Out of all the things that go unplanned, I think it’s safe to say that this was one of them. I still remember the bright light I started to see when I was reaching the end. I was just expecting something different. The second the bright light dissipated, a set of doors appeared in front of me. I cautiously walked through them and was surprised to find a waiting room filled with other people who looked like regular people. Before I could wonder what everyone else could be in for, the receptionist asked “How can I help you ma’am? “ I walked closer to her desk. “I am not…sure..where I am exactly.” I muttered, almost embarrassingly. “Name?” She asked. “Claire Montgomery.” I responded. The lady typed something in her computer. “You can take a seat now.” The lady said. She must have sensed my apprehension, because she repeated herself, doubling down “Take a seat.” She demanded.

The waiting room was suprising full but I was able to find an empty seat next to an older looking man. “Excuse me, do you know where we are.” I asked the man next to me. He turned his head and looked at me darkly before turning his head back to where it was. What the hell was going on around here? I waited for what seemed like another hour in the room. I was expecting everyone else to be sent through the other set of doors by the receptionist one by one, but nothing happened. I didn’t even sense impatience from the other people in the room, just despair. I felt the receptionist looking at me, sensing my inner panic. “Claire. Claire Montgomery.” The receptionist called. I walked up to the receptionist desk. She pointed to the other set of doors. “You can go right through the door.” I figured I would take another chance “Can I ask-“ “Through the doors” she boomed.

I passed through the doors quickly both wanting to find the end of my curiosity and to avoid any further trouble from the receptionist. I found myself in a small white room. Nothing. I try opening the doors I recently passed through but they wouldn’t budge. I look down and before I know it, the floor beneath me disappears. I drop down to a giant dark cave. If it weren’t for the little fires erupting throughout the cave sporadically, I wouldn’t be able to see anything at all. A smoke cloud appears before me and unveils a man. He scans my face carefully. “Hi, I’m-.” “Claire Montgomery.” He cut me off. “I know who you are” he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I blush. “I don’t know where I am, but I am sure it is a mistake.” I stuttered out. “Is there someone I can speak to about this” I said trying to fish for an answer. He circled me looking at me up and down. “C’mon, who is in charge?” I asked more demandingly than I meant. He places his hand on the small of my back as he leans in and whispers “I am.” He winks at me and vanishes again. My body is tingling. Suddenly, I am less worried about finding a way out and now I wonder how to get further in.

When I first arrived here I thought it wasn’t where I was meant to be. I was terrified. The long dark halls, the constant screams, fire everywhere shining way too bright at all hours. I didn’t know what to do. I felt stuck for so long, in this place of darkness and torture. I tried everything I could think of to get out of hell and return to the gates of heaven. Until one day, I just stopped. I stopped because the fires suddenly felt warm and safe. The screams sounded like a symphony that only I could understand. The dark halls went from a labyrinth of confusion to a labyrinth of protection and safety. I was so confused. Why had this place of death and endless torture and suffering become so welcoming and safe. That’s when I realized, I felt free. Free to let all my secrets and inner demons show themselves whenever to whoever, and knew I wouldn’t be judged for them. I could do whatever I pleased. Whether it was a dark and twisted fantasy or a relaxing urge I had, it didn’t matter. I realized I was more at home here then I ever had been out i the real world.

“This can’t be right.” I say with a panic. One moment I’m walking along the street in New York, minding my own business, and the next I’m who knows where. Standing under a massive gate that’s literally on fire.

I heard the car speeding down the street, but I had a green light. He hit me. Or he must of, because clearly this is some sort of after life. Clearly, I’m dead.

“Hell makes no mistakes.” The guard, a demon, I presume, has a bright red face and eyes blacker than night. He wears a bored expression. I’m sure everyone who makes it Downstairs says the same thing.

“You don’t understand, I did everything right! I’ve never missed a day of school or work in my life, met my deadlines, hugged my grandma.” I ramble on for another minute before he stops me.

