Falling in Love in Hell
By: Edward Punales
Tags: LGBTQ, Love, Fiction, Horror, Death

We’d usually take notes for an hour or so, before having to rest somewhere from pure mental exhaustion. The screams and the bloodshed never ended. We had no reprieve.

During one rest period, I took a walk around our makeshift camp. Tim sat curled up under a rock, trying to nap, fruitlessly covering his eyes, ears, and nose to block the sensations of Hell. He still kept calm, but I could see the hands shaking, the nervous glances when he opened his eyes. I’d have prayed for him, but I didn’t think God could hear anything from down there.

The stoic Dr. Stuart sat crossed-legged on the ground, pouring over his notes. He seemed to be taking it better; no pretentions of courage to hide behind, only to watch them falter. Pure reason and logic, in the face of madness and pain. A better shield, but would it hold?

Raoul sat at the edge of the makeshift camp. He was on guard duty. Originally, he and Tim would take shifts, but the young private didn’t feel comfortable being alone in this place for more than a few minutes. Raoul decided to just do it all himself. He didn’t mind.

I walked up to him. He was watching a large winged creature, with seven eyes, five tentacles, and a beard, tending to the growling pups in its nest. The nest sat about twenty meters from the camp. I sat next to Raoul, and we watched the Mama kiss her babies.

“I guess they’re not all bad,” I said. “These guys just seem to be minding their own business.”

“Keep looking,” Raoul said. I did. Another adult-sized creature, the Papa, flew in carrying three screaming, naked souls in his tentacles. He dropped them into the nest, and the babies gobbled them up.

“Jesus,” I said.

“It gets worse,” Raoul went on. “Those poor bastards are gonna be digested, and excreted out alive. The process takes about thirty minutes. The bird things will leave them alone after that. They don’t like the smell.”

“You’ve been watching them for a while I guess.”

“I saw them before, the first time I came here.”

I felt my heart race. “So you are like me?”

He looked at me, and I felt those piercing eyes meet mine. They were dark and sad, and beautiful.

“When did you go to Hell the first time?” Raoul asked.

“When I was fifteen. I sliced open my arms in a bathtub,” I said. I didn’t feel ashamed to share that with him. “I blacked out, and woke up here. I probably was down here for about ten minutes.”

“But it felt longer.”

I nodded.

Raoul nodded too. “I came here only a few months ago. I was on deployment in Afghanistan. Purposely ran into a field of enemy fire. I hoped it’d be enough to kill me. I was gone for something like fifteen minutes.”

He shifted where he sat, and took a candy bar out of his pocket. Miraculously, it hadn’t melted. He broke it in two and gave me half. I watched him take a bite of his.

We turned and watched as a thousand-foot-tall Cyclops took a stroll in the distance. The skin on the titan’s belly moved and swirled like an ocean made of flesh. I looked more carefully, and saw what was going on; a dozen or so people were trapped in his skin, stuck there like they were in quicksand. They struggled and pulled, trying to break free of the beast as they drowned in its demon flesh.

“Can you imagine spending eternity in this place?” I asked.

“I think you’d get used to it after a while,” Raoul said. “The ones who scream and run are probably just the ones who got here recently. I’ve spotted a few who don’t scream.” He took another bite of his candy bar. “It’ll probably be easier for us since we’ve been here before.”

In the intense heat of Hell, I felt cold. “You think we’re gonna go to Hell when we die?”

He shrugged. “We came here the last time. God doesn’t like it when people try to kill themselves.”

“Maybe God will forgive us.”

He shrugged again. “I ain’t gonna hold my breath.”

I felt sorry for him.