A Sister's Sacrifice Page 2

  I did, and he slid the ring onto my ring finger. “This,” he said, “will keep you unseen in hell, but not in purgatory. Only take it off when you find your sister in hell, because I have a gut feeling she won’t make it to purgatory.”

  “Why’s that? What do you mean?”

  “The ones who are here, and then go there, well…talk about your lost causes. She won’t have the strength to make the trip.”

  “But where do I go?”

  “The ring on your finger is only visible to you and me and the angels, maybe a few others in heaven, but you would never notice them. When the ring’s light flashes brighter then back to its current glow, you know the barrier’s down. Then you close your eyes and just go.”

  I was silent, thinking. Trying to figure out what he meant. “Go? How?”

  He sighed and rubbed his face. “Use your imagination to get there, as they say on Earth.”

  “Saint Jude, why do you seem so, I don’t know, kind of down in the dumps?” I asked, and then wished I hadn’t. I should know better than to pry into a saint’s personal problems.

  He gave me a weak smile, but didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “I’m going to lie down in bed. You go now, and Margery will be outside to take you back across. Margery is the goose. We’ve been companions for billions of years.”

  “But if it’s billions, and you lived in the last two thousand years…” I paused. “I’m so confused.”

  “Time travels both ways,” he answered mysteriously.

  I stood up and shook his hand. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much you’ve helped me, how desperate I’ve been.”

  He stood as well. “Believe me, I know better than anyone.”

  I chuckled, but he kept his face expressionless, eyes drooping. “Well, goodbye. And thanks again.” I turned to the door.

  “Remember,” he said. “Don’t take the ring off in hell unless you’re alone with your sister. Don’t want to get held up there when the barrier closes.”

  I wanted to ask what would happen then, and why anyone in hell would do that to me, but he looked finished with the whole thing and he lay down on his cot, turning his bony back to me.

  I left the cottage and found Margery outside. It was time to get to my castle and wait. And wait. And wait. How long was half an eon?

  4.

  I never figured out how long half an eon was, but a time came when the ring, the magical ring from Saint Jude himself, throbbed and pulsed brighter and softer light. I was fishing with my dad when it happened, and didn’t know how to explain to him what I knew. He’d just forget it, anyway.

  “Dad,” I said, and then stopped. Could someone lie in heaven? Maybe I shouldn’t just in case. Like I said, he’d forget my true story like a healed mosquito bite. “I have to go to hell now. Well, purgatory, and then maybe hell. I’m going to look for Ashley.”

  He reeled his line in slowly. “Okay, Megan. Be careful. I don’t know anything about hell, but you always were the curious one. Be good down there.” He smiled at me, squeezed my hand, then his gaze went back to the lake only he saw.

  I rubbed the ring. It felt like the right thing to do. I closed my eyes and imagined I was going somewhere else. What would it look like? Where were any of these realms we souls existed in? Was hell even down? Was heaven up? Were there ups and downs?

  I opened my eyes when I felt scratching on my right arm, and looked at the red hand trying to get my attention. It had thick, long black claws and three fingers. No thumb. I gasped and looked up.

  What I can only describe as a devilish imp stood in front of me, about two feet shorter than I was. It was completely red all over, and its face was covered in scars and burns. It opened its mouth, revealing jagged black teeth, and hissed, “Never seen you before, pretty.”

  I swatted its hand away. “Leave me alone.”

  “Suit yourself,” it mumbled. “I have others to spy upon, have things to do. You are nothing here, new one.” It turned and left into the darkness.

  And it was just a big blackness all around. I stood there for a long while, unsure of what to do. Sometimes I saw brightly-colored, lit-up symmetrical shapes floating in the black space. The ground I stood on was a reflective black material, and if I turned just right, I could see straight up my gown in the reflections of the colored shapes. We didn’t wear underwear in heaven. I sighed and waited for something to happen, and when it didn’t, I began walking toward the latest neon blue rectangle swirling not too far off in the black space, shining also on the floor in flashing brilliance.

