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My Personal Hell

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Everyone has their own personal Hell, are the words that ran through my head 7 hundred thousand times as the tall, stocky prison guards escorted me to the execution room. My arms started to hurt as they were bent in an awkward position, held by the straight jacket; tightly strapped over my orange prison jumpsuit. I heard the various prisoners of D-Block shouting random shit out to me as I passed them. One of the inmates; Frank Morris went as far as stopping me; just to mock me.

“I bet tonight’s show will be a real shocker ‘uh pretty boy?”

“I’ll see you in Hell Morris, you piece of shit!”

“Meh, if I can’t escape this shithole ya’ sure will buddy.”

“We were never buddies Frankie.” He reached his long, skinny arms out to strangle me but failed as a guard smacked his calloused knuckles with his guard’s baton.

Frank flinched at this, stepping back while rubbing his hands and scowling the guard with bad looks.

“Sure, sure kiddo; when ya’ get there, tell Doc to fuck himself alright?”

“Why don’t you do the same?”

“Those are some fighting words Charles!” A guard stepped in and pushed him back through the bars on his cell.

“If you don’t shut up, I will break both of your hands Frank.”

That immediately made Morris walk back to his bunk bed and sit down slowly before waving to me a sad goodbye, I knew the asshole hated me as much as I hated him but he still felt sorry for me. I mean; I didn’t have a choice, I did not provoke the guards or the warden to do this. Unlike Arthur ‘Doc’ Baker who was killed trying to break outta here a couple of years ago. I admit that I brought these life sentences upon myself, I am a fucking psychopath. Bat-shit crazy; but who isn’t in a world like this? Another prisoner stopped me to send me his condolences…sort of.

“Dat’s what ya get for bangin’ my wife Kelly! You son of a-" The other guard spoke up

“Enough sympathy for the dead-man. Let’s go!” He violently shoved me forward and a horrible look appeared on my pale face. We finally reached the heavy, armored, metal doors to the execution room. Warden James A. Johnston was standing there smirking at me, holding the keys to the huge doors. One of the guards beside me nodded and he unlocked the doors with a loud click before two more beefy guards walked up from behind me and forced the doors open with a loud squeak then creak. A guard behind me pushed me inside the room and forced me into the chair we called ‘Old Sparky’ before strapping a metal piece onto my head tightly and wrapping my limbs with leather straps.

“I’ll see you in Hell too James!”

“I’m sure you will Charles..” He laughed. “I’m sure you will.”

As I embraced my horrible fate I peered into the bulletproof, spectating glass ahead of me that divided this now-empty room from the spectating room that contained the Warden, 5 guards and the families of all those I have abused, raped, murdered, etc… As I said; I’m a fucking psychopath, but in a world like this; who isn’t? I am proud to admit it, I would do it again. I am being executed for 23 killings. Most of which consisted of young women or boys whom I raped, molested or just didn’t like…or their parents. I actually killed 36 people in total. I was just never caught or convicted for those extra…treats. I killed 9 police officers and 3 prison guards in my first escape from this place. I was caught a few weeks after those events however. It’s not like I gave a fuck. As I stared into the eyes of the family members of my victims, I saw one mother start crying and the warden of the prison reaching for the huge, magnetic switch. He nodded and pulled it down. I felt the electricity run through my body, I screamed and squealed like a little girl as my flesh and blood started to boil like molten lava underneath my rotting ground-like skin. Everyone from behind the glass looked away except for the sadistic warden Johnston who laughed cruelly as my brain melted like black ice in an oven. Suddenly the searing, electrifying pain stopped. Everything went white. Then black. I gasped and woke up, coughing and hacking while laying upon a small, bare bed with a hard, lumpy mattress in a strange white room with no windows and a tightly sealed door. The room was moderately large and everything was dull, bare and pure white. The walls, the door, the bed and even the mattress. In the corner there was a small toilet in the style you would see in a prison. I jumped up off of the bed out of pure reaction and screamed.

“Where the fuck am I!?”


No answer.

I strongly marched up and down the room lengthwise with my arms behind my back; holding onto each other tightly as if they were living creatures losing hope as I was at this time. I looked down and realized I was wearing a black prison jumpsuit similar to that of which I was wearing back at the old nuthouse. I grumbled and grasped the bridge of my nose tightly in frustration. There was a knock at the door. I stopped for a moment out of surprise. Who could it be?