“What did you say your name was?” He looks back to his clipboard, searching through a list of names.

“Claire Travis. Claire Elizabeth Travis.”

The demon scans his clipboard again, searching for who knows what. He reviews it for several minutes, not saying a word.

I’m stuck listening to the agonizing screams coming from beyond the gate. Like a nonstop symphony of pain and suffering. This has got to be a mistake. I’m not meant for Hell!

Finally, the demon looks up from his clipboard. He scans me up and down.

“Come with me.” He turns and motions for me to follow. I have to jog to keep up.

We walk down a narrow path shrouded by skeletal trees. The thick dog makes a dense wall on all sides. I can’t see more than ten feet ahead of me.

“Where are we going?” I say, breathless from our quick pace.

“Hell’s Palace.” He says gruffly. “It seems there’s been a mistake.”

…. To be continued

Born youngest Born free A girl so curious Her mind ran free Born into a family Both made from wealth and poverty She started to wonder If she could do more

So she began to read Her mind filling in the blanks That she could not see As the seasons passed She began to see That not everyone Is how they seem

Her family A complicated dad A sensitive mom A brother, always mad A sister, never coming home And her The happiest of them all

Surrounded by grief And the stench of misery The girl kept fighting She wanted to see the world that she believed She wanted to see that everything Was as it was meant to be She needed a light to follow A guide in her hopeless nights

She went to school during the day Wrote at night A world That only she __ Could design She met others like her Only one stood out Her best friend Her other half The girl that she crowned A queen amongst mortals A goddess amongst men She had finally found Her light In the crowd

This girl Born free She ran from her cage And the family that was meant to be hers And she fell Into the arms Of the family That she had chosen

P. S. Your story is not written in ink, but in the choices you choose, and the smiles you do not hide

Okay so I saw this prompt a while ago and I started writing this, but since I saw it again I’ll give you a sneak peak lol.

“But, but this is hell.” I whispered. I could feel my skin burning from the heat of this underworld. The original destination was the golden gates outside of heaven.

“Sorry kid. It seems your good deeds sucked!” Flame laughed maniacally.

I guess that bad deed was too horrible, too awful for heaven. I need to get out of here. I thought as I slowly walked towards the fiery pits of hell.

I have absolutely no clue on what to call this. If you have any ideas you can tell me. (I can and will give you credit!)

I was free falling for what seemed like hours. I was racing through the sky like an Amtrak train. Or was that the ground? Thud! I peeled my eyes open before I could have another thought, to see the tallest flames I’ve ever seen dancing around me. I focused my vision to directly in front of me. Standing in a maid’s outfit was none other than Adolf Hitler. He was bent over in front of me with a pineapple hanging out of his ass. I blinked, thinking I must be dreaming. Nope. Still surrounded by flames and pineapple Hitler. At that instant I know what was going on: I had died and gone to hell.

November 9 (I think)

This started three months ago (I think). You see… I’m dead. In hell, even though I was a good person, just average and run of the mill.

Hell isn’t like the stories my grandmother told, it’s got buildings and towns, along with churches (Satanic but still). I really like it here.

People all my life told me Hell was only fire, it’s not. It’s quite nice, I was even offered a job! I couldn’t believe it!

Well… maybe I could. But anyway i really just wanted to say I’m liking it here.

November 10 (probably)

The angels came for me today. Told me there was a mix up. I said I like it down here. They said I could stay! Said, “Well you can live up there and come down anytime!”

They said the only people not aloud up were people that were pure evil. Looks like I’m hanging around for a bit then!

To say that I was surprised to be warmly welcomed through the gates of Hell by two gorgeous drag queens, clad head to toe in red PVC, was somewhat of an understatement. The blonde, chuckling gently at my perplexed expression, handed me what appeared to be a Bloody Mary.

I scanned around my surroundings, taking in the ornate black marble walls, chandeliers twinkling. Other newcomers mingled around the extravagant black columns around the hall.

