Into The Abyss

Caleb

The corridor tunnel-thing we’ve been traveling through for – honestly? I have no idea how long. I just know that there is a reddish-yellowy glow up ahead that reminds me of glowing coals. I always liked that color. The color of toasting marshmallows and staying up late on summer nights.

It was a cozy color. A fun-with-mom color. The color of snuggles, and cuddles in the starlight around a campfire, and…my stomach heaves and I vomit all over The-Thing-That-Doesn’t-Need-A-Body. I will never think of this color the same way again.

“Blargshedk” It contorts and tries to dodge out of the way. But some of my puke lands on it and…sinks into its body. If I didn’t know better I’d think the tone of its…voice? It’s tone sounds pretty grossed out. Like I would if I got puked on. “Blargsheee-ee-eedk!”

It’s almost whimpering in disgust as it tries to wiggle the part of its body my puke fell into and shake the vomit out of itself. I giggle a little bit.

“Serves you right.” The Thing pauses its undulating movement and lifts me out in front of it. I once saw someone hold a baby without a diaper like this. The amorphous shape has no eyes but I swear it is giving me a squint-eyed glare. Then it deflates a little – like a sigh – and continues on our way.

But, I get turned around facing away from the thing instead of looking backward over the equivalent of its shoulders. Bright side? I get to see where we are going without craning my head around. The downside? There’s nothing between me and where we are going.

Now I can see that the tunnel is getting wider. Gradually at first but much faster now. Wider and brighter. The wailing is getting louder, too.

I can hear individual voices. Sharp shouts that echo over other sounds. Chanting, fighting, screaming, and…arguing? Yes! That was definitely an argument.

Then suddenly we are out of the tunnel and space falls away into the distance. An enormous cavern. Huge. Gigantic. Colossal. I think even my English teacher would agree that ‘Titanic’ could be appropriately used in this description. For the briefest second, my terror is partially eclipsed by a moment of pride in myself for remembering that spelling word.

T-I-T-A-N-I-C.

It is purely force of habit as I recite the letters rhythmically in my head. Then the letters start repeating. Like the beat of an off-kilter song. One of those mna…mnu…mnemonic…pneumatic? Darn. Stupid vocab words being all hard to remember.

T-I-T-A-N-I-C. T-I-T-A-N-I-C. T-I-T-A-N-I-C.

Yep. I’m in hell as the spelling of one word repeats itself in my head. My own demented theme song for the end of my existence. Around me, legions of shadow-demon shapes are marching in lines to the thousands of other tunnels which also enter into this great cavern we are now in.

It’s an army. Of demons. Marching on the world above.

Now, when I say marching, how can I explain this? Some of them are ‘traditional’ demon shapes. You know? Head, torso, arms, legs… Okay, so the numbers of arms and legs…aaaand heads…sometimes…vary. But, and this is very important, the ‘traditional’ demons have specific shapes.

The others?

The non-traditional ones?

Those are like the one carrying me. Blobs of pseudo substance with as many tentacle arms as they want. An invading force. Columns and columns of creatures all ‘marching’ – somehow – from a giant set of doors.

Old Timey doors. Like giant wood doors made from planks of giant trees, all held together with big wrought iron hinges. And behind that, a portcullis of huge metal bars lifted high into the darkness. Where the light from the flames of hell couldn’t even pierce the top of this cavern. Both looked creepy and antique. They were dull with a patina of incredible age.

My blob-tastic chariot carried me past this sea of demons straight for a group of larger demons directing the many others. There it stopped and saluted with one tentacle.

“Yes.” A large beast with one, two, three, four…fifteen…I lost count at fifteen heads…spoke with a chorus of voices. My captor made a gurgling belching sound, some kind of communication apparently before the other answered him.

“The Master is busy leading the war effort. Beelzebub has been assigned the…” and here the creature chuckled darkly and I swear the next words came out in a distinctly mocking tone. “…honorof guard and escort duty. He is awaiting you in the green rooms. Return here for redeployment once you have completed your assignment.” My captor squelched out what was clearly derisive laughter.

I shivered at the beast’s words.

Even it seemed distressed by the ‘green rooms’ and whomever Beezelbub was, he was not looked upon fondly by the others.