I heard a voice from beyond the door. It sounded as if it belonged to a young woman about 16-19 years old. The kind of person I strived to truly meet. To get close to.

“Doctor Charles Kelly? Are you in there? Are you awake?” I sighed and replied without strife.

“Sorry my dear, I am no longer a doctor; but yes. I am here. I am demanding to know who the fuck you are and where the Hell I am. Tell me or there will be consequences.”

She again replied after a few moments of an awkward silence.

“Hell; that is just it. You are in Hell.”


“You just died and your soul has been harvested by the dark lord. It’s about as simple as that, I will be your guide; this is your new home.”

I heard keys rattling as the huge, metal door was unlocked by the young lady. She entered the room without hesitation. She had gorgeous, natural, blonde hair that was tied in a bun sort of maneuver to the back of her head, her face was obviously free of any sort of makeup; I noticed this as I stared into her stunning blue-green eyes curiously. Her rosy red lips stuck out like yellow on black and her perfectly shaped nose made me want to just…I stopped.

I wanted to get past that. I was no longer who I used to be. At least I wanted to believe that; certain parts of me didn’t. Her magnificently, beautiful eyes were covered by large, black, prescription, glasses that made her irises appear much larger. I looked down upon her rosy red cheeks, extraordinarily special looking; something you could only witness once in a lifetime. Like a perfect sunset, although there were many like it; I sensed that this one was absolutely perfect. I had never felt such emotions before in my sixty-seven years of life. It felt as if my frozen, microscopic heart was growing and melting at the same time. It felt as if I was…in love. Her perfect lips curled into a twisted smirk as she sensed I was spacing out into her universally, wonderful eyes.

“If I am dead-and in Hell; why has this ride been so perfect so far?”

“Maybe because I have merely chosen the form that suits you the most. Something or-someone you would feel comfortable with.”

“But I don’t feel comfortable, my chest i-it, it hurts.”

“Oh well, you are already dead so what is the worst that could happen?” She let out an adorable giggle before walking out into the long, dark hallway filled with identical rooms door by door, all locked.

“Are you coming Charles?” I nodded silently and followed her.

She was dressed in a white lab-coat covering a red, buttoned shirt above a dark skirt that ran to her knees. Even further down she was wearing a pair of high heeled stilettos. I followed in pure ecstasy.

“So how does this work? Where are we going? What is goi-”

“First of all, stop with the questions; second of all, I am not your friend nor am I your enemy. I am merely your guide.” She signaled for me to enter and old, rusty, unsteady elevator shaft at the end of the hallway. I did so and she followed.

“Tell me Mr. Kelly; have you ever heard of the nine great plains of Hell?”

“Who hasn’t miss..?”

“Miss Nashton, Emma Nashton, of course that is merely a pen name. I am not even a human; like I said, I chose a form that you would like. Something you would not fear.”

Again, I nodded slowly as she moved her hand to press a red button on the inside of the elevator while holding a brown clipboard with a massive amount of paper stacked onto it.

“So you are a...”

“A demon. It’s about as simple as that. I am the demon representing Lust.”

The elevator ride felt like it was taking forever, the whole time it felt as if the contraption was going to fall and kill us both but…well…I was already dead.

“I am not sure whether this is a nightmare or a dream come true.”

“Why do you say that Mr. Kelly?”

“Oh, no reason my dear.” After about twenty-five minutes we finally stopped.

The doors screeched open, hurting my ears. It felt as if my ears were going to bleed.

“We’re here Charles.”

“Where is here?”

“Where do you think? Inferno or well…Dante. The second plain of Hell.”


“Yes. You are here for the people you hurt. You know what you did. Well for that you now get to sit here and rot for the rest of eternity. Have fun Mr. Kelly.” She pushed me out of the elevator and it started to go up again without me this time.

Dante or well…Inferno was a medieval based setting. As I looked around from the elevator shaft that had now disappeared I saw a very long corridor-like hallway that was filled with eerie paintings that stared at me as I walked past. These paintings were of other people that were eternally stuck within this dimension such as Helen of Troy or Marilyn Monroe. I kept walking and walking and walking, I could not see the end of this hallway. It angered me. It felt as if I walked at least 10 miles by now. I looked around, leaning my hands on my knees, panting for air. On both sides of the hall there were curiously, mysterious rooms in all different styles.