The thumping of house music in the distance shook the floors gently.

A young guy in a rhinestone studded flatcap winked at me, his dark brown eyes outlined by a thick layer of black kohl. He approached, smiling. ‘ New to our fiery home?’, he asked.

I nodded, meekly.

' Welcome talk starts in 10,’ he gestured to neat rows of gold and red chairs. I wondered over, taking a seat.

A handsome guy with a head of chestnut brown curls in the row in front turned around.

" I can't believe those religious zealots were right. Damn you, mum." “ so is everyone here…” “gay?” He chuckled. “Yes”.

Strobing lights and music accompanied the welcome video now shining on the wall.

‘One key rule to hell’, it rang out. ‘Every day is a party!”

Confetti cannons shot out drinks tokens as Charlie XCX adorned the speakers.

A lifetime of stressing about hell, and itappeared to be a non stop party, I smiled to myself. I think I might quite like it here.

I’ve always done everything right. I led a good Christian life. I waited until marriage, I was humble, I never held a grudge. Church every Sunday. I only got drunk once.

One time! And in that one little incident where I drank too much alcohol, I hit someone’s car with mine, killing everyone in it and myself.

So I’m supposed to be in Heaven. I’ve led my children to God, as my parents did me. I’ve prayed every night and rarely sinned.

Yet, when my time has come, I open my eyes to a menacing red gate. Two very red demons stand on each side, holding black whips caked in blood.

“This is not Heaven!” I cry, because no way I would be forced to live here after one little mishap.

“No,” the demon on the right side of the gate shifts his grip on the whip, “you must belong here.”

“But-“ I look around for prank cameras or something, anything, to suggest this was fake. “I’m confused. Can you look at my list of sins? It’s very short, really, it is.”

“Quit your stuttering!” Shouts the demon on the left, his red eyes unblinking, “However, we can look at your Deeds.”

With a gesture from Left Demon, Right Demon snaps its fingers and a scroll appears. “Name?”

“Jacob McAllister?”

“Hm. Yes, perhaps this is some misunderstanding… usually people aren’t sent to Hell over getting drunk only once and killing a car full of people…” Righty mutters, “I will take it up with God. Next time an angel comes down, I’ll send word. Now get in there before you get whipped.”

“Wait, when will the-“ but the gates had already closed. I turned around and walked forward tentatively. It was blazing hot, and every single thing was red. Red, red, red red red red RED. Red on red on red. It was a bit of an eyesore, really. There were several people, some covered with whip lashes and most covered in blisters.

I have no idea where to go or what to do. I’m stuck in Hell for who knows how long. I don’t understand why just one thing would send me spiraling into a dark path.

I wished that the angel would come quicker.

Over the next few days, (I think, there wasn’t much indicators of time. Maybe time didn’t even work the same…) I mainly focused on staying out of sight and out of trouble. Every few days or so, Satan himself comes to punish whoever for stupid reasons. Breathing too loud, looking away from the people who were punished, bad posture. I make a friend, Samuel, who makes Hell a bit more tolerable.

Finally, an announcement is… announced, and it tells us that there’s finally an angel coming down here for us.

It’s about time.

I head to the Gate (which was hard to find, mind you). There’s so many people here, but we finally form a single file line. One by one, people are rejected or blessed. The blessed stand in a corner, waiting for who knows what.

Finally it’s my turn.

“Name?” The angel asks, smiling at me.

“Jacob McAllister.”

“Ah, yes.” The angel frowns so slightly I wonder if I’m imagining it. “Complicated record.”

With no other details provided, I have to stand awkwardly as the angel clutches his hands and looks at me intently.

Then he smiles and claps once. “You’re free to pass!”

I breath a sigh of relief and jog to the people in the corner by the Gate. Samuel is next.

A few words between him and the angel. Then he looks defeated, so defeated, and turns. He looks over his shoulder at me and salutes.

