For heaven's sake...

Lucy. Black-haired with black eyeliner, devil-red contacts, wearing a black overcoat and smart, black boots. Despite the gothic-ness of her attire, she actually looked quite stunning to those who were out late in the ‘dodgy’ part of downtown Los Angeles. To those people, all they saw was a glimpse of a stunning, sophisticated woman in her early 20’s rushing frantically down the main street, probably late for some urgent meeting. At midnight.
         The people who did see her stared at her in interest and wondered ‘why is this woman here, of all places?’ Homeless men and their homeless friends stared out of their alleyways and garbage bins to see what the frantic clopping of her high-heeled shoes was about. A criminal or two caught sight of her and contemplated a robbery, or even violating her, but decided against it because of their drunken state.
         Lucy rounded a corner into a moonless, high-walled, bare-walled alleyway, one of those alleyways where smoke seems to rise magically from the ground, prostitutes come out to play, and crime syndicates do business or spill blood. No prostitutes that night, nor mafia, triad, Ku Klux Klan members, or their victims. Just Lucy, who came to an abrupt halt at an unmarked door, a door guarding a strange stone doorway with an intricate letter ‘L’ carved at the top.
         Lucy placed her hand on a decaying doorknob, and it swung inwards effortlessly. A horrible tumult of sound erupted from the doorway momentarily, and disappeared with a slam as Lucy passed through the dark gateway.
         There was every sort of horrible soul inside- though it was so dark that nobody could ever see them. A room full of blood-thirsty, immoral beings all thirsting to do nameless horrors to an innocent, God-fearing man. As the door opened, they all looked -at first, hopefully- at Lucy. When they realised it was her, the room fell into a tense silence as they parted way for her and averted their eyes. Though the cavernous room echoed even the slightest of noise, nothing could be heard save the slow footfalls of Lucy’s feet. She passed into a second doorway at the opposite end, was long gone, and still the air of fear did not lift.
         Lucy descended down a stone spiral staircase.
                                       Down.
                                                 Down.
                                                           Down.
         Into the depths of earth below, Lucy went, until stone ceased to exist and the path was all but earth. An inapposite cold breeze blew against Lucy all the way, slowing her progress until she emerged at the end of the passageway.
         The land before them was a white dystopia, like hell on earth. Snow-coloured trees filled every spot of land as far as the eyes could see- trees so bare that their bark had stripped down to the core of the tree. A black sky hung above, if indeed it was the sky and not the earthen ceiling hanging over the underground hell. Millions of people- white as ghost- wandered amid these trees, never stopping, never resting, and never uttering a word. Wandering like ghosts, their blank eyes staring at nothing and everything at the same time.
         Lucy strode past the trees and past the countless people who had scrambled out of her way, once again, with a look of sheer terror. She came to a river, black as a starless, moonless night. People had crowded at this edge of this river, pushing and jostling for positions, and making a huge racket that ceased as soon as they caught sight of Lucy. In an instant, a way had parted to reveal a dilapidated old boat floundering on the surface of the river, and a boatman, wildly swinging a pole to ward off the mob. A look of comprehension dawned on his bearded face when he saw Lucy, and immediately raised his naked bone of an arm in salute. None of the mob made a move to invade the boat. They all knew better.
         “Hello Charon,” spoke Lucy, climbing into the decrepit boat. “How fares my father?”
         “For heaven’s sake, m’lady” complained Charon, grinning a toothless grin, “he’s been a bit annoyed that you’re always late… but otherwise, Lucifer is well…”