The demon approached me in a very square business suit with a red tie and shoulder pads that just did not work. It asked me if the place looked right.
“I don’t know. Hell’s taught to be red with fire and brimstone and eternal suffering and screaming from the tortured souls of the damned,” I kind of mumbled. I asked with only vague interest in my ever-monotone voice, “Why are you in a business suit, dude.”
“Oh, well every few business days, as I suppose Earth would call them, Beelzebub lets us get costumes like that American hollerday Halloween. Anyway, Hell is…broken for right now,” it scratched its head with an embarrassed look on its face but nevertheless a buttery-smooth voice. “Space and time in these otherworldly planes as well. Due to this inconvenience, while Beelzebub and Yahweh try to fix time, Beelzebub has made Hell comfortable. So, I guess you can relax and mingle, homegirl. But with that said, it’s going to snap away at a random time, so enjoy it while you can.”
“Uh, alright.” I was never one to mingle on my own, I always let people approach me. I’m also the worrying type, never taking advantage of that sweet free time that I’m jealous everyone else has.
“And since time is broken…,” the demon facepalms itself. “Goddammit,” it groans with no echo. “We’re going to be waiting for-literal-ever! Time is broken!” It throws an orb that I didn’t notice it was holding at the ground. It bounces away from it and the demon devilishly shrieks and jumps around angrily, stomping and swinging its fists and legs like in a temper tantrum.
I don’t really know or care what to do, so I sit down and wait for the demon to stop its tantrum. I realize that I’ve been clad in a prisoner’s jumpsuit…with faux fur lining on the inside. Don’t want us getting too comfortable now.
After some time, that demon shuts up finally and just lies there, simply staring into what should be called the sky. I can feel its anger burning into me. Mostly because its flaming spade tail is embedded into the ground beneath me.
And some time later, another person pops in. I suppose the bloody gates of hell are out of order due to time being broken. Easier in general than making someone stand at the gates. Pat pat pat, the thighs…logistics…pffffff-tsh. Pffffff-tsh. Pffffff-tsh bum duh tsh… Nunu-nunu-nunu-NUUU, nunununuNUUUOOOO nunuNUUU nunuNUUU nuuunuuunuuuWooo…
I really ought to go try making friends. But…Satan might come back any minute and set us all back to fire and brimstone and hellish justice. Then it wouldn’t have made a difference.
But time’s broken, what’s a minute when time is ad infinitum?
But maybe they’ve fixed it already and are giving us genuine leisure time?
And why to the new people? We haven’t suffered eternally in hellscape yet. And shouldn’t there be more dead people arriving every, uh, “minute?” I’ve only seen like two. Were all the movies and TV shows and churches and books and whatnot wrong? Do most people go to Heaven? Then how did I get sent to hell? I mean I can tell that there are millions upon billions of people here. The vastness and endless noise catapulted into my eyes and ears just tell me the scale of grandeur that Hell needs.
I ask that demon how many people are officially in Hell.
“A few hundred million.”
“Can you be more specific, please?”
“A fucking few hundred million,” it sighs and whips its tail at me. “Fuck off, now, girlie.”
—
Diary No. 541
A few many long whiles have passed. I cannot remember much before the past while. Figure a while to be about 15 days, a long while about 30 days, but without a need or even urge to sleep, the concept of a day is also now meaningless to me, a very once-irregular sleeper.
It is still pleasant here in Hell. I still haven’t really conversed with anyone yet. I can’t really take it upon myself. I don’t know anyone here. I don’t particularly care to get to know anyone. But I still kinda wanna. It sucks being bored all the damn time.
Some people have approached me, asking me if I knew what was going on. I said I don’t really know, a demon told me time was broken and the Devil made Hell comfortable while he and God tried to fix time.
We were also told that all of our comforts would be ripped away from us and thrown away in the blink of an eye without warning.
—
Diary #617
I finally talked to someone. They were a Swiss woman. She was nice until she asked me about my favorite cut of meat, then she started talking about the joys of killing cattle with her bare hands. She “taught” me how to strangle a pig properly by tackling a morbidly obese man who had just arrived, covered in sweat and oil. She apoloɑ
Yoobtoobr t1_j1sznv3 wrote
Reply to [WP] You died and awoke in the afterlife. It's quite nice actually. The people and atmosphere are a lot nicer than you are used to and there is no stress or pressure. When you ask what good deed got you into heaven you are informed that this is hell, followed by a visit from a very concerned demon. by Kitty_Fuchs
The demon approached me in a very square business suit with a red tie and shoulder pads that just did not work. It asked me if the place looked right.
