Gevangenis Di Sogno

          Sleep didn’t come easy for Andy the night of the eclipse. Then again, it never came easy. But for a washed up writer, any night promising the end of writers block never came soon enough. The day had gone quickly, with a visit to the L.A. Metropolitan detention center, for research on the new book. However, in the past 3 months, everything Andy did was for research. None of his ideas came through. None of his thoughts matured past outline. Nothing worked. But, with the eclipse on the horizon, Andy felt confident that his dreams could come true, just like they had once, long ago. He fell asleep with that notion, and dreamt.

          A bus. Endless desert around me. Sweltering heat. These things greeted me as I woke from my lackadaisical state. I was sitting on a bus, surrounded by the desert. Where am I? When I went to sleep, I was in my bed, at my loft in L.A. I should have woken up there. But instead I am here… on a bus, in the middle of the desert. Sweating like a pig.
          I tested my arms and legs, but found them stuck in place by handcuffs. I looked at my clothes, but all I saw was an orange jumpsuit. I looked next to me, to my seatmate, and found a 300 pound tattoo, or what looked like it. I was on a prison bus.
          “Hey, Joey, looks like the new guy doesn’t know what’s goin on!” said a man to my left. Well, by man, I of course mean a huge African American guy with muscles the size of heads.
          “I know, man, he’s kinda freakin me out over here.” Said my seatmate-Joey.           “Yo, you O.K. dawg? You need a little slappin’?” said a guy in front of me, leaning back over the seat in front of me.
         I was baffled. How did I go from L.A., sleeping, to what I can only describe as the bus ride to hell? I didn’t know, but I was sure wasn’t going to let them know that.
          “Man, I’m fine, all of you.” I said, almost giving away my lost thoughts in the short comment.
          “AAUUU! You want your mommy? Mommy’s not going to help you on this bus ride. No one is”, Joey informed me.
          Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a glint of silver in the distance. I tried to ignore the men on the bus, as I could see that I could only get them aggravated at me, and that probably wouldn’t be good. I saw a large fence, with what appeared to be a triangle in the middle of it. The compound itself had no towers, or I couldn’t see them, which I decided could be more disturbing. I attempted to gather my thoughts.
          I am sitting on a prison bus, traveling through the desert with some of the most dangerous people I have ever seen (including Joey, the giant tattoo), going towards a giant pyramid surrounded by a fence. That must be the jail, I concluded. But I didn’t commit a crime!
          ”Guard! Guard!” I started to shout. But when I saw the guard, I decided that my shouting was a mistake.
          The guard that approached me was like a creature I have never seen before .The body of a man from the waist down, but from the torso up mutated beyond belief. The head of this monstrosity was that of a bull, and the ring through its nose was the size of an apple.
          Now, while I was calling the guard over to the back of the bus, I saw the inmates around me staring in disbelief as I did the incomprehensible. As the creature started over, the men stopped talking and all turned to look straight ahead, and appeared to have mastered the “I didn’t do it” look by the time the creature stood before me.
          “Che cosa, Schiavo?” The brute stated bluntly. Its words came out more of a snort than of actual language. I did not understand it. At all.
          “Wha—“I began to speak. At that time, a hand clasped over my mouth, and words were barked from behind me forcefully, directed at the guard.
          “Non desidera niente, padrone.” the voice radiated over my head.
          “Che cosa vi dà la destra parlare???” The thing answered
          “Niente, padrone.” The voice spoke.
         The bus was silent. No one spoke as the rumbling of the engine shifted, and the guard stared over my head to what appeared to be my savior.
          “Uomo Pietoso” the guard grumbled and stalked away, obviously angered.
         I wrestled the hand of the man who spoke the language of the beast away from my mouth, and shifted myself to look at him. He was a gangly man, looking almost 60. His hair was down to his neck, white, and stringy. I recognized him immediately.
          “George??” I almost shouted.
          “SSHHH!!!” he urged me, trying desperately to avoid any more notice from the guard.
          “George Orwell?? What are you doing here? I must be dreaming! You must have died 50 years ago!! Hey, tell them I didn’t commit any crime! And while your at it, ask that ugly thing what it is, and why it hasn’t been shot before the—“
          “Shut up, Andy!!!”
