Chapter 6
Emmie
Idare to peek my eyes open as I'm lightly jostled in the Gatekeeper's arms. Surely it's only been ten minutes since I arrived here, but my body feels so drained of energy, it could have been hours.
Maybe time moves differently here. I'm in Hell … apparently. The Seventh Realm if we’re being specific.
My irrational mind wants to scream and run headfirst into a wall at full speed, at the same time, the rational part wants to make a list.
Things that make sense if I am in Hell.
Red sun - seems on brand for a Hell scape.
Spider man monsters - terrifying. Find out its real name because I can't be yelling watch out, spider man if I see another one. He could have said it but I’ll need to follow up … I was distracted … Because, spider man … Does it need more explanation than that? Please don't let me see one.
Big bottomless black lake, aka, the Gate. Couldn't there just be a door?
Things that don't make sense in Hell.
Farmland or wheat fields? I need to find out what they are and if I can eat it. Can I even eat here, or do I just exist?
Cotton clothing. It's just weird. Surely someone has a black robe tucked away in the wardrobe. Something to match a sickle? Or at least some sort of leather vest? With spikes? That feels more appropriate for Hell, not hand spun cotton.
Big bottomless black lake. Surely a door is more better suited … an archway?
A quaint white cottage stands behind a small green garden in the middle of the fields. It's close enough to the edge of the water to have easy access, but far enough away to still be a feature. Nothing like where I've come from. Harsh concrete and brick have no place in a landscape like this.
“Human?” The Gatekeeper's voice rasps. “I would like to put you down now. We are at my home. I sense no danger nearby.”
His home?
Wait? Did I miss the part where the giant Gatekeeper moonlights as a farmer? Where are the burning pits and the screaming souls? Surely there are skeletons dragging chains somewhere.
“I will hold your hand. It will bring us both comfort.”
My cheeks grow warm at his words. “Oh,” I gasp as he lowers my body, his piercing blue eyes watching me so intently I don't know where to look. Averting my gaze downward, I’m met with the aerial view of his naked cock.
“Why are you naked?” I practically shriek, quickly glancing around to make sure there are no more spider men lurking before I scramble off him, careful to avoid his anaconda trouser snake.
“Where’s your underwear? And don’t tell me they magically disappeared.” Unbelievable. “Great, even in Hell, there are creeps trying to get into your pants. Fucking brilliant.” I half yell, throwing my hands in the air as I start to pace.
“My body offends you? I apologise, human. I shall cover it immediately.” He strides to a washing line at the rear of the house, taking a shirt and pair of pants off the line and quickly donning them.
“Is this more to your liking? Forgive me,” he says, returning and bowing his head.
“Would you like me to cover my face in your presence also?” The sincerity of his voice makes me grow even more frustrated that I yelled at him.
I guess I am as foreign to him as he is to me, but it doesn't make me feel better.
I thought I was better prepared to handle anything I was going to see back at the hot springs, but I panicked with how intense the spiderman was.
I was meant to be cool and alluring but all that happened is I fell apart, and now I'm taking it out on the one person, monster, who has tried to be nice to me.
“I'm sorry, I'm a jack-ass. This is just a lot to take in,” I mumble, looking at my feet. My stomach choosing that exact point in time to let out a loud rumble.
“Come, Jack-ass. I will show you my home and feed you. Your body looks tired.” Did he just?
“No, no, my name's not jack-ass. Well, it should be,” I mumble. “My name is Emmie. You can call me Emmie.” I feel even worse now. He's trying to welcome me and I keep messing it up.
“Jack-ass Emmie? This is a strange name you have.” He looks confused, and I can't blame him.
“Emmie,” I say, pressing my hand to my chest. I step into him and place my hand on his chest in a similar manner, “Gatekeeper.”
A warmth spreads from where my hand touches him, an unexplainable pulse shooting directly to my clit. I’m not sure if this is a normal response, he could be Hell's gigolo for all I know but I can't exactly ask, hey, why does my pussy flutter when we touch.
“Ahh. Emmie, Gatekeeper. Gatekeeper, Emmie.” He looks proud of his newfound understanding. “Come, Emmie. I have some fresh bread from yesterday. We shall break it.”
Snorting at his statement, he takes my hand and looks down at me in confusion.
“You said we were going to break bread.”
“Yes, is this not correct?”
“It's just a little old fashioned, is all. We don't really say that anymore. We just say let's eat or dinner time.”
His brow furrows as we walk toward the front steps.
The cottage is big, but completely average size for the large Gatekeeper beside me.
Pushing open the heavy wooden front door, I step into an open living space.
There is a kitchen on one side and a single chair on the other side, a pile of books stacked on the floor next to it.
I can see the bedroom through an open doorway on the back wall, a large bed taking up most of the space.
The wooden panels on the walls and ceiling are stained white, but the floor remains natural. It's like a tiny house for giants.
“This is…”
Turning around the room, I see the Gatekeeper standing on the front porch, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his head, his brow furrowed.
Is he nervous?
“Emmie? It would be an honour if you stayed with me.”
Like I have another place to go? I need sleep and food, and I still don't know why I'm not freaking out more.
Maybe a part of me still thinks I'll just wake up from a random dream.
Or it could be the years of research into the underworld that makes it all seem possible.
Who am I to say that Hell isn't like this?
“I don't feel too good.” My stomach is a little woozy. Most likely nausea from missing who knows how many meals. “I think today is catching up with me. Do you have a bathroom I can wash in?”
My limbs feel heavy, and with each blink, my eyelids close for longer periods.
“Actually, I think I need to lie down.” I barely register the arms wrapping around me, lifting me, and then laying me down on something soft.
There is a comforting smell, like a spring breeze enveloping me, and I relax into the darkness as sleep takes over.