Call me Jonah, my parents did. Or they nearly did. They called me john. Johns not particularly a pleasing name, at least not in my opinion. It gives the impression that I’m likely to favour football over all else. Johns are simple, boring. I’m not a John, as much as my parents try to insist upon me that I am.

The small fire cackled in the living room, emitting light upon the oak floor. Something wasn’t quite right in my room. The cat slept soundly in the cradle, whilst the dim candle flickered madly. Yet the silence was unsettling. Or maybe it was the fact that the room was actually a gateway to hell that unsettled me the most

A pulsating hand crawled from beneath the wooden floor board, finger nails thinning from having clawed it’s way from hell.

“Hey.” I greeted, smiling softly towards the hell hand, before groaning at my stupidity. It was a hand. Hands can’t hear you. I shook it. Over all else, it was better to be polite to potential enemies rather than ensure they turn against you. It flinched, before melting into the hand shake. “Mind helping me?” A muffled voice drawled from under the surface of the earth. With a hum, I yanked at the hand, pulling it about surface.

“Nice to meet you, call me Tom.” The figure greeted, it’s defined muscles seemed to gleam in the fire light.

“Jonah. May I ask what you’re doing in my living room?”

He bit his lip “Ah, well I just wanted to escape hell for a bit. You seem like a cool guy, Jay. Want to hang.” With thought, I shrugged a shoulder “Why not? May I ask why you were in hell in the first place?”

He groaned “What I did as a mortal doesn’t matter, mate. What matters is the fact that I deeply regret it.”

With a frown, my mouth seemed to automatically say the words “you don’t really regret it, you’re just saying that because you had to endure torture thanks to your actions.”

He hummed “perhaps. Actually, that’s most likely to be accurate.”

“Well, Tom from hell, would you like to watch Tv?” He frowned, “That sounds boring, like something a John would do. Can’t we just stay here and talk.”

“I’m not called John!” I protested, sitting down on the leather sofa. He sat next to me. “But alright. Let’s talk....Hell, what’s it like? I get the occasional demon in my living room, being the guardian of the gateway and what not, but I’ve not actually been down there myself.”

He sighed “It’s bad, mate. Can we not talk about this?”

“Well, I think you should probably get back down there soon anyway. I’m sure the demons will be missing you”

“Can’t I just...stay here? It’s awful down there! I didn’t even do anything that bad.” He whined

“What did you do?” I insisted once more.

“Ah, you see I might’ve accidentally ordered someone kill JFK.”