          “…what?” I asked.
          “You really don’t have any idea what is going on, do you!?!?”
          “No! I DON’T” I shouted at the dead writer.
         George Orwell. The master of mixing political and narrative writing. My idol as a child, was sitting across from me on a bus ride. 50 years after his death. Man, I am really messed up.
          “We are on our way to hell, Andy, and you are along for the ride!! You just called over one of the demons that guard the Path, the way to hell. This bus, and all those on it, are damned to spend eternity in the jail we are headed to. Apparently, Lucifer enjoys the idea of hell as a prison for humans. I hate to be the one to tell you this, Andy…but…you’re dead.”
          “What? No I’m not. That’s not possible. I was sitting in bed last night, waiting for the eclipse, when I fell asleep, and now I am here!”
          “Wait, there was an eclipse the night you say was last night?”
          “Yea, so what?”
          “Eclipses are the messages of Archangels, Andy; they tell when a living being is to be sent to hell to deliver a message to Lucifer.”
          “Okay…I believe that this is all a dream, a terrible dream, and I will wake up when I gasp and pinch myself.”
         I pinched myself. And gasped. And I didn’t wake up.

         As our bus ride continued, I learned a great deal about my situation, and about what I was about to face. George told me about how the message that the archangels want to deliver is very sensitive, and that it can only be delivered by a human. He also told me that He sends the messages, and expects the messenger to deliver and then make his way back to Him. Apparently, I have been caught up in a mess that was predestined for centuries.
          As we talked, the fenced in pyramid grew closer and closer. The heat had subsided, and all that was left was the unbearable humidity, coupled with only an 80 degree day. Hah, only. Now all that was visible was the sun, the sand, and the occasional cactus. George describes that this land is closest mirrored by Death Valley, in “my world”, and that we had entered the endless desert around hell.
          “Andy, what we are about to do is travel through hell. I should tell you about what you are going to face.”
          “What If I don’t want to go? Huh? What If I say, ‘screw this crap’, and go on my own little journey through passive aggressive behavior?”
          “Andy.” George soberness snapped me out of my cynical streak.
          “You have been chosen to deliver a message from God to the devil. How do you think that you have a choice? It’s obvious what your punishment will be if you don’t perform this deed for God, isn’t it? You will be left here.”
          Wow, I thought. That is a scary thought. But I didn’t even know what message I was going to deliver. George described that to me, also. When I reached Lucifer’s chamber, he would know the message I was sent to deliver, and all I would have to do is go to his chamber, and then pass right through.
          We had stopped, and the Minotaur like creature stood up at the front of the bus. It seemed to be foaming at the mouth, and shouted throughout the vehicle.
          “Esseri umani! Ottenga in una linea per la vostra nuova vita!”
          George translated
          “Humans! Get in a line for your new life. Not good for those of us who are stuck here, ey Andy?”
          “What? You are stuck here in hell? Why? What did you do?
          “Well, let’s just say that I had some unpopular ideas in my life, and they didn’t go over very well.”
          “Oh” I managed to stutter, as I was shuffled off the bus, and lead towards the giant pyramid.
          “The Pyramid is just a façade. We won’t actually be in the pyramid. Hell expands infinitely under it. The Pyramid is just a marker. The gates of hell, if you would”.
          I was engrossed in all I saw. Humans were digging huge trenches around the fences, digging themselves and us deeper into our hell. I asked George if they were being punished.
          “No, and if you think that is bad, you are in for some shocks. These are the angels who abandoned Him in exchange for Lucifer. They are just doing their master’s work.”
          Great. Even the friends of the Devil get punished. What would this lead me to? And a better question, what did this lead some sinners to?
          “CAAWWWW!!!” The call of a crow echoed through the entrance of the pyramid as the other inmates, George and I were all shuffled into the tunnel leading down from the entrance.
          “Crows; The watchers of the first 3 basins.” George told me as we passed. Thousands were above us, on poles that seemed to hold the pyramid together. The poles criss-crossed and zigzagged throughout the shape, and each one perched hundreds of the black birds.
