Feb Week 1 Contest Entry
Prompt: Brigit's Flame: Birds of a Feather...
Author's Note: I'm working on a story about a girl who goes to hell and what she finds there. Feedback is always appreciated.
As I made my way down the hill, I became more accustomed to my surroundings. I was no longer a mess. I was a young woman who died and was in hell. A young woman in hell; hell-bent on escape.
I hadn’t run into very many souls yet. Mostly lone souls who were yammering gibberish to themselves. Not very useful. I needed someone who would talk to me, or at least. Human, demon, whatever. I just needed to gather information.
It doesn’t really matter if they lie to me or not. I am excellent at reading people.
Finally, after what felt like eternity, I met someone who wasn’t mumbling to themselves. Truth be told, when I approached it, I wasn’t much sure what it was. It was huge; at least two stories tall, and brown. It looked porous. Millions, or billions, of small holes perforating its surface.
“Good day!” I greeted them with a confident smile. Faking sincerity and confidence can get you everywhere.
“Indeed it is,” the colossal blob replied.
“Have you been here long?” I asked politely.
“You must know a lot,” I offered. People love to believe that they’re experts, I hoped demons were likewise.
“That’s right,” the beast said as it shifted comfortably.
“Do you know the way out?”
“Do you want to know the way out?”
“Of course!” I said, excited. “Who wouldn’t?!”
“I know the way out…”
“Tell me please,” I begged.
“You shall be told.”
I waited as the beast shifted, and stood silently. I had been trying to find eyes on it for a while. Or even a mouth. I could hear it speak.
“Will you tell me how to escape this wretched pit?” I asked again.
“Yes,” the blob hissed.
I finally noticed it. The blob was not just a blob. It was made up of souls. The holes were the eye sockets and mouths of souls.
“You won’t get any answers from that,” a little black masked fox said, that had just appeared besides me. “It’s Agreeable, it will only agree with whatever you say.”
“Well that’s a waste of time,” I said frustrated.
“Most things here are,” the fox replied.