2. Lucifer
CHAPTER TWO
LUCIFER
Smiling warmly at James, I said, “Do you know that before a soul is sent to my domain, I am given every detail about the deeds that condemned them here?”
James shrank back, almost cringing, as I waved my hand, conjuring a long, ancient-looking scroll. Its ivory surface etched with symbols that seemed to writhe and burn, exactly what one might expect from hell. Appearances, after all, are everything.
Skimming the endless list of James’ sins, I noted petty transgressions, such as sneaking candy as a child, skipping school as a teen, and cheating on his taxes as an adult. Further down were more egregious but still typical offenses like embezzling from his company, verbally abusing his wife, and coveting his neighbor’s spouse.
But one entry halfway through the scroll brought a cruel twist to my mouth. “Molested niece for 16 years,” it read, the ink seeming to pulse with malevolence. James trembled as I slowly turned to him, scroll in hand. The terror I saw in his face gave me a deep, almost sexual, pleasure, as it always did.
Placing a hand on James’ shoulder, I spoke in a smooth tone. “It seems this is where you really damned yourself, James. Defiling an innocent child who belonged to me.” Leaning in close until our faces nearly touched. “I’m afraid I’ll have to make quite an example of you.”
As James dissolved into anguished sobs, a thrill of sadistic glee welled up inside me. With a casual flick of my wrist, I transported us instantly to the cold, dank dungeon cell that would be James’ new eternal home.
At the sight of it, a yellow stain appeared on the front of James’ trousers. Heavy iron shackles snapped shut around his wrists and ankles with a satisfying clang. The metal bit deep, and blood oozed from where they secured him, his hands already turning purple. James screamed, the first of what would be many of the next uncounted millennia.
Surveying the bare stone walls and floor already slick with piss, I said aloud, “Don’t fret, James, I’ll be back to begin your torments soon. I’ve already devised such exquisite agonies to inflict upon you that your suffering shall be legendary in the annals of Hell. I have such delicious sights to show you.” My diabolical laughter echoed through the cell as I took my leave.
The echoes of his shrieks followed me as I strolled through the tunnel of crimson stone. The smell of pain and blood and shit hung in the stifling air, and I inhaled deeply.
It had been too long since I’d taken a personal hand in a soul’s damnation. It invigorated me, reminding me of why I’d become the King of Hell in the first place. Emerging from the stygian depths, I stepped onto the banks of the Lake of Fire. Each black fleck on the ground was a shard of obsidian, ready to stab and tear unprotected flesh. Taking the damned on a run through here was always entertaining.
Within a few minutes, the foreboding edifice of my lair loomed before me.
As I strode through the crimson and ebony halls of my infernal palace, demons and the damned alike prostrated themselves in my wake. Their pitiful wails and pleas for mercy echoed, unanswered, a grim symphony. I reveled in the sights and sounds, whistling a happy tune. It was good to be me.