          “You see, justice has always been represented as the eagle, since the time He made them. The first 3 basins of this prison hold those who distort justice to their own ideas; and those who do so, suffer here. The crow, black and distrusted on earth, is a warped representation of the noble nature of its relative, the eagle.”
         We continued down the path, content at being pushed along by the Sopra-re, as I learned the Minotaur creatures were named. George called out to me, while we walked, as to how we were to escape them, were we to continue our quest.
          “Andy! When we reach the first basin, you will see those who lie and steal for survival and betterment of themselves and their families. Since these are not very serious or ruthless, so they only have to live as mutes for the rest of their existence here. Since they affected others with their words, they now don’t have any. Those who have stolen are forced to be hungry forever. Many have lost their ability to speak, since they spend eternity with mutes, so this is a very quiet place. The Sopra-re hate silence. They thrive on screams and chaos. To them, this is the worst of hell. They speed up through this area to prevent themselves from hearing this silence. That is our chance. If we attempt to slip away, we should be able to do so, quickly and quietly.”
         I heeded Georges warning, and prepared myself for what I though would be living in jail without talking. But nothing prepared me for what I saw. As I entered the first basin, all sound stopped. Just stopped. I froze and stared as what I saw before me. Hundreds of thousands of people, sitting at benches. Not a single person speaking. Not a word. Complete silence. The Sopra-re bellowed.
          “Colloquio, Esseri umani!” They fumed.
          “Now is our chance!!” George yelled at me. And I bolted.
         I dived over the ledge we had been paralleling, and ran across the closest table. Every head turned at the direction of the noise. I was stunned. But the Sopra-re weren’t.
          “Ottengalo!” the closest Sopra-re snorted. The guard jumped an astonishing distance to the table across me. Sinners scattered away from the Sopra-re as it bounded across the tables. I too was rushing as fast as I could away from the evil creature. I had lost sight of George, and I could only hope that he had escaped from the thing.
          I hid under a table, as I waited for the Sopra-re to find and dismember me. But as it stalked past, I realized that it was losing its fight with the silence. At first, my fellow prisoners had been cheering us along, much like we were attempting a jailbreak, but after they realized that it was helping the creatures, they stopped.
          Now the only sounds from the hall were those of the chase, and the occasional shout from the Sopra-re’s watching the chase. Now as I hid, there was nothing. The creature snorted and fumed, but it could not see me under the table and mass of legs that accompanied me from the mutes of hell. Frustrated, the creature gave up, and returned to the group of inmates, and continued them marching along towards who-knows-what. So that left me, George (hopefully), and about 200,000 mutes alone in a room. What could be better?

          I met back up with George when we started shouting. It made me feel bad to use the full extent of my voice while others around me stared in envy. It was very creepy. But I found George, and we began our quest again, as we exited the basin the way the Sopra did.
          “The second basin, the one we are coming up on, consists of those who kill with noble purpose in mind, and those who are forced to commit sin while trying to bring down sinners. Lucifer disliked their actions in life, because they weren’t harming innocent people. It’s a weird level, Andy, let me tell you.”
          “Heck, I’m still shaken up from the last basin. All those people. And not a single one talked!”
          “Andy, you will find that those who have physical deformities are the lucky ones in hell. At least they aren’t in pain. Those come later.”
          We continued in silence, until the next basin lay before us in a grand opening. I saw the punishment of these sinners before I saw them. I knew from the cries.
          “They are all babies” I said in disbelief.
          “Every single one of them. Those who murder malicious sinners took away those people’s ability to live their lives. Even though they were sinners, they still deserve to make their own choices. With the vigilantes, they stole that ability for others to choose wrong, thus, they have no ability to choose right or wrong in hell. And that wall over their? You see, with all the white things sticking out of it?”
          I saw only arms. The wall was composed of people, stuck half in the rock, limbs flaying wildly in the air around them.
          “Those are the people who sinned to bring other sinners down. They unbalanced themselves, and thus, are balanced here in hell, through the elements of rock and air. On the other side of that wall is the Sopra-re barracks, where those evil creatures eat and sleep. The heads on that side, those of the sinners, are their food.”
