Stories to Tell to Evade Torment from Hell

Here is a preview of my book Stories to Tell, To Evade Torment from Hell. This is chapter one. The full book can be found on our Shop page. Hope you enjoy

CHAPTER I

Torment in Hell

The shrieks of souls pulsated through my ears and traveled to my

chest, redirecting my pulse to move in harmony with its frequencies

as I walked the Tartarus corridor.

The black lava stone walls cracked around me oozing lava so bright

it provided a red source of light. The lava would cool to stone making

the corridor return to its natural pitch black color momentarily

until it cracked once again. The boiling lava made the heat unbearable

for the spirits, if a human was here in physical form instead, it

would melt immediately.

I kept the hood of my black cloak over my head discreetly peeking

into the oval shaped thresholds to my left and right where the

screams were coming from. Room after room, gray human-shaped

silhouettes begging for the torture to stop from their cloaked tormentors.

Unable to contain my amusement, my smiles in response

to the retribution being committed turned to laughter. One of the

cloaked tormentors heard my laughter and turned towards me,

I quieted and lowered my head. I took in a deep breath as I kept

walking, inhaling the harsh and hot smells of burning coals.

Reaching the chamber assigned to me, I peered through the red

lava that was dripping down the rounded threshold into the darkness

to find the gray soul waiting for me, whimpering in fear.

Trembling with excitement walking into the room, I didn't notice

the heat of the lava that dripped onto my shoulders or laid beneath

my feet.

This is going to be fun. I thought to myself.

The smell of blood became stronger the closer I walked to the spirit.

Walking closer I noticed that the spirit was pinned to the wall by its

arms and legs with the now cooled and hardened black lava. I took

in a deep whiff to inhale the sins of this soul. My stomach growled

with hunger at the strong stench. I rolled out my long, sharp

tongue and licked the spirit from its collarbone to its forehead,

ready to devour this gray silhouette of evil. I could taste the torture

this soul committed throughout its life, the raping and slaughtering

of people without a cause. I felt a burst of energy from its fear of

my presence, and the fear that it caused. Keeping my composure, I

rolled my tongue back into my mouth and took a few steps back.

I had to show self control, as he was being watched throughout his

life, I m being watched throughout mine to be sure that I follow the

rules of retribution. I received stern and specific orders to punish

this soul for a century, the outcome of this punishment will determine

if this spirit goes to the next realm of hell for a lighter punishment

or stay with me to continue here. Either way, devouring this

soul was not an option for me, no matter how badly I wanted to.

Wanting to see the specific transgressions this spirit committed,

I put my hand through the spirit’s chest and wrapped my fingers

around the soul of its heart to tap into its memories. The spirit

responded to my invasion with a loud scream that penetrated my

cloak and fueled my veins with a cool tingly sensation. Memories

flashed behind my eyes; from the time of its formation in the

womb, until it reached judgment and all the moments in between.

I was seeing the first time he walked, talked, and the first woman

he raped. While absorbing the surges of power and happiness he

felt causing so many people and children pain, I watched how he

chopped and stored each body part before disposing of them. My

blood was pumping with the pleasures he felt during all of those

encounters, bringing a smile to my face as I loosened my grip from

around its heart.

Letting go, I began pondering my methods of gratitude for such

pleasure I felt viewing its sins. Down here our tools are created by

molding the red hot lava and allowing it to harden. Grabbing a fistful

of lava from the wall beside the spirit I began molding small jagged

knives and attached them to a larger rod shop. The lava cooled

during the process finishing into a lava rock texture and color.

“I’ll call this The Rake.” I said out loud.

Looking at the weapon I created I began laughing menacingly approaching

the waiting soul with my new device. The soul shrieked

continuously as I slammed the small knives into the crown of its

head, slowly making my way down to the sole of its right foot. I

then moved the rake in an upward motion back towards the top

of its head and dragged the rake down to its left foot. This full

motion took two minutes to me, but to the spirit, it was an excruciating

pain traveling throughout its being for two years. Two

years, and 98 more the spirit has been sentenced to with me. The

frequencies of the soul s screams penetrated through my cloak and

traveled throughout my body, exciting me to continue slower and

deeper. I could feel its pleads to stop, but they only motivated me

to continue.

“I HAVE STORIES!” The spirit repeated in a high pitch scream.

“I know all of your stories. I saw everything from your formation

to your destruction. There is nothing you can tell me that I haven t

already seen.” I responded coldly.

Shrugging him off, I continued my 10th stroke from its foot to

its head, 90 more years to go. I felt myself growing tired of raking

the spirit, and began pondering what tool I could create next that

would be less work for me and more screams from him.

“There was a conjuror in Benin! They told me how to trick the

Shigidis when I murdered to protect me in my sleep. I am protected

and informed by Anansi. And they taught me how to trick you

Nemesis!”