No- what? I can’t leave Samuel. He’s been so, so nice to me. He doesn’t deserve Hell- not with Satan and his cruel and unusual punishments (like having people’s eye tick forever. I mean, seriously?).

“Wait!” I yell, running past the angel and hopeful people. “I want to stay.”

Disclaimer: I’m atheist, so if the details are wrong I’m so sorry, I’ve never read the Bible.

She had always been a good person. The kind who never jaywalked, gave generously at every opportunity, and wouldn’t dare take a single grape at the supermarket. She was also the type to see the good in people, even when said good required a microscope to see it.

So, naturally, when her time came, Sadia had certain expectations. With her religious upbringing, she totally expected to find herself face to face with the golden gates, bathed in a blinding celestial light, and greeted by a choir of angels singing "Amazing Grace." Instead, when she opened her eyes again after her death, she found herself staring at tall, foreboding gates made of dark, twisted iron.

The creepy gates loomed large in her view. Their rusted metal twisted into shapes that seemed almost alive, writhing like serpents. All around her a heavy mist with an unsettling purple hue clung to the ground. She hugged herself, shivering from a cold that seemed to seep into her very bones. "Um… hello?" she called softly, her voice trembling. "Is anyone there?"

The gates creaked open, and she hesitated, stepping cautiously inside. “Maybe this is some sort of… waiting room?” she thought, clutching onto her own optimism like a lifeline. But as she ventured further, her hopeful smile faltered.

The cavernous chamber was dark, painted in a black so deep it seemed to swallow the air. An unnatural light, the only source in the room, came from a massive painting that spanned the back wall—a portrait of someone or something she thought she knew. But this wasn’t the cartoonish devil she had imagined. No horns, no flaming red skin—just a gaunt figure with hollow eyes that seemed to follow her every move. Its skin was sickly and pale. Its long limbs thin like gnarled branches. The creature in the frame wore a crooked, knowing smile, like it had just heard the punchline to a joke only it understood.

Sadia slowly stepped forward. At the center of the space, a small wooden elementary school desk greeted her, ridiculously out of place against the eerie backdrop. Standing behind it she now saw was a man. One she instantly recognized—not from any dream or movie, but from every history class and documentary on World War II. Her heart leapt into her throat. “W-Wait! This… this has to be a mistake!” she stammered.

Adolf Hitler, wearing a disheveled uniform, looked up with a scowl, as if her arrival was just another bureaucratic inconvenience. His mustache twitched as he shuffled through papers with all the enthusiasm of a DMV employee on a Monday. The too tiny to be useful chair behind him, one leg shorter than the others, sat unused behind him.

Taking a breath, perhaps the first since entering this nightmare, slapped her with a bizarre odor. A mix of burnt orange peels, pine, and something acrid that made her throat sting. An old radio somewhere played “This Is the Song That Never Ends” on a loop, distorted and maddening. She could swear she heard faint screams punctuating the melody.

Continuing this theme of WTF, she noticed Hitler’s voice sounded garbled, bubbling as if submerged underwater, yet somehow she understood him perfectly. “There has been a mix-up,” he grumbled, tracing his fingers down a massive, ancient tome on the desk. The book’s pages were yellowed and cracked, the cover pulsing with a faint glow of its own.

“A mix-up?” she echoed, her eyebrows knitting together. “This isn’t…”, Sadia pointed up at the ceiling, moving her arm up and down to drive the point.

“No, genius,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here. Yet, here you are.” He gave a reluctant grin that made her stomach twist.

“They’re sorting it out,” he rolled his eyes. “But for now, you’re free to look around. Don’t worry. We won’t chop off your body parts, stick you with spikes, or shove you into the giant microwave…” Hitler went on, demonstrating each torture with his hands as he did so as casually as someone reading off a menu. She felt faint, humming along with the radio just to keep herself grounded.

