torches mounted along the gray stone block walls. Hanging from the walls were large, intricate tapestries depicting dark skies with swarms of demons, terrible astral battles between great armies of angels, and grotesque acts of mayhem and torture. Serena was certain that the tapestries told some sort of story. Perhaps it was a pictorial account of the fall from Heaven.

Standing near the fringes of the room was a great throng of beings with an astonishing variety of forms. There were horned demons with bat-like wings, small and muscular imps with barbed tails and sharp horns, while still others looked like tall, pale women with cloven feet and claw-like hands. It was a nightmarish company whose presence brought terror to Serena’s soul.

She turned her attention from the motley crew of bipeds and strained to look behind her. She saw a large ring of metal that looked to be made of copper or brass. It stood upright upon a finely fashioned golden support. Through the open ring, Serena saw not the wall beyond, but blackness, a void of infinite depth, the void of outer darkness. Around the inner edge of the ring, Serena could see an occasional arc of blue lightning. It was a gateway, most likely the means through which she had entered this chamber of nightmares.

Serena turned her head to look forward. The dark figure stood before her, her chain in his hand. Several yards beyond him, three wide marble steps led up to a large platform, covered by a crimson red carpet. At the center of the grand stage was an ornate golden throne, whose dollar value on Earth would surely have been incalculable. Upon the throne sat a tall figure draped in deep blue velvet. In his hand he held a golden scepter, upon the end of which was a finely cut, fist-sized gem, with a center that glowed with a crimson light. Serena felt a terrible chill in his presence. It didn’t take a theological scholar to realize who was seated before her.

She had heard much speculation over the years regarding the devil’s appearance; red suit, horns, cloven feet, and a forked tail, were among a few of the features traditionally attributed to him. Yet the appearance of this prince of darkness was not quite what she had expected. He was as tall as the angels, yet his physical appearance was far more akin to that of a human male. He was in all aspects well proportioned, moderately muscular, and his flowing dark hair bore just the trace of gray around his temples. His eyes were brown, and his tan skin was flawlessly smooth without wrinkles.

Had she not known better, Serena might have guessed his age as early forties. The only traditional aspect of his appearance was his small dark goatee. All in all, he was darkly handsome. In fact, Serena was certain that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He had a powerful animal magnetism that any woman would have found most difficult to resist. Perhaps that was his intent.

Yet, beyond his physical appearance, he projected a regal bearing—a confidence in his authority and power, all without saying a word. Now, he was scanning the woman before him very carefully. He seemed to like what he saw. Serena resolved to be careful about what she said and did before the prince of darkness. How she conducted herself here could have far-reaching consequences. This being held her destiny, indeed her eternity, within his hands. Perhaps, just perhaps, he might be inclined to be merciful if he liked her.

Satan rose to his feet and took several steps in Serena’s direction. The dark figure holding her chain moved toward Serena. “Kneel before the master!” he commanded, roughly pulling Serena by her collar, lifting her from the floor, forcing her into a kneeling position facing the prince. She winced in pain.

“Gently, Marlock,” instructed satan, who brushed the bottom of his goatee with the index finger of his left hand. “We don’t wish to damage her, at least not yet.” Satan turned his attention to a dark robed figure to his left, one who stood at the bottom of the steps, holding a thick black book in his hand. “Now, who do we have here?”