          We walked along the wall, looking and the arms and torsos that were protruding from the rock. We treaded carefully, as the infant sinners on the “safe” side of the wall were crawling everywhere. I was doing ok for going through hell until I saw a torso that I recognized. Well, it was more like the nametag on the torso I recognized. It read Miguel.
          “Oh no! Miguel!” I grasped for the arms that were swirling from the wall.
          “Do you know him?” George asked.
          “Yes.” I said. It hurt to talk about him, and even worse to see him in this state.
          “I knew Miguel from the LAPD, where he worked as an undercover cop. Last year he was responsible for bringing down Lopez Bordiqua, the biggest drug smuggler this side of the Rocky Mountains.”
          “People who sin to bring other sinners down” is all George said, as we walked past, and continued our trip through hell. It had struck close to home. Little did I know how much closer it would strike.

          “The third basin is the worst we have seen yet, Andy, and they only get worse from here. This basin includes those who were positioned in places of power, and who abused this power. You will meet people here who spread misinformation to their people, and who declared unjust actions against the people they were trusted to rule.
“What happens to them” I asked skeptically.
          “For those who spread lies, they never receive truth from anyone they meet. And if they do, their brains twist their words into those which are untrue. Therefore they live in a state of never-ending loss, distrust and paranoia. For those who push their people into conflict, they are forced to fight useless engagements with each other, endlessly.”
          We shuffled past the wall on the south side of this basin, and then we were in full view of it. The war seemed to rage continuously. Hundreds upon hundreds of people were fighting with anything they could pick up. Rocks, sticks, even limbs were being picked up, ripped off , and used to beat each other in a futile attempt to win a war that never should have started. I felt sick. Then I began to recognize some of the faces. The most prominent of those I saw was Joseph Goebbels, the master of propaganda for Hitler during the Second World War. However, he wasn’t fighting. He was talking to another man above the battle, to George’s left, about who was winning.
          “Obviously one side is winning, but which side??” the man opposite Joseph stated.
          “The side on the right is winning actually, by a large margin.” The thick German accent made his speech almost impossible to understand.
          Both were wrong, of course. Neither side could move the other by an inch, and if any side was getting the better of the battle, these men would never know or believe it. They could only talk in falsities. I tried to imagine what that would be like, but every time I thought I could conceive of it, I saw a loophole that had someone telling the truth. I decided to talk to Joseph, but George steered me away from it.
          “If you were to talk to him, you would only be able to talk in falsehoods. Or if you told him the truth, his mind would warp and twist your words to beyond recognition. Thus speaking with him would only delay us from our ultimate goal of getting out of here before we go crazy too.”
          I agreed with him. Totally.

          As we left the third basin behind us, I heard the cries of Joseph as he tried to understand the lies he was being given. But I had to quickly refocus as I saw what lay in our path. Before us we saw a family of cats, climbing through the rubble and steel that made up the jail. They were jet black, and from the look of them, had red eyes, and no pupils. This site freaked me out quite a bit, and I ran at them, attempting to scare them off. However, as I approached, they showed their teeth, and I was the one to back off. They were razor sharp.
          “Andy! Watch out! While that may look like a regular cat, it is nothing of the sort.”
          “Yea, I figured that when I saw the razor teeth and the red eyes” I stuttered. The family had since moved on, and I rubbed my skin like I have just been shocked.
          “They are the Black Cats of sin, here within the fourth through sixth basins of the prison. They represent the selfish and brutal acts committed by people who could act better, but don’t. The acts of the black cat are more serious than those of the previous basins, and stronger consequences to them. From here on in, the Sopra-re will be patrolling, trying to keep the prison from ripping itself apart; we must be careful.”
          With that sober warning, and the call of the cat behind us, we continued forward towards the fourth basin.
          “Those who reside in the upper levels call this basin the ‘mutant pit’. All these sinners have been changed from their original forms to those that reflect their personalities. Unfortunate for us, we have to pass through this hell-hole.”
          “Yea…Hey, George?” I asked
          “Yes?”
