Back to the Pit

Dark spirits pulled me through the floor, down to the basement, and into the ground. Hands of evil groped every inch of my body. Dirt and earth engulfed me as I gagged for air. My head bounced off tree roots and rocks before landing heavily into an underground cavern. Channing grasped for a tree root, hanging momentarily before claws shredded his legs and pulled him down with me. Five beings pinned us while two others bound our hands and feet with chains. A brutish beast of a man appeared from the shadows. His face was covered in black soot like you'd see when a coal miner emerges from the tunnels after a sixteen hour day ... his muscles hardened by unending physical labor.

“Grab the chains and drag’em here!” Shouted a distant voice.

The large man groaned as he picked up the chains and gave a violent jerk.

I screamed. My arms were pulled hard in an unnatural way against my body, snapping tendon and ligament. I was dragged against the ground, scraping away skin with each pull of the chain. Scraping it to the bone. I heard cries of agony coming from Channing but he was blocked from my vision.

“Let’s just gut'em here and be done with it!” Cackled one of the spirits. By my best account there were about twenty surrounding all sides of us.

“Idiot! We'll be punished if master finds out,” another one said.

The first spirit grumbled. “I’m getting tired of always having to do what master says. One of these days-"

“One of these days you’ll what? Just keep it up. Master will give you an attitude adjustment and it won’t be pretty,” argued the second spirit.

“I’ll give you an attitude adjustment.” A fight broke out between the two but was stopped abruptly by the rest of the group. Both spirits were dragged away, screaming and hollering as their faces scrapped the rocky ground. Our group was reduced to ten.

We traveled what felt like miles. Bloodied and torn skin hung from my bent body when we arrived at the end of the cavern, which opened up to a cliff. I saw Channing, a bloodied pile of flesh, hardly recognizable. A man, well, what appeared to be a man sat on a throne of rock. Next to him was an altar stained with blood. Three bonfires emitting thick black smoke were arranged in a triangle which glowed around us. Smoke invaded my lungs with each breath.

“What's this man’s sin?” The man on the throne bellowed with a deep and commanding voice, pointing a fat finger in my direction. He must have been the master.

“Murder!” Shrieked one of the spirits in the group. "He even scored himself a preacher man."

"A preacher man, that ups the ante a bit but it's murder just the same. The boys downstairs will get a kick out if it but he'll still have to earn his stripes."

"What's the preacher's sin?" The master asked.

"Murder," shrieked the same dark spirit.

"My God, I've committed no such crime. Your accusations are false!" Reverend Channing protested.

"He willfully withheld love from his own daughter," squealed the spirit. "She went and offed herself over it!" The spirit laughed.

"Sins of omission." The master said. "Throw'em both on the stones."

Two dark spirits grabbed and placed me upright against a stone pillar. A third rushed me, jamming an iron choker around my neck, binding me to the rock. They left and grabbed Channing, binding him to the rock adjacent mine, leaving me face-to-face with my victim.

"Look into his eyes, murderer. Look at the life you took with your own hands. Breathe in the ecstasy. Know fully what you've done. Stake claim to the slain. Your souls are bound to one another for all eternity. I place upon you the iron chain of retribution." The master commanded.

A dark spirit grabbed my forehead pushing it back hard against the unforgiving stone. Another rushed forward with a ten foot chain, clasping it to the choker around my neck. The spirit hurried over to the shaken Reverend clasping the other end to his choker, sealing us together in bondage until the end of times.

“That’s it.” The master said. By law we can only do that which they have done to others. What say you?”

“The rack!” Yelled one of the spirits. “Let me have them master.”

The master looked at him. “Our numbers are dwindling. You know what will happen don’t you, fool. Your wretched soul will be pulled down further, much like this poor boy.”

“But sir, he committed murder knowing full well the punishments that awaited him.”

The master's eyes glowed. “Well then, that changes things. Willful defiance against the creator warrants a one way ticket downstairs. By George, he is one of us!" The master let out a hefty laugh. Reminds me a bit of myself when I was a young man. Don’t worry we'll handle all the travel arrangements. Something tells me you'll fit in quite nicely down there. The pit! Throw him in!”