There were also open windows throughout the long hallway. Out through the windows I could see the hellish plains that lied below. There were small volcanoes spewing out molten lava, flying into the sky that was roofed by a cave ceiling. It looked as if I was underground. I could hear screams from the prisoners in the distance and in the strange rooms that layed ahead.

On the left I saw a padded cell with a man tied up in a strait jacket, hanging upside down from the ceiling by his feet, below him layed a burning pit of lava. Another room had a man buried in a sandy pit within the room, screaming as rocks pelted his face, wounding him further and further for eternity and another room where a man was tied up with all of his limbs from the ceiling and floor being beaten by men dressed in robes with electrically charged Eskrima Sticks, he was screaming as they burnt his bare, exposed skin.

On the right I saw a naked woman lying on a metal operating table with a mysterious, spiked helmet around her head, the spikes were strategically placed on the inside so she was in a position in which if she moved; the helmet would compress and demolish her wet, teary face. The woman was being cut, spliced and operated on by a man in a plague doctor outfit. She was alive and awake the entire time while the man was pulling her organs and intestines out every which way. In the other two rooms, a man was being burnt and branded with metal cattle prods on the top of his exposed body and being beaten with metal baseball bats by the same minions; dressed in plague doctor outfits below while another man was being impaled and revived over and over and over again through the chest while he was tied up in an extremely awkward position, his arms on the ceiling and his legs planted on the floor.

Hell was a good place for me. I liked it here so far. I finally reached the end of the one hundred kilometer hallway, (Or at least it felt like so). My calves burnt like there would be no tomorrow. There were two large, demonic red doors blocking my way, I was out of breath so I sat down, leaning against the hallway’s enormously, tall walls.

As I did this; two demonic beings beat me to unconsciousness. Everything went white. Then black. I awoke and was strapped in a chair by my arms, legs and waste. I tried to squirm but it was physically impossible. Across the room; an enormous man sat behind a brown, maple office desk in a black office chair. He was wearing a red mask covering his entire head and a black pinstripe suit over a white, blood-stained shirt. He was strumming his fingers along viciously.

“Charles Kelly?”

“Satan?” I replied sarcastically.

“How did you know?”

“Wait…” I sighed. “Just a wild guess.”

His voice was entirely booming and deep. It sounded like a growl almost but at the same time it sounded fairly calm. His voice was conquering.

“How shall we decide your eternally, painful punishment?”

I was silent.

“You raped fifteen little boys and girls before killing their parents and themselves. You killed eight random people that you…just didn’t like and you murdered thirteen officers of the law all before…playing with their corpses. Well now; I didn’t see that coming. Kelly, I really do wonder what goes on in that fucked up mind of yours.”

“I wonder that too myself sometimes.”

There was an explosion beneath me and I was blithered with smoke as I once again started hacking and coughing. When I stopped and looked around I was exposed, strapped on a wheel similar to that to the Wheel of Fortune. Standing beside me, was the beastly man that smiled at me and spun the wheel as hard as he could. He let out a grunt as he pushed the humongous wheel down. I screamed like a bitch as I started to feel sick and the wheel came to an eventual stop. I heard his booming voice again as the world started spinning for me out of dizziness.

“Well, well…”

I was silent.

Suddenly everything went black.

Then white.

Then grey.

I opened my eyes to notice that all of this shit was just a mere dream, I never really died ‘nor did I go to Hell, I was just sleeping; I woke up to find that I was staring at the bottom of the bed above me. The warden walked into my cell.

“Alright Charles, let’s get going.”


“You are being executed today; I am sure it will be a real shocker!” He laughed and rubbed his calloused hands together roughly as two large guards walked over to me and carried me away as I started screaming and ranting about my nightmare

I could barely breathe as this tight straight jacket crushed my body.

“... But to that second circle of sad hell,

Where ‘mid the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw

Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell

Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw, Pale were the lips I kiss’d, and fair the form

I floated with, about that melancholy storm.”

-John Keats

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