I’m glad you liked it. You’ve hit the nail on the head with your assessment.

Thank you!

Thank you very much! I’m glad you enjoyed!

Hell is not flaming tombs and florentines. Hell is not brooks of blood or the gilded chains of the plutocratic. No. Hell is the monotonous and mundane. Hell is the every day suffering of survival.

“Hell is the absence of God,” said Baz the demon.

I was taken aback by how wrong human theology had been. Demons, for one, looked disconcertingly normal—fallen angels I supposed, all made in God’s image after all. Hell, most of all, was not as advertised.

“This doesn’t seem so bad to me,” I replied. “I was never much for songs of praise or prostration. This suits me.”

“The punishment for our life of darkness is an eternity apart from the light,” explained Baz further.

“Again, no complaints here. I can see you and everyone around just fine,” I said as I searched my surroundings.

Everything appeared in gradations of normalcy. The sun was still shining, albeit its luster dulled ever so slightly, like a haze hovered about my eyes. The grass, still green, no doubt was greener in the friendly confines of the heavenly illumination. The clothing of my fellow inmates reminded me of the clothes that walked by me every day; clothes that betrayed a sense of privilege and stature, not so refined as to suggest wealth, but sophisticated in the manner that only suburban comfort can be.

I remember the feel of the cotton on my skin. Clean, comfortable, well fitting. The smell of lavender caressed my nose as would a cartoon pie in the cartoons of my youth. For the first time since I was a child, I felt comfortable, as if I were on level footing with my fellow man. The word egalitarian balanced on my tongue. Perhaps Dante had missed the point. We were all finally equal in hell—as far as I could tell at least.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I asked with gratitude in my heart. Life for me was suffering. Life for me was hellacious—certainly not rivers of blood, that is hyperbole—every waking moment was struggle and strife. In death, I finally found rest.

“We have all earned our place,” said Baz. “Through means and methods private and peculiar, we have each turned our backs on God. We live out eternity in this place as punishment.”

I scoffed at this remark. It was not I who turned my back on God. He had turned his back on me.

My parents raised me to believe that if I performed acts of righteousness, if I was kind to the downtrodden, if I prayed every day and attended church every Sunday, I would be blessed. I was owed a blessing by virtue of being a messenger of the good word.

The prosperity gospel.

Hogwash. All of that. I wasn’t blessed a day in my life. I was given no quarter by life, no hand extended by my neighbor, no bootstrap ever strong enough to support my weight—and later in life, no boot ever dry enough to warm my feet. No. I was never extended the same kindness I had paid out early in life. I slowly faded into the background of the city, a fixture lacking focus, a set piece never illuminated by the spotlight of life. At best I was ignored, at worst I was beaten. Although, that beating led here. So maybe it wasn’t the worst thing to have happened to me.

I looked Baz up and down. He looked me directly in the eyes—I couldn’t remember the last time I had experienced a gaze intent and intentional.

“Can you show me to my living quarters?” I inquired.

“It’s not far from here. Follow me,” said Baz as he turned toward a large gray building.

I followed behind Baz and continued to breath in my surroundings. My stride was long, prideful for the first time. I eagerly anticipated a roof over my head. What luxury awaits. As I strode along, I noticed the furtive glances of neighbors and demons alike. Perhaps it had been some time since they had seen a face so content. In my view, there was nothing to fear, there was nothing to fret. I would have a place all my own, a bed to sleep in, nourishment and leisure time.

This was a veritable paradise.

“Here is your quarters,” said Baz as he pushed open a beige door with the number 1129 on it. We had climbed 11 flights of stairs—apparently elevators do not exist in hell—and yet I wasn’t breathing heavy in the slightest. My physical health was the best it had ever been.

I scanned the room with a grin wide on my face. To many, the space was nothing special. To me, it was palatial. A twin bed tucked in the corner, topped by one pillow. A small desk opposite the bed, a solitary lamp shown upon a note book and pen. The window had no dressing, but looked out upon the gray expanse of the cittern below—I could see into another building across the street from mine.

“Thank you, Baz. This will be just fine,” I said as I walked over to the bed and laid down. I stared at the ceiling and closed my eyes. The bed was firm but cradled my body in a matter that felt at once foreign and maternal.

“Before I leave, I should note,” said Baz, “there are many trials and tribulations which await you in this place. Each trial is an opportunity afforded to you to earn ascension into the eternal realm of heavenly light. You would do well to make the most of these trials and work over the millennium ahead to earn your place among the chorus of angels in the court of heaven.”

I sat up and gave Baz the toothiest grin I could and said, “I’m already here.”

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Thank you! And that’s quite a dark turn there…but I’m not opposed.

Hahah oh my god. That’s amazing. Safe to say we took two very different approaches to this prompt.

Rudolph stormed off to his cottage, his nose pulsing with red-hot rage. He stormed through the living room so quickly his father hadn’t had time to even say hello. He slammed the door to his bedroom and fell onto his bed.

“Knock, knock,” said his father, “what’s this all about, son?”

“It’s the others,” said Rudolph, “they finally are accepting me, but I know it isn’t real. They only like me because Santa thinks I can help guide the sleigh with my nose.”

“Well that sounds like a wonderful thing, bud,” said his father. “It’s what you’ve always wanted, no?”

Rudolph sat up in his bed and turned to face his father. “No. This isn’t what I’ve always wanted—not exactly. Sure, it is nice to be needed. Sure, it feels good to have my uniqueness finally perceived as a strength. But, it doesn’t change how they’ve treated me in the past. It doesn’t heal the hurt. It doesn’t give me back all those tearful nights and make them all better.”