“The Pit! The Pit! The Pit!” The dark spirits circled around us chanting. Desperation strewn across the Reverend's face, terror across mine. The fires roared bigger and brighter with each chant and flailing of arms. Reverend Channing and I danced with our backs together and our hands up in self-defense. I swung and missed the first spirit who came at me. The big one picked up my body and flung me over the side of the cliff. The weight of my body pulled Reverend Channing over the edge until the chain twisted around a spirit standing next to us, knocking him down, leaving us dangling over the edge.

“Damnit! The damn chain is around my leg. One of you tools get it off!” The depraved spirit shouted.

I looked down and saw nothing. The end of innocence awaited below. Painful, blood curdling screams rose from the darkness. “No! Wait!” I cried. “Don’t do this! I’m no murderer. I didn’t touch him. He fell!”

The large spirit rushed over, freeing the others leg. He pulled me up and held me upside down, my neck keeping Channing from falling into despair. “I hope you like to run because you’s about to be hunted for the rest of eternity. Enjoy your time in hell boys. You earned it!” He released the chain, laughing with delight.

We fell. Downward into a black abyss. Hours passed before solid ground caused our body's to bounce and flatten like pancakes. The force of the impact should have killed us instantly. I could feel the snap and break of every bone in my body, but I was not dead. I laid motionless as several more hours passed. This place was heavier and darker than the division of hell I was in before. “Monika! Justin!” I cried. No answer. I was alone, with the devil.

Reverend Channing dug his fingers into my neck, pulling and twisted at my choker. He didn't speak, only growled.

"Get the hell off me man!" I kicked him in the chin causing his head to jolt backward.

"I'm gonna kill you, Stark! You did this to me!" Channing wrestled with me on the ground, surrounded by darkness.

I don't know how much time passed before we were overcome with exhaustion. Screams rang out all around us but we couldn’t see the wretched souls who released them. A primal urge to run, to survive, welled up within me. I took a step forward and tumbled, splitting both hands open on sharp rocks. The chain around my neck bound me to the darkness. It was evident, if the Reverend and I didn't want to end up in the back of a windowless van, we'd have to work together.

"Reverend Channing, listen, time is running out. Hunters will catch the scent of fresh meat. By now they know we've landed and are in pursuit. We need to work together if we want to escape intact."

"Go to hell, Stark!"

"Um, sure. Kinda already there, now follow my lead."

"No way I'm following your lead you pathetic weakling."

"Who better to lead, a sinner like me, who knows what it's like to lead a Godless life. Surly I'm more prepared to live in this wasteland then someone as prominent as yourself." I said, playing to Channing's ego.

"Whatever, Stark. I'll play your game but only until these chains are loosened."

The ground was much more jagged and rocky than above. Running was impossible. We were being hunted and time was running out. My eyes slowly adjusted, allowing the reddish glow to light my surroundings. I could faintly make out a worn path on the ground. Justin warned me to stay off the paths. I went against his advice. What choice was there? There was no going back, not after what I had done. Justin and Monika were lost to me, forever.

Progress was slow, dragging a sniveling Reverend didn't help. Navigation through the blackness was near impossible but I made it to a clearing in the air, vaguely making out what looked to be the walls of a great city. We pressed along the path and eventually made our way down into a valley. The walls surrounding the city were made of huge stone boulders. I felt my way along the edge until we reached a giant gate that protected the city. As I approached the gate I could see two guards standing watch. “Help!” Reverend Channing cried in desperation. "We are in need of shelter."

"No, you idiot. We can't draw attention to ourselves." I lashed out.

Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here; the words written at the top of the gate. I vaguely remembered hearing that phrase before but I couldn’t place my finger on it. Thick stained tarps hung from the gate acting as a partial barrier. One of the guards lifted his head and looked towards our direction as I fought to hold Reverend Channing from stumbling closer.

“Please sir, fetch some water. I’m so thirsty!” Reverend Channing cried out.

The guards looked at each other but gave no response. The guard on the left approached me first. I held out my hand for mercy, before keeling over from exhaustion. The guard hit me with tremendous power, knocking me to the ground. I laid stunned, staring at his blood-soaked boots. “Pull’em in and give'em to the dogs." I laid on my back. The guards dragged me underneath the gate. I threw up. The tarps hanging above were made of skin sewn crudely together, stained with blood from the victims. The dogs hated me, viciously ripping the remaining flesh off of my body. Gnawing and gnashing of teeth were the only sounds I heard other than my cries of agony. Let me die.