          “Have you ever, you know, actually thought about what happens to these people? I have, and, to be frank, it’s starting to scare me a little. I don’t want to end up like any of them, you know?”
          “Think of it this way, Andy. They committed crimes that they weren’t sorry for, and that is why they are here. If you make a mistake, He will realize that, and as long as you believe in Him, he will save you from this mess, and bring you to heaven.”
          “OK.” Somehow I knew that wouldn’t be the last time I worried for those who were in this hell.
          We continued along, always careful for those hell-cats, which seemed to grow in number as we worked our way through the prison’s medical ward. When we got to the main infirmary however, George made me stop.
          “These are the people who are dismissive towards others, who care nothing for those who suffer misfortune or those whose lives are burdened with trials and tribulations. These were the people who cared only for themselves. Now they are forced into the form that is most dismissed by society; they are all gnats.”
          The infirmary was one large nest. Gnats buzzed around everything. They had long since infested the inside of all the cabinets, and they were all open, revealing more large sacs, which appeared to have more gnats in them. The air couldn’t be breathed; it was so thick with the swarm. They moved back and forth over their nests lazily, until they realized that two perfectly good humans were standing right outside their door. The swarm sped towards the door, filling the air with the buzz of millions of insects, and only George’s quick slamming of the door saved us from an almost certain death.
          “Those gnats are a species not seen on earth. They are the fully grown form, they never turn to flies, and they can bite. Several sets of Sopra have fallen to The Swarm, as they are called, when they wander into the wrong part of the infirmary.”
          As we spoke, The Swarm had returned to its hapless protection of the nest, and had lost all interest in us. I walked up to the glass window built into the door, and watched the insects. It was hard to believe that those insects used to be the rich and snobby of the world. But than again, maybe it wasn’t.
          Our path continued along past The Swarm, to the middle of basin four, where we saw those who overindulged. Their bodies had been completely deformed, some to the point where they could not move, or could no longer function as living things. Obviously just being overindulged on earth was not enough, since their bodies were bloated and mutated in hell.
         Another sin which was punished here were the racists. These people, whose opinions took over their whole bodies, had no bodies in hell, and were forced to float around as living brains without bodies to support them. The most disturbing thing about the whole basin was that the mutants were constantly attempting to reach the brains, to devour them, but the brains constantly floated just above their reach, taunting these mutants who desire all they could have and more, pushing them to the point of insanity.
          The Mutant pit made its impression, and George and I passed through it without a word.

          “Basin five lies before us, Andy. It holds the sinners who performed crimes of passion. Large tables are scattered throughout the level, where those people who abused children in life lie. They are tortured in their minds, with nightmares of their greatest fears. Using power that they had over children in life, these sinners are cowards, and thus, forced to face their inner-most demons again and again. Adulterers create the other half of this basin, and they have all been placed in a huge mob, one that never goes anywhere, or does anything. They stand and walk all day with no purpose, no goal in mind.”
          We walked down a smooth staircase into the fifth basin, where catwalks are set up above the mass of people. Tons of people. All of them with glazed eyes and gaping mouths. They walked in a slow stagger, pushing towards a wall, with ever-consistent strain.
          I asked my guide if they were aware of what they were doing. He responded that somewhere, deep in their minds they did, and each one had probably gone insane at some time or another.
          The catwalk was made of a heavy metal, and it made clanging noises every time we walked a pace. A growing fear in me concluded that at some point, the Sopra-re would hear the noise and come after us. My fears were accurate.
          At the next bend in the metallic gangplank, one of the monstrous creatures was waiting for us.
          “Run!” George yelled, and I did.
          To my left there was another catwalk, paralleling ours, to which I jumped. George, as I looked back, had elected to jump to a catwalk to his right. The split-up confused the Sopra-re for a moment, but then it decided to come after me. My jump was made with accuracy, and it took only a split second for me to land on the pathway and begin running forward. The Sopra-re however, had a little more trouble. Its immense bulk strained the catwalk as it landed its jump, and warped some of the metal handrails around the path. One of the rails, broke, which caused the catwalk to twist to its side, spilling me and the creature into the lower level of the basin, where that monstrous mob waited.