  I saw movements out of the corners of my eyes, but whenever I looked, whatever had been there was gone. I was hesitant to call out asking for help. Saint Jude said there would be both heavenly and hellish types here, though, and I might get lucky and find a soul from my neck of the clouds.

  “Hello?” My voice sounded weak and frail. I cleared my throat. I needed to sound strong so the baddies wouldn’t show interest in me, right? Or would they like that? I went with a calm and even tone. “I’m Megan, and I’m looking for my sister, Ashley. She has long blonde hair like mine, but she has blue eyes instead of brown. We practically look the same. Anyone? Please?”

  More colorful circles, squares and even fractals floated nearby, coming closer to me. All different neon lit colors, spinning lazily.

  I felt a hand on my left shoulder and I spun around.

  Yet again, I had to look down. I gasped at what I saw. It was a little girl, no more than ten, with big green eyes and long braided brown hair. She was naked, and her body was covered in red marks. Her right cheek was an open sore. “What’s wrong with you?” popped out of my mouth before I could think about it.

  “You’re looking for your sister. I heard you say it. Ashley is her name. Ashley, Ashley. Everyone in hell knows of Ashley.” Her voice was raspy and high-pitched, eerie.

  I grasped at the straw. “Tell me what you know about her. Do you know where I can find her? Is she here now?”

  The little damaged girl shook her head. “Not here. She’s never allowed here. She’s one of the damned.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She is the worst kind of soul in hell. We all hate her.” Her eyes closed and she swayed as though she were about to pass out.

  “You’ve met her? Know where she is?”

  “No, never met her. But know all about her. Everyone does.”

  “She’s in hell now? How do I get there?”

  The girl cackled in that whispery way of hers, and I saw her teeth were all gone. Just gums, and they were bleeding. “You’ll never make it out. They’ll keep you. They’ll keep you because you’re Ashley’s sister. The damned love the even more damned.”

  I felt anger rush through me. “She is not damned! Why do you say that? She’s the best person in the world…or afterlife…or whatever you want to call it.”

  “Damned.”

  I stepped back from her. “What happened to you? Why were you in hell?” Curiosity got the better of me.

  “I shot my mom in the face. She had it coming. Didn’t like my grades, always making me do housework. I shot her right in the cheek, and now I have the scar for it. And in hell, the demons don’t let you forget.”

  “Don’t let you forget what?”

  “Just remember they were once angels full of justice, woman. And justice turns to self-righteous pride, then to wickedness to others. They keep us in line, the fallen.” She turned away from me and walked into the darkness.

  “Wait! You didn’t tell me how to get to hell!” I ran after her, but she seemed to have vanished. My gold sandals clapped on the black, shiny floor.

  Another voice whispered in my ear. “Follow the shapes,” it said.

  I turned this way and that, but couldn’t find who said those words to me. There was no soul there!

  I admit I was a li
ttle afraid by that voice. It sounded commanding and powerful. Not to be messed with.

  I decided to take it up on its advice and followed the first yellow hexagon I saw spinning and floating nearby. It would move just a little farther away from me as I got closer, but it always stayed in my line of vision—until I saw a gate. A big, iron gate with statues of angels, like you’d see in a church. But their faces grinned with wicked intentions and it seemed the statues themselves were alive, thinking about how they would unravel my mind into pieces if I looked at them directly for too long. I averted my gaze and approached the iron gate.

  It was cracked open. I pulled it a little further toward me so I could fit through. It creaked loudly and I cringed, peeking back over my shoulder at one of the angel statues. He was looking right at me and his eyes were piercing red. Flames danced there. I couldn’t look away and my mind numbed.

  I felt a pinch on my right ring finger and it broke the trance. I looked down at the ring. It glowed softly. Somehow, it had saved me from whatever the statue’s intentions were.

  I faced the gate again and walked through.

  5.