“I don’t know. Hell’s taught to be red with fire and brimstone and eternal suffering and screaming from the tortured souls of the damned,” I kind of mumbled. I asked with only vague interest in my ever-monotone voice, “Why are you in a business suit, dude.”
“Oh, well every few business days, as I suppose Earth would call them, Beelzebub lets us get costumes like that American hollerday Halloween. Anyway, Hell is…broken for right now,” it scratched its head with an embarrassed look on its face but nevertheless a buttery-smooth voice. “Space and time in these otherworldly planes as well. Due to this inconvenience, while Beelzebub and Yahweh try to fix time, Beelzebub has made Hell comfortable. So, I guess you can relax and mingle, homegirl. But with that said, it’s going to snap away at a random time, so enjoy it while you can.”
“Uh, alright.” I was never one to mingle on my own, I always let people approach me. I’m also the worrying type, never taking advantage of that sweet free time that I’m jealous everyone else has.
“And since time is broken…,” the demon facepalms itself. “Goddammit,” it groans with no echo. “We’re going to be waiting for-literal-ever! Time is broken!” It throws an orb that I didn’t notice it was holding at the ground. It bounces away from it and the demon devilishly shrieks and jumps around angrily, stomping and swinging its fists and legs like in a temper tantrum.
I don’t really know or care what to do, so I sit down and wait for the demon to stop its tantrum. I realize that I’ve been clad in a prisoner’s jumpsuit…with faux fur lining on the inside. Don’t want us getting too comfortable now.
After some time, that demon shuts up finally and just lies there, simply staring into what should be called the sky. I can feel its anger burning into me. Mostly because its flaming spade tail is embedded into the ground beneath me.
And some time later, another person pops in. I suppose the bloody gates of hell are out of order due to time being broken. Easier in general than making someone stand at the gates. Pat pat pat, the thighs…logistics…pffffff-tsh. Pffffff-tsh. Pffffff-tsh bum duh tsh… Nunu-nunu-nunu-NUUU, nunununuNUUUOOOO nunuNUUU nunuNUUU nuuunuuunuuuWooo…
I really ought to go try making friends. But…Satan might come back any minute and set us all back to fire and brimstone and hellish justice. Then it wouldn’t have made a difference.
But time’s broken, what’s a minute when time is ad infinitum?
But maybe they’ve fixed it already and are giving us genuine leisure time?
And why to the new people? We haven’t suffered eternally in hellscape yet. And shouldn’t there be more dead people arriving every, uh, “minute?” I’ve only seen like two. Were all the movies and TV shows and churches and books and whatnot wrong? Do most people go to Heaven? Then how did I get sent to hell? I mean I can tell that there are millions upon billions of people here. The vastness and endless noise catapulted into my eyes and ears just tell me the scale of grandeur that Hell needs.
I ask that demon how many people are officially in Hell.
“A few hundred million.”
“Can you be more specific, please?”
“A fucking few hundred million,” it sighs and whips its tail at me. “Fuck off, now, girlie.”
—
Diary No. 541
A few many long whiles have passed. I cannot remember much before the past while. Figure a while to be about 15 days, a long while about 30 days, but without a need or even urge to sleep, the concept of a day is also now meaningless to me, a very once-irregular sleeper.
It is still pleasant here in Hell. I still haven’t really conversed with anyone yet. I can’t really take it upon myself. I don’t know anyone here. I don’t particularly care to get to know anyone. But I still kinda wanna. It sucks being bored all the damn time.
Some people have approached me, asking me if I knew what was going on. I said I don’t really know, a demon told me time was broken and the Devil made Hell comfortable while he and God tried to fix time.
We were also told that all of our comforts would be ripped away from us and thrown away in the blink of an eye without warning.
—
Diary #617
I finally talked to someone. They were a Swiss woman. She was nice until she asked me about my favorite cut of meat, then she started talking about the joys of killing cattle with her bare hands. She “taught” me how to strangle a pig properly by tackling a morbidly obese man who had just arrived, covered in sweat and oil. She apoloɑ