          All the time I had been fighting for survival, that monstrous mob had been moving below us. Now, as two bodies toppled down into their masses, they did realize what was going on, and surged around us, preventing us from moving. They moaned like possessed creatures, and their eyes slowly moved from one living creature to the next.
          “Andy! Over here!” George had found a low catwalk to hold himself up on, while he leaned over the rail, offering his hand to me.
          I grabbed it, and was pulled up and out of the mob just in time. The Sopra-re was struggling to stay on top of the mob, or at least stay standing, but it failed at both. The creature fell to the ground, where it was promptly walked over by thousands of uncaring souls. I stared at the gruesome seen for a moment, but we quickly moved on, in fear of other guards from hell.

          We passed from that horrible mob onto what appeared to be the prisons mess hall, where many people sat, chatting and whispering amongst themselves. I asked George what this punishment was, since it seemed like it was no punishment at all.
          “These people are those who commit acts of violence in fits of rage, like assault and battery in modern day law. They have no emotion in hell, for they had too much emotion in life. Their constant arguments and talks consist only of logic, and thus none can win the arguments, just sustain them. You also don’t want to be here when they serve a meal. The food here consists only of the brains of new members to their basin, namely the emotional parts. They act like logical cannibals.”
          I did not want to stay long in this basin, with the image of Hannibal Lector popping up in my brain. However, our path through was blocked by some sort of wall, made completely out of ice.
          It was indeed another form of punishment for those who recklessly endanger others during life. The feet of those sinners were stuck in the ice, while they were free from the wall, only to be slowly frozen as the wall expanded. George told me that their body heat was taken away, and if they tried to melt the ice with their hands, it would only result in their hands being frozen as well. Those encased within were in various stages of freezing. Some had only their feet within the wall, while others were frozen up to their necks. One unfortunate soul had used a hand to cover his shin, and was freezing in a very uncomfortable position. Then again, any position is uncomfortable when you are freezing.
          The wall was thick, as far as I could tell. I dared not touch it in case I too was frozen into the expanding barrier. I asked why those who endangered others had to suffer this fate.
          “Those who endanger others have cold hearts that only care about themselves. In hell, since you have no body heat, you are be consumed by the ice within your heart. That consumption takes place through this wall, which is a barrier between acts of selfishness and acts of true hate.”
          “So past this wall are the really bad sins?” I asked.
          “Yes. The worst imaginable.”
          “And that is where we are going?”
          “Yes.”

          Carefully avoiding the ice wall, we slid under a small hole in the barrier and continued on to basin seven. By now, it looked less and less like a prison and more and more like stereotypical hell. The boundaries had turned from metal and steel structures to cave walls. Shadows and random torches hauntingly lit the confines.
          Below our feet were tiny holes, each only the size of a pencil. I wondered what they were. Then I heard it. The sound of locusts.
          “Locusts are the final guardian of the lowest basins. They are truly an example of all who reside here.”
          “Locusts live to destroy” I put it simply.
          “Exactly. Their entire live is devoted to searching for and eating food, thus destroying all they come in contact with.”
          “Are they like The Swarm? Do we have to stay one step ahead of them?” I was worried now.
          “No. They know that eventually they will destroy everything, so they really aren’t pro-actively seeking new prey. There is enough down here.”
          Locusts would appear throughout the levels below seven. And everywhere we went we were reminded that they were the true representation of these final steps through our journey.
          Now we got into the truly dark sins. Basin seven held those who committed sins of trust; they had stolen, blackmailed or conned others in life.
          “Will we get to see the punishments of these sinners?”
          “No” My guide answered.
          I stopped wondering why when I saw basin seven. A huge steel chamber was all that lay in the area. On the outside of this chamber were runic symbols written in blood, seemingly still dripping. I could only guess what was going on inside of the chamber. Unfortunately, George knew, and he told me.
          “On the inside of this chamber lie those who provided hope for others before they stole everything from them. For them, the inside of this chamber is full of creatures from hell, to terrible to describe. Throughout the day, those stuck within this chamber fight to stay in the light, which is provided through a small hole at the top of this chamber. It represents the hope they gave others in life. While in that light, the creatures in the chamber cannot harm them.”