"Fool, you're already dead. Welcome to hell.” One of the guards called off the dogs and clasped his fingers around my choker. A band of dark spirits rushed out of a nearby building and dragged us inside, throwing us down several flights of stairs. We landed in a cellar basement, the chain wrapping tight around our twisted bodies. No rest for the wicked. The spirits ran around the room like a whirlwind, fighting over knives, daggers, and an assortment of instruments of pain. “That’s mine!” “No, give it here!” They fought, like hungry wolves over a scrap of meat, spilling their own blood against the dingy basement walls. “There's no end to our torment! You are worthless! You are garbage!” The mocking reduced me to a puddle of helplessness. We were forced to drink acid which scorched our insides. The acid had a purpose beyond torture. It drained our energy, like a black hole, hope burned from our being. Any shred of hope I had about leaving this place was gone. To be abandoned by God is the worst experience a man can have.

“Stop! Everyone stop! The doctor. He’s coming.” A voice called out. The melee stopped instantly. My consciousness faded in and out. I looked into the stare of a man who knew no sympathy. Cold yellow eyes examined me from head to toe. His teeth were like razors and his burnt skin was covered in boils. Pus dripped from flesh wounds and slowly pooled on the floor.

“What do you want?” I asked. The man looked down while writing notes into a book. He seemed to be keeping some sort of record.

“What do you think, doc?” Asked one of the men who tortured me.

“There's evil in him, but I can’t trace it. You men can do what you want with him. He's of no use to me.”

“Trace what?” I mumbled in an attempt to delay the torments I knew where coming.

The doctor looked up from his notebook and paused for a moment before speaking. “The origin of your power, why your soul is so much blacker than ours.”

"I knew it, Stark. I knew you were different from the others. I was right to keep Allison from you."

"What about the preacher, Doc?"

"A fine trophy indeed. Go, prepare the operating table. I have much to learn."

I glanced over toward the Reverend. His body shook and convulsed, intuitively knowing the torments that awaited. A piece of me trembled with him. Had I been wrong to seek revenge? Was this the path Dr. Z. warned me about? Did I even care, or was that part of me dead?

Time moved quickly. The dark spirits rolled in a rickety stretcher, unbuckling the belt like straps that would confine the doomed Reverend.

"Grab him. Strap him to the operating table." The doctor commanded.

It took several spirits to subdue the Reverend. Channing wasn't a willing participant. I was pulled along with him. Horrified to await what was coming. I never wished for this. My hatred for Reverend Channing ran deep, but this was madness, evil run rampant.

"What are you doing to him? Stop!" I screamed, barely above Channing's cries. The doctor looked at me without speaking, then reached down and grabbed his scalpel. I closed my eyes and faded my mind out of awareness.

Time is an abstract concept in the spirit world. I don’t know how much had passed when I opened my eyes and looked into the Reverend's, his arms and legs were missing. A hole had been carved where is heart used to be. We were alone in a holding cell.

"I know what you're thinking. No, I'm not dead, and Yes, it does frickin’ hurt." The Reverend said.

"Listen. I know you hate me, but we're going to have to work together if we're going to get out of here. I know what I've done. The mistake I've made has cost us dearly. Let me help you, help us both. Trust me, I won't leave you here. Give me a chance to earn your forgiveness, please Reverend Channing."

"You're right, I do hate you, but I also know what I've done. I've known for a long time. It's the reason I'm here. It's not because of you. I'm the reason I lost my family, my church, my life."

"What do you mean you knew?"

"You always know, Stark, deep down, you always know the truth. You can fight and deny it, push it away, but it always comes back. The truth can never be hidden. It always haunts."

"I'm sorry." It felt odd saying those words, but Channing was right. I've always known.

"When I lost my wife, I lost my sanity. Allison deserved a father who was there for her, not a self-righteous half crazed preacher. It was the only way I could feel any type of control. The truth was I was losing more control each day. Allison knew it all along. That's why she rejected me. Why she turned her back on the church. I truly loved Allison; I just didn't know the right way to show it."

