To Hell and Back

Nick oohed and aahed at the intricately carved path of white marble winding through the narrow tunnel. The fine detailing of the figures stunned him. Over here, a man dressed in priestly robes kneeling prayer with the left hand pointed up while the other grabbed a handful of money from a collection plate; a step to the right, and a rotund woman seated at a table forcing handfuls of cakes and breads and meats into her mouth; and more and more carvings of people crowding the path into the semi-darkness. More amazing yet was how untouched the path appeared: no chipped noses or ears, no wear marks from constant foot traffic.

He walked along, head gently moving back and forth as he scanned the path. One carving in particular near the wall of the tunnel caught his eye. He knelt to get a better look, running his fingers over the image of a man, who was the spitting image of his neighbor Mr. Razmin back in the States, using a bullwhip on a group of children that looked surprisingly like the Razmin kids. Which would be impossible, considering the path must be hundreds of years old, he mused. Still, the resemblance was enough that he snapped a picture with his iPhone before continuing.

The narrow tunnel soon gave way to a large cave. Nick entered cautiously, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light cast from the large iron torches jutting from the walls. The path continued in a straight line across the cave floor, and in the flickering light, the carvings almost seemed to move with him as he walked. He was so enthralled by the movements that he collided with a tall dark figure blocking the path.

"Sorry, man, I didn't see --," he stopped. The figure before him must have been seven or eight feet tall, dressed in a long ratted brown robe that pooled on the floor. Long, emaciated arms ending in bony fingers and hands poked from the sleeves. It had a twisted nose, elongated with flaking flesh. The scraggly beard hung in patches down the chin, making the sucked-in cheeks more evident. The eyes were nothing more than fiery coals.

"You are met with Sin. Abandon hope, all ye who pass through the Gates," Sin said and glided to Nick's right. With a long skeletal finger, Sin pointed down the path toward a pair of black iron gates, the bars thick as small tree trunks that stretched and disappeared into the darkness above. Nick watched the gate, almost believing they bulged out then back in as if something pressed against them. And the voices. He hadn't noticed them before. The moaning and the wails of who knows what that echoed throughout the cave.

Something vibrated in Nick's pocket. He frowned and pulled out his phone. "Impossible! Service down here?" Nick held up his index finger. "Hold on a sec." He turned from Sin and started typing frantically as he wandered away from the gates.

Sin slowly followed, but jumped back when Nick suddenly shouted, "That's so awesome! Who knew you could checkin here on foursquare. And," he tilted his phone toward Sin, "it even leveled up my Great Outdoors badge to seven!"

"No one's going to believe this!"

Nick jogged up the path and disappeared into the tunnel, leaving a confused Sin standing before the Gates of Hell.

The above is a work of fiction, © 2012 Gregory A. Carter