So they stand here shivering, wondering what horrors await. They can’t tell how long they’ve been following me, or how little time has passed. The glorious light in this grand, yawning passageway beckons us, and the Sulphur scent of home is in the air. I’ve lived above long enough to remember the urge. I’ve missed this place.
These three can’t understand. All they feel is hot and dark, and a deep terror that makes their bone marrow run like warm maple syrup. I don’t blame them. No one is supposed to like going to Hell.
Old Cerberus has held up well. Dogs have long memories, especially when they have three heads with which to recall. The chains lashing him to this portal between There and Here have etched a painful notch in his gentle nature. Why did they shackle him like a galley slave? Cerberus, so eager to please?
Bastards. Just had to make a point, didn’t they?
I remember Cerberus’ heartbreaking whines when I heavily trod up out of the light into the dark world above. I’ve missed him.
The final argument was like all the others.
Did it matter what it was about, or who started it?
I wasn’t the only one. But I took the heat for it.
Did I have to push so hard? Was I right? Were we right…?
But there’s no ‘we’, anymore. Just me and my big old dog, and these three quivering examples of simian evolution.
Some Prince of Darkness I am.
I knew what I was getting into. The people above were simple and fragile, capable of violent lust and remarkable kindness. All had broken souls to heal or steal. I had an eternity to build a bad reputation, and let my black marks be proven again and again. It was a shitty job, but someone had to do it.
Maybe that’s what started the final argument.
Anyway, I lost.
The three of them stand before me. They won’t see the bright light or feel the hot breeze enveloping them until too late. It shouldn’t be that way, but…
They’re so good with their hands. Building and carving and raising totems to the sky. Less aware than newborns about the real wonders lying about them. I know they have their own individual qualms and urges, and nightmares about the things mortals think can hurt them. Wanting to be taken care of, while proudly standing on their own two feet.
I’ve learned a lot from them. Like when it’s time to go home.
Cerberus hears the keening crash of the infernal symphony, deep below. He doesn’t sleep, facing his nightmares with eyes wide open. “Easy boy,” I croon. He’s earned the right to come along, but I don’t want him to suffer any more.
It’s about time. And after all that has passed when last I was here, I can finally understand what joy and horror the passage of time brings to mortals.
Time to face the music, and step into the light.
“Coming?” I say to my meager little troop.
They nod ‘yes’.
And away we go.
Michael A. Clark’s work has been published in Galaxy’s Edge, Mystery Weekly Magazine, Tales from the Moonlit Path, Cosmic Horror Magazine and Black Hare Press. Clark’s work also appears in History Through Fiction,Twenty Two Twenty Eight and Dark Matter Magazine, Issue 016. His novella “Are One” was recently published by Water Dragon Publishing, and “The Final Shot” appears at https://whitecatpublications.com/2024/04/09/the-final-shot/. “Whom the Gods Annoy” is in the current edition of anotherealm at Whom the Gods Annoy by Michael A Clark (anotherealm.com).
Published 10/31/24