A Weird Hell

"DIE! YOU RAT! JUST DIE!"

The last words that he heard, followed by a burning sensation around his lower back and the rest was a blur of orange jumpsuits accompanied by the slippery floor, before Morris collapsed. The blood spurted out of his body and the river of red flowed down the grimy tiles of the shared prison bath.

The inmate who shanked him, gave the old man a few more stabs, before the two prison guards finally marched into the area - Not a hint of panic in their eyes.

The shorter of the two, takes the man aside whilst the lankier guard strides over to the groaning mess of crimson and orange. Upon arrival, the man crouches down, looking down at the writhing body.

“Hey Mister Morris, the new boss sends his regards.”

His words get no response, as Morris groans in pain. A frustrated scowl appears on the warden’s face - It’s not entirely hate, it’s mixed with a shade of disappointment.

"I looked up to you sir.” The guard tugs up his sleeve and displays a tattoo of a tree hosting some owls - A symbol which has become synonymous with his reputation. “I followed you…well, before you did what you did." 

His words barely make it to Morris's ears, the latter's pain spiking and slowly muffling all noise. The man gestures to the wound and continues. "And look where that got you. An old snitch rotting in the slammer, and now it's too late to regret your betrayal."

Regret.

That would be the perfect word to describe his life.

Yes, he did regret a lot.

But not the prison time nor this dog’s death.

A regret for the choices and actions which made him The Owl.

Morris slowly lets go of his gashing cut - The lack of pressure allows the life liquid to escape his body at an alarming rate. As the agony turns to drowsiness, Morris keeps his eyes steady whilst controlling his ragged breaths.

The final moments are not of regret, but rather a shoddy attempt at atonement.

And that’s it.

The feeling in his lower body starts to gets more numb, and he starts to lose consciousness as the scent of soap and piss fade from his nostrils. His mind starts to wander. Before the inevitable darkness hauls him to the depths of the true underworld, he starts seeing flashes or more so, glimpses of people and places he almost doesn't recognize.

The scene of some runts running across a never ending scrap yard, their giggles and laughter ringing out into the setting sun. Another scene plays out. The feeling of climbing the tall fence to outrun the annoying police.

Where is this from?

The feeling of a cold beer in his hands and the beaming faces of some rough faced youngsters. Morris knows that none of them are of drinking age, but how does he know this?

These are flashbacks - These are his memories.
So this is what they mean when they talk about your life flashing before your eyes.

This is sort of nice.

The darkness is just creeping on the edge, almost like the grim reaper has prepared a movie just for him. A tragic highlight reel for a man who doesn’t even deserve this basic courtesy. Before he knows it, the bordering darkness is all that’s left.

Yep. He is dead. No tricks. Just death

Now, where are the doors of Hell? Where is the pot of fire and of souls? Might as well greet the Devil, he will be here for quite a while.

Morris expected to be at judgement by now, but he is just stuck in an empty void...just floating. His body felt formless, almost feeling like a ball of ethereal cotton candy, if you can imagine it.

It seemed like he was waiting for a long time, too long, making him wonder if THE AFTERLIFE is just…nothing?

That’s scary in its own way.
Being thrown into an endless void of darkness with his memories intact. Left to think about his actions till...TILL FOREVER?

Before all of his inner thoughts made him swerve into madness, a sudden stream of pure white light peered out from a distance.

It seemed warm.

It made no gestures or sound, yet it ushered the wandering soul toward itself.

Apart from the new source of radiance, all that’s left is the everlasting darkness and so Morris made the choice to just follow - Better than spending an eternity with the company of his thoughts.

As he gets closer, the light swallows him whole, and his vision peaks into a buzzing whiteness. His formless body starts to get feeling - The feeling of touch, hearing and everything which came with the mortal package.

Morris figured that his body was being prepared to feel the fires of Hell. He resigns himself as the light around him grows stronger, and his vision starts to blackout once more. It would be a lie to say he was not afraid of gruesome punishment but he knows he must suffer.

"Oh Eternal Damnation, here I come~"

The last thought he harbours as the intensity of the light peaks to the highest level and his new sense of hearing starts to ring. His eyes were difficult to open for some reason as he tried to move around but his body was difficult to manoeuvre. It was difficult to simply move an inch but he knows he is in fact alive. Alive for eternal suffering.

But something is weird.

He was sure that Hell was supposed to be hot, painful and everything foul plagued into one giant pit, but he felt…snuggly?
What kind of suffering is this?
Did they change the guidelines of Hell?
Morris wasn't much of a religious nut but he thought he knew the basics.

What is going on?

Slowly he manages to get his eyelids open and a bright ray light pierces through the darkness. For the first few seconds, his vision is flashed with overwhelming brightness, but slowly, the intensity dies down, and the first thing he lays his eyes on is a messy ceiling made out of decaying wood; He can almost see the underside of the thatch peeking from behind the dark wood.

After scanning the place from his position, he could deduce that he was in a room - A very humble and old room. The strange thing apart from his weird mobility is the sheer size of everything.

The singular shelves were massive, lined up with massive jars. The door was gigantic and he could see the ginormous window beside him, from which rays of sunlight were peering in. It seemed like he was lying on an equally giant window sill.

Slowly, the absurdity starts to settle in and his stoicism starts to fizzle out.

If you are gonna torture me, then torture me!

He thinks to himself and tries to shout the sentiment, but all that escapes his throat are some feeble whimpers, which startle him . He tries to raise his voice again but all he manages to do is let out some squeaks and high pitched grunts.

The hell?

Did he lose his ability to speak? What happened to his low rough voice?

Morris starts to struggle fiercely, not quite sure what he is trying to achieve but he needs to at least move or do something - ANYTHING! He hates the silence especially after preparing for the fires of hell;He seems to almost crave the promised punishment.

After an intense effort he manages to raise one of his hands, but what he saw left him with more confusion and chaos. His normally burly forearm, which was glamoured with scars and tattoos...is soft? Huh? In fact…it’s a tiny hand.

Morris proceeds to scream internally.

His thoughts are still trapped within his new body, still not making it out of his mouth. His panic builds up as he tries to figure out why he has deformed hands or more importantly WHAT KIND OF 'HELL' IS THIS?

After a minute, he tries to sit up - This was miles more difficult than just raising his hand, but the need to confirm his location urges him to keep pushing, and after an intense battle with gravity...he fails.

He can't even sit up.

This sets him off as he proceeds to think of the vilest of curse words.
Thankfully his naughty little words only escape in the form of gaggles and grunts...very squeaky grunts. This frustration and anger starts making him feel strangely distressed.

Suddenly, without any warning, his body starts shaking with sobs. This makes him confused, which adds to his frustration, which goes on to fuel the distressful wails. What a pathetic display - He expected himself to hold more control over his emotions, after all he isn't a kid.

Well, about that.

Just as he reaches a new vocal pitch with his wails, the giant door creaks open. He momentarily halts his cries and turns his attention to where the door is and that’s when he sees her. 

 A woman - A GIANT WOMAN.