Finally, he paused and glanced at her dazed expression. “But you,” he said with a sly grin, “are just an observer. The fun is reserved for the residents.”

Sadia collected herself before speaking. “Fun?” she repeated, blinking. Curious, she added, “Do you ever… participate?”

He sneered. “No,” he spat. “I’m the secretary. I don’t have time for frivolity.”

Sadia bit her lip trying not to laugh. “I see…“ A few awkward moments passed before she continued. “So, what do I do now?”

He pointed to what she had thought was a wall to their right. She could see now it was a massive door, perfectly camouflaged in the darkness. “Go through there,” he said flatly. “Have a look around. They will come for you soon.” He scrunched his face as he said these last words.

She pushed against the door. At first, it felt like moving a mountain. But seconds later it swung open with surprising ease. She then saw why.

Behind the door at least two dozen people were gathered, straining to pull it open, each tied with thick ropes to massive iron hooks on the wooden opening. Their faces were contorted in pain, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Among them, she noticed a familiar figure in a giant purple costume—a man dressed as Barney the Dinosaur. He turned, gave her a tired wave, and collapsed onto the ground like a deflated parade balloon.

“Oh… oh my goodness!” she whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth. “This really is Hell.”

As she wandered further, she began to see the strange appeal of the place. To her right, a group of sinners was on a perpetual rollercoaster, endlessly looping through a series of corkscrews and drops, their screams a mix of terror and exhilaration. A sign read, "Eternal Thrills: No Exit."

To her left, a giant stage had been set up, and in the middle stood George Washington, dressed in his old colonial garb but breakdancing furiously to a techno remix of “Yankee Doodle.” Around him, demons cheered and threw neon glow sticks, clearly having a great time.

Everywhere she looked, there was chaos, and yet… it was kind of fun. A crowd had gathered around a pool filled with what appeared to be Jell-O, where people were wrestling, laughing hysterically as they slipped and slid in the gelatinous mess.

She spotted a man dressed like a medieval knight jousting against a demon armed with a pool noodle, and she couldn’t help but giggle. This was Hell, but it wasn’t the Hell she had been taught to fear. It was like some absurd, eternal carnival of the damned.

A thought struck her: she had spent her whole life being good, always following the rules, always playing it safe. And here, here was a place where rules seemed to dissolve, where chaos reigned, where mischief was the order of the day.

How long had she been here? Hours? Days? She realized she was smiling. A genuine, wide grin.

Then, with a sudden lurch, everything changed.

She found herself standing before another set of gates—pearly white, gleaming against a bright blue sky. She realized she was floating, completely naked but it did not matter somehow, with her hair drifting around her face. The gates swung open while a melodic chorus of choir voices sung softly, revealing an angel in a simple robe, smiling warmly.

“Welcome, dear,” the angel said, her voice like a lullaby. “There was an unfortunate mix-up, but it’s all sorted now. You’re where you’re supposed to be now.”

The woman blinked, still processing. “A… mix-up?”

The angel nodded. “Yes, but you’re home now.”

The woman hesitated, then asked, “Um… can I ask a question?”

“Of course, dear,” the angel replied gently.

With a sly grin, she asked, “What would I have to do… to get back, you know, down there?”

The angel’s eyes widened, but then she chuckled softly. “Not something we hear often. Or ever for that matter,” she replied. “But since you asked, you would simply push the red button. But keep in mind, it’s permanent. Or better to say, eternal.”

The woman nodded thoughtfully, eyes twinkling. “I was not aware of that.”

“Nor should you worry. It’s completely fine. Just push the blue button when you enter. You have earned it.” With that the angel vanished.

For a second the woman wondered aloud if she should have asked where these buttons where, but then realized there was no need. She stepped into an elevator that hadn’t been there a moment ago and saw the two buttons—one blue, one red as the angel had said. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pressed a button.

As the doors closed, a familiar, scratchy tune began to play—“This Is the song that never ends…”