Heat. Scorching, unbearable, suffocating heat. The smell of burning flesh and sulfur was pungent in the air and was enough to make the bile rise up in your throat and your eyes tear. Haunting tortured screams echoed, invading the mind and driving it to further insanity. You could taste death, feel it in your bones as your soul was methodically and slowly decimated into nothingness.

That was where Carl McFarland was; in the depths of hell. His body was strapped to an iron hot table, searing the skin that came into contact with it. Leather binds were wrapped around his wrists, ankles, and chest as he awaited for what lay in store with the rest of his punishment. To the left of him he could hear the sharpening of blades and smell a putrid stench that caused his stomach to constrict painfully.

“Are you scared Carl?” A low menacing voice asked of the man. It was several octaves lower than humanly possible. Each word dripped with malice and sadistic intent.

Carl was frightened and alone. His lips began to mutter prayers he had thought he’d forgotten long ago. “Hail Mary full of grace…”

“SILENCE!” The voice bellowed. It’s volume so loud that it popped his ears. “No God or deity can save you now. You belong to the world of the damned. The sins that you performed to bring you to this place, to me… you’re about to pay for them Carl.” The voice grew closer and the smell grew stronger. Carl just wanted to die… but he already had. There was nothing to save him from fate, his soul had been condemned.

Standing in a well lit concrete hallway with grey walls, grey doors, and florescent lights, a woman waited outside of one of the metal enclosures, peaking in through the window every now and then to see the goings on inside. She was bored. Her posture was slouched slightly and her eyes lazily roamed over the bland color scheme of the area she stood in.

She stepped backwards until her back was almost pressed up against the wall with the door that she should’ve been standing in front of in her direct line of vision. Her hand reached into the front pocket of her blue jeans and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, a habit she had picked up from the ‘topside’. That’s what they called the realm of the living down in the pits of hades.