  I went down a black gravel path lined with miles-high gray stone walls on either side, open sky that black color of purgatory, until I reached a cave entrance. A dog lie beside it, sleeping with its massive brown, blood-covered muzzle resting on crossed paws. I stopped, both not wanting to go into that dark cave, and feeling the urge to pee my pants just looking at this giant beast. Even its incisors hung out of its mouth, two inches long each. It was one scary thing, not to be messed with. Plus, I was a cat person.

  I had to put my trust in the ring, even if this was the period of time heavenly souls could enter hell. I took deep breaths and slipped out of my sandals so I wouldn’t make noise. I tiptoed toward the cave, not making a sound, and then I was right next to it. I could smell rot coming from its fur, the kind of rot from spoiled fish left a week in an outside trash can in the summer waiting for pick-up day.

  It raised its head suddenly, eyes wide open, and shook its tire-sized head, ears flapping with a thunderous thumping sound. I made a mad dash for the cave, not caring if I couldn’t see where I was going or if I was making sound. Pure instinct made me act the way I most shouldn’t. But like Dad said, I was the curious one, and I glanced back as I ran.

  The dog had just been doing that dog thing where they shake their heads when they’re asleep. The beast was positioned just the same as when I first saw it.

  I stopped and caught my breath. I was so out of shape, I thought. It was something different, though. I felt heavier. My body felt like it did on earth, but like I had the onset of the flu. In heaven, I always felt light and good, and now as I stood just inside the dark cave, letting my eyes adjust, I felt completely the opposite.

  I felt worry, too, worry for Ashley being here. How long she had endured it. How was I going to find her?

  I saw that the black cave walls were lined with flaming torches to light the black gravel path. As I could see better, I noticed that the walls had carvings. I examined further.

  I saw mathematical equations next to nude, splayed nymphs. Beautiful landscapes beside jagged imagery of people being tortured and gutted. Strange mythical beasts of both beauty and terror.

  I shuddered. What did all this mean?

  Walking further, feet feeling like they were being shredded up by the stones underfoot, I kept staring at the walls. How deep did this tunnel go, and where was it taking me? Was I already in hell, or was this still the way in? If the latter, then it certainly was quite a production.

  Time felt slow. It took me forever, and then another forever to where I thought I’d have to sit down and rub my feet, but then I saw it. On a wall at the end of the tunnel, with two tunnels leading off to both sides, there was a circle of torches around a bright, clear, perfect green jade…sign? It had to be, but I didn’t know the language. It said something, it had to. What did it say?

  I went up to it and ran my fingers over the shiny polish of the perfect stone. “What are you trying to tell me?” I asked it. Now I knew I was in hell. I was hysterical, talking to a piece of carved rock in a small cave room by myself.

  “You’re doing it wrong,” said a light-toned woman’s voice from the tunnel to my left. I turned.

  Nobody was there.

  Behind me, I heard the same voice say, “You have to read it the right way.”

  I spun around, but no woman.

  Hell really messes with your head. I decided I better start thinking I’m Alice in Wonderland. “What is the right way?” I asked the disembodied voice.

  “The way you know how,” she whispered in my right ear. I felt her breath, even, but she wasn’t there.

  “That’s the problem! I don’t know how.” I waited.

  Waited some more.

  Looked down both tunnels. The one to the left lead to a brightly-lit, orange-hued hall and I felt heat blowing from there, but I couldn’t see much more. The right tunnel glowed a gentle pale blue coming from the supernatural frost that lined its walls and path. I felt a cool breeze when poking my head there, but couldn’t see where it twisted off to.

  “Hey. Hey you,” I said. “Are you still there?”

  “Of course,” said the voice.

  “What’s at the ends of these tunnels?”

  “The one to the left is fire and brimstone, pain and regret. The one to the right is wonders of thought and imagination, and how those things may lead you to madness.”

  Sighing, I looked down both of them again. Ice tunnel it was going to be. I didn’t think I would really lose my mind. I had a firm grip. I even understood one of the math equations I’d seen carved on the black walls earlier.