          “But these sinners took that light away when they stole from their victims, right?” I hated to see where this was going.
          “Yes, and Lucifer does the same to them. At night, the chamber is closed, and no light is put into the chamber. No one can escape those creatures then.”
          The light was streaming through the top of the basin, and I could see the opening in the chamber which George described. I asked him to hurry because he was right. I didn’t want to see the punishment of these sinners.
          As we left, I heard a steel mechanism start up, and then heard what can only be described as a steel door slamming shut. I winced. And as we hurried to the next basin, I heard screams from behind us.

          The path we had taken through hell was one of the most terrifying experiences that I have ever been through. But at basin eight I began to realize that these people here were deserving of their punishments, and I began to look at all the people as they truly were. Sinners.
          The people in basin eight had betrayed the trust of those people who had loved them. These betrayers were left here to rot. Literally. These men and women were slowly rotting away, feeling their limbs wither and die off their bodies. The stench when we entered the basin was so strong it brought tears to my eyes. The putrid green of many fallen limbs had created a carpet that we were forced to walk upon to continue our journey. I saw people here who I would have expected to see. Brutus, Cassius, and Judas were all rotting away in this hell. I was surprised to see that even my publisher Jerry Rotock was here. He had taken one of my outlines and passed it on as a free source document for another author to use. He had betrayed me.
          Basin eight was full of betrayers, those who cared nothing for the love given to them by others. I turned away from them, as these sins was so callous, so selfish, so loathing I could not bear to think of the pain they had caused in life.
          I was glad to leave the eighth basin as quickly as we did, and the little time I spent there would haunt me for years to come.

          As we entered circle nine the smell of sulfur hit me hard. I could see small peaks that led from the ground 3 feet into the air. I also could see that they were shooting out lava.
          “Hell comes in all forms, eh Andy?” My guide’s look was stoic, and I quietly agreed with him.
          “This is where you will be delivering your message to Lucifer. But first we need to pass through the ninth basin. It consists of murderers and those who commit suicide.”
          “Wait a minute, murderers and people who commit suicide are punished the same?”
          “Well, yes actually… they both took life away where it was supposed to be. Thus they are both punished the same.”
          “Oh…I guess that makes sense.” I understood his way of thinking, but still disagreed with it.
          When I saw those who inhabited this level of hell, I wasn’t appalled by what was happening. I was thinking of the sins they had committed, and thus I saw justice, not injustice.
          The murderers were slowly being dipped into lava by huge steel prongs, which held them in place. Each one would be dipped for a minute at a time, into a large pool of lava that was formed from the mini-volcanoes scattered throughout the level. They would scream as they entered the lava, and groan as they were pulled out. Their lower portions of their bodies were burned beyond belief, and they were apparently dipped according to their severity of the murder or murders they committed. And at the back of the huge lake, I saw a sailboat floating on the top of the lava. I knew immediately that it was Lucifer.
          We sat at the bank of the lake, wondering what we could deliver our message and get out of their as quick as possible. Our problem was solved when a small rowboat approached us from the ship.
          “We have received the message—you are free to go, Andy” said the man on the boat.
          And we did. We left through a small duct in the wall, which proceeded to drop straight down. Almost like a well. But no water was down in the well, and it must have been 50 feet in diameter.
          “Go ahead Andy, jump right in.” My guide gave me a little shoving motion.
          “No Way! Are you crazy??” I responded to his little shoving motion with enthusiastic shaking of my head.
          “Fine. We will do this the hard way.” George then proceeded to push me into the hole.
          I was falling through hell, a big hole after hell, with no end in sight. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt like I had switched directions. I was falling up, and not down, and when I realized this, I began to wonder if this—

          Andy snapped up in his bed. He looked around, and saw that he was in his loft, in L.A., a city on earth. He was dripping with sweat, and it was still dark outside. Glancing at his bedside clock, he saw that it was 3:30 am. There was a message waiting on his answering machine. He glanced at the number associated with it. The area code was 666. He couldn’t find the courage to listen to it. He turned to the window, just in time to see the eclipse.