I stopped and thought about what the spirit said for a moment. We

all had duties to complete that regulated the realms of the Supreme

Being. I knew Anansi found joy in creating trouble for the orishas

and deities in this realm, trying to prevent them from fulfilling

their duties. Anansi enjoyed trouble, but he still had a conscience,

Anansi would never protect a rapist nor would he allow a conjuror.

I also thought about the soul’s knowledge of the Shigidis. No person

in the physical realm has ever held knowledge of the Shigidis,

there’s no possibility this soul could have known of them without

the help of someone, of Anansi. Even if true, Anansi could not

have a trick up his sleeve for the Shigidis.

They are the ones that come in the night to punish those who sin

the day. Those small stubby demons could smell a sin within a sin,

and this soul would have been sent to my care sooner. This sinner

and Anansi.

What more did this soul know? It knew my identity, I am Nemesis,

the goddess of retribution. I have been given the oversight of

revenge on the humans that lived evil lives on Earth, fueled by their

hubris convincing them that the gods didn't punish those who took

it upon themselves to hurt or punish others. I exist in this plane

with the deities, gods, orishas, agents, generals, angels, and other

infinite dimensional beings assigned to punish the wicked.

Man imagined us within their religions and practices then lost sight

of their abilities to create, and with that, they stopped believing in

our existence. Yet we still roam the worlds and the heavens, and we

also still oversee the realms of hell.

There was nothing this soul could do or say to me to convince me

that I could not see all of its evil acts. Even if I could not see it all, I

saw enough to know that punishment was in order. I also had orders

for his punishment, 100 years down here with me. This spirit

may have been able to get away in his physical life, but down here

in Tartarus there was nothing this soul could get away with.

I released my rake and as it stayed forked into the spirit, I grabbed

more lava from the wall and began molding it like clay. I molded a

ball and added small spikes onto the ball, then made another identical

spiked ball. I pulled the rake from the spirit tingling from the

screaming vibrations in response. I then stuck the balls onto the

teeth of the rake and slammed it into the back of the spirit, rolling

it slowly upward, splitting the spirit apart and watching it reattach

almost immediately.

My laughs grew louder as the screams increased from my new

device.

“You can't see the times I was possessed by the jackal!” The soul

managed to yell between shrieks.

I kept rolling my weapon down its back humming old orthodox

hymns ignoring the spirit. It was obvious it was saying anything

to stall time. As the spirit continued, I began pondering my next

device, molding a rope with small spikes.

The spirit continued its attempts to distract me, “I know you can’t!

And I also know how much you love stories of the Jackal. I have

seen the lives he’s possessed, the people he’s helped cause mischief.

I know you can’t see any of that. Let me tell my stories the Jackal

has shown me! It will give you greater pleasure than this torture.”

Still humming, I wrapped the rope around the midline of the

spirit and began pulling, forcing the soul to split in half then mend

together. The soul resembled clouds accumulating right before a

Storm.

I decided to finally respond. “I don't believe you. The Jackal has

not been seen in eons, since the continents were aligned as one. He

does not bother with the likes of humans anymore. There are far

more intelligent species in other realms to possess.”

“I know! I've seen the stories!” The soul responded. “I’ve seen

the stories of other humans on other realms and their technology.

I’ve seen how some species cause chaos for survival. I have so

many stories I can share!”

“I have already finished 50 years of this torture; you only have

fifty more until you are able to reach the next level of Tartarus less

severe. Why jeopardize that? If you do not fulfill this form of retribution

to the Supreme’s liking, the Supreme can choose to make

you stay here.”

“And make you stay here too?” The soul asked.

“What did you say?” A shot of anger went through my body.

This spirit did know secrets. I felt myself growing curious of what

else this spirit knew.

“Aren’t you tired of torturing me?” The spirit asked. “Wouldn t

you like a break where you can still be energized by pain without

working?”

I thought about it for a moment. I did want to know more of what

this spirit knew. I wanted to know who this spirit was and how this

spirit was able to channel these energies. I decided to remove the

rope from the middle of the spirit then grabbed another ball from

the wall and formed a large hourglass. I put the spirit inside the top

half of the hourglass, making the spout set to take one minute for

the spirit to move from this side to the bottom.

One minute here is one year of its time on Earth, that was all this

spirit had to tell this story, and the torture would still continue. I

formed a stool and sat down watching the spirit slowly squeeze

down the hourglass. “You have until you fully reach the other

side of this hourglass to tell your story. After that, I will finish your

judgment uninterrupted.”

“I can guarantee the stories I have to tell will make you want to hear

more.” The spirit responded.

I was annoyed and still intrigued, but against my better judgment I

stayed on the stool and responded,

“Proceed.”