"If you truly loved Allison then that love will get you out of here."

"Couldn't find anything." The doctor said walking into the cell, pointing at the hole in the Reverend's chest. "In time his arms and legs will grow back. I will resume my search."

"Wait, there must be something I can do to change your mind, please, I beg of you."

"You wanna take his place?"

I could only look at my feet, cringing at the lines of blood running from Channing's torn body.

"Recruit." The doctor said.

"Recruit?"

"Bring me subjects, lab rats ... ten to replace one. Then he shall have his freedom."

"William, don't leave me alone in this place." The reverend slipped from consciousness.

"I promise to come back for you no matter the cost." I called out to Reverend Channing. "I'll never leave you here. Trust me. I won't abandon you. Have faith!"

I made a deal with the devil, but I couldn't willingly give up the reverend to unrestrained brutality. I needed to earn his forgiveness. I owed him redemption.

"Hold still." The doctor commanded pulling out an axe stained with blood.

"No!" I screamed as he swung towards my head. It struck hard against the iron choker causing sparks to spray against the discolored wall. The choker fell to the ground clanging against the stone floor.

I was no longer restrained and didn’t wait around to analyze it. A door at the top of the cellar stairs led into the city. The architecture reminded me of ancient biblical city, except this city was foul and depraved. The stench in the air was a constant and unrelenting mixture of rotting flesh, decaying dog, and death itself. Streets were stained with blood and grime. Rotting wood and crumbling stone hung from every building, looking as if they had been neglected for centuries.

I proceeded with caution down the narrow streets. My eyes never stopped scanning, always on the lookout. I reached up to scratch my forehead and jabbed myself in the eye. Blood dripped from the jagged talons growing out of the ends of my fingers. I had become like the dark spirits that dragged me down. The anger within was far more acute than it had been on earth. I remembered Monika saying that emotions were experienced much stronger in the spiritual realms. What little control I had over my anger was annihilated, made worse with the thought of her and what I had thrown away. I craved revenge on the doctor and the guards who tortured me. Maybe then I could know peace.

“Get him!” Out of the corner of my vision a figure rushed me, knocking me against a cracked flower pot filled with worms. Within seconds I was engulfed in a violent whirlwind of fury.

“Don’t mutilate the flesh. I want it for my drapes.” A voice sounded.

“Screw you! I want a new dress. I deserve a new dress to wear. I’m much prettier than you and my dress is much more important than your stupid drapes.” Crackled a feminine voice.

These people, well they somewhat resembled people but looked more like appalling wretches, were on top of me fighting over scraps of skin that still hadn't healed. The attack lasted for hours until they grew tired of their torment and left. Anger and hatred grew tenfold, fueled by pain and mistreatment. I continued along the street until I came upon a man standing on the corner. This time I was ready. Charged by a blinding rage, I knocked him down and dug my talons into his eye sockets. I picked up his head and bashed it down on a raised cobblestone. He screamed with misery which made me hurt him more. I quickly grabbed the knife around his belt and pinned his wrist to the ground. Holding the blade gave me power. I pressed it against each one of his fingers until I severed them from the hand.

I wandered aimlessly around the streets of the forsaken city. I was attacked often. Sometimes I was able to fight off my attackers and sometimes not. I would have given anything for a second of rest, but rest meant unending torment at the hands of the city's tortured inhabitants. I longed for home but swiftly put out the fire. That type of thinking leads to weakness, weakness that would land me chained in the basement of some sick bastard’s idea of fun.

The horrific realization had come. In order to feel even one moment of rest I had to become more ruthless than they were. Only if I had the upper hand would I be safe. Souls in hell had lost their humanity and become animalistic, lower even. Animals fight to survive, souls in hell fight to hate. Survival of the fittest was the law of this land. I remembered the journal I found during my first tour in hell. Only cruelty and oppression survive here. Abandoned by God, I had no choice but to abandon him, abandon love. An evil will was the only thing that brought me a moment’s peace, even if those moments were fleeting. The education was fast, the learning curve simple. The darker I became the more I could control other souls that were damned to the city. I bowed my head, exhaled the last bit of humanity in my soul, and set out to stake my evil renown.