  I began walking into the soft blue light of the tunnel, but the voice said, “Of course, the key to that part of hell is down the other way. You have to sneak it from Aamon.”

  “Oh.” I paused. “Who’s Aamon, and why does he have the key? And why’s there a locked door to go that way?”

  The voice was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she said, “Too much to explain. Let’s leave it at the hell of wonders can be…thought-provoking.”

  I turned around yet again and went onto the brightly lit path. I walked a ways and started hearing desperate sounds. At first I couldn’t make them out, but the closer I got to the hall where the light came from (it had to be a huge, burning fire pit…typical hell, right?) I heard screams. Screams of physical pain from real people. Human screams. What was happening to them and who was doing it?

  Then it hit me. The voice. How could it even know I was there, in hell? I looked at the ring Saint Jude gave me. It glowed faintly like usual. Was the voice…a heavenly soul? It was aware of me, maybe could see me. What was she?

  The ring had saved me with the dog, so into the burning hall I went.

  There was no hall. I saw volcanos and black rock stretching forever at the end of the short passage, like the clouds eternally expanded in heaven. The screams were worse now, and I heard begging and pleading for pain to stop. Other voices in languages that must be squealing something similar. I knew everyone’s language in heaven, but here, I was dumber than ever.

  The sky was open to however high the cave went, and heavy, orange-red clouds hung low. The volcanos were everywhere, and spilled out lava—every one. Rivers of the stuff flowed freely. There were even bridges of black volcanic stone built over many of the lava flows so souls could get around. Did that mean I could feel the pain of burning here if I touched lava?

  Fire spouts spit up here and there unexpectedly. What if I got caught in one of those?

  What was I thinking? I already died! Nothing here could kill me again, could it?

  I had no idea where Aamon would be or who he was. I still heard the cries of agony, but saw nothing and no one. Just the volcanos, lava, the low and seemingly burning clouds, and the f
ire sprouting up in plumes.

  I picked a path where I saw a series of bridges that led out of sight and would take me the farthest without getting lavafied, and headed that way. I still worried about the voice. My nerves were frazzled, like I’d just found out my sister died when we were on Earth.

  My sister died…I remembered it now. How she died, when. I stopped atop one of the bridges and gazed into the lava, my heart feeling all the loss and sadness I’d had the moment I’d heard.

  In Earth life, Ashley had been a teacher. A seventh grade teacher, and that’s a rough age for children. One kid brought a knife to school to stab another kid over something trivial and stupid, and Ashley saw the knife-bearer pull his weapon out of his bag behind the intended victim’s back. She jumped between them just in time to save the one, but the knife plunged deep into her throat and she bled out in minutes.

  I thought of how that must have been, lying there on the school’s dirty floor, unable to talk, bleeding, letting life go. Tears filled my eyes. I remembered how often I thought those same thoughts in the months after she died, hating that I couldn’t have been there. Wishing she never had to suffer like that.

  “What’s got you down, sugar bear?” said the familiar voice from beside me.

  I wiped my nose. “I just remembered how my sister, Ashley, died. It was awful.”

  “Ashley? The Ashley? Oh, you must have the ring. I thought you were a new-to-hell soul that just stood out to me. There were around 600 souls, but you just popped, were different.” She sounded satisfied that she’d figured something important out.

  I spun in the direction I heard her coming from. “Who are you? How do you know about the ring? There was nobody but me there, I saw! And why are you just a voice?”

  “My real form,” she said coyly, “would freak you out. Maybe later, but for now, it’s better this way. Besides, I don’t have the best reputation in hell.”

  “You mean you’re not from heaven?”

  “I live in a couple places at once, you could say,” she answered, dodging the question. Then she changed the subject. “You couldn’t see all the other souls entering hell, but let me tell you, there was a bunch. The ring doesn’t just hide you from hell’s souls, but it hides them from you, too…sometimes.”