“I know son,” his father said as he grabbed his hoof, “those were tough times. But tough times make tough reindeer. Sometimes moving on means forgiving those who hurt us.”

“That’s easier said than done,” replied Rudolph.

“I know. I truly do. It was hard on me to see how all of the other reindeer treated you. I can only imagine how hard it was for you. But sometimes what is required of us is bigger than ourselves. If you don’t help Santa tonight, think of all the kids who won’t wake up tomorrow to gifts under the tree. Only you can make that happen. You can use your nose to brighten both the night sky and the lives of children across the globe.”

“I guess so,” sniffled Rudolph. “It just feels wrong that those who have shunned me are going to benefit from my gifts. It feels like I’d be letting myself down if I help, but I’d be insanely selfish to let those kids down.”

“Oh, son. Self love is never selfish.” His father paused and thought a moment. “If you truly need to take this beat, and not guide that sleigh, your mother and I will support you. You need to do what is right for you, first and foremost. I didn’t mean to make you feel selfish. I just want you to know what a benefit to the world your gift can be.

“And, as far as those horrible other reindeer benefitting from your gifts: well, isn’t it true that Santa still gives gifts to children on the naughty list from time to time? Isn’t it true that those kids still deserve to feel warmth and love despite what their actions may be? I’m not saying it will be easy, or even that it will feel good right away, but maybe you can use your gifts to show them how you should have been treated.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Rudolph said as he straightened in his bed. “Maybe I can use my newfound standing to enact some change. Maybe I can make it so that other reindeer with special gifts never have to feel what I felt. Maybe I can lead from the front, and show others that you can look like me and be useful, and needed, and successful, and loved.”

“You are all of those things and more, son,” said his father as he embraced Rudolph in a warm hug. “You make me proud to be your Dad.”

Rudolph’s nose shined bright, enveloping the room in a bright-red glow. “Dad, stop, you’re embarrassing me!”

Rudolph gathered his things and made his way to the door. “Thanks, Dad. I really needed this tonight.”

“Any time son. Now go out there and go down in history!”

“Dad, phrasing!” Shouted Rudolph as his nose fluttered.

“Sorry, sorry,” said his father flustered, “break a leg, son!”

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories at r/InMyLife42Archive

Thanks for the kind words! “The light is gone from my life,” is a derivation of what Teddy Roosevelt wrote in his diary on the day that both his mother and wife died. I’ve always found that phrase and context to be so devastating.

Haha Knights gotta keep it formal!

Thank you! Glad you enjoyed.

Selected excerpts from the journal of Earth’s greatest hero.

5/12/2000

I got my powers today. It was so cool flying around. I don’t know how I ever got by on foot before. I don’t care about getting my driver’s license anymore. Dad told me he’d help me learn to control my strength tomorrow. I need to pick out a hero name and outfit. Maybe mom can stitch something for me.

10/15/2000

Thwarted my first super villain today. Dad finally thought I had developed enough to come along on a call with him. Some villain had stolen nuclear secrets and was threatening to use them unless his demands were met. Dad ultimately was the one to take out the bad guy, but I did a lot to take down the henchmen. Looking forward to teaming up with Dad more and getting stronger.

2/14/2001

I’m in love, I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it.

5/17/2001

Being in love as a hero is hard. I never have time. I feel like no matter what I do, I always let someone down. Why do we hurt the ones we love?

9/4/2001

Got beat pretty badly today. Lucy told me she doesn’t know if she can take it. She worries about me too much when I’m out there. I told her she should see the other guy. Dad says it gets easier as we age, that Lucy will care less about the possibility I’ll die in service to the world as she learns more about me. Mom punched him in the shoulder. I love them.

8/6/2003

The happiest day of my life. Lucy and I are officially married. She wasn’t too happy that I had to leave the reception early to thwart a plot, but she knows that what I do is important. I’m the luckiest man in the world.

6/7/2004

I miss dad. I miss him more each day. I can’t help but feeling there is more I could have done. Why hadn’t I come sooner. Why didn’t he wait for me. I can’t do this alone. I don’t know what to do without him.

11/3/2004

My son was born today. We named him after Dad. He would have been so proud. Lucy was my hero today—I didn’t know that such strength was possible. I have to make my son proud just as my Dad did. I can’t wait for his powers to come in so that I can train him just like Dad did for me. Today was hard. I miss you Dad.

4/29/2010

I feel like I can’t win. If I save a family on the other side of the world, I let my family down. I saved a group of kids from another villain today. But because of it, I missed Jackson’s first tee-ball game. There will be more games, but I know that each day that passes, he is changing and he soon will become a man. I have to cherish what time we have together.

5/18/2010

The light is gone from my life.

5/19/2010

I told Cyrus I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. Lucy paid for my mistakes, my Dad paid for my mistakes. I won’t let my son pay that price too.

5/21/2010

The fuckers took Jackson. Cyrus called me with a ransom! A fucking ransom from my own government. They wanted DNA from me. Said they can’t leave Earth unprotected. They have a new technology that could clone me. I obliged. I told them to leave me the fuck alone.

9/22/2010

Jackson is nervous about starting at a new school. I told him he’d make friends in no time. Its nice being out in the wilderness with him. I feel normal. I don’t miss splitting my mind in every task. I’m finally here for Jackson fully. I only wish I could have been there for Lucy. I miss her.

3/31/2012

I saw myself on the news today—6 of me. Cyrus’s contingency plan must have worked. Oddly comforting knowing I’m still out there doing good, while raising my son. Maybe Cyrus was right.

8/12/2012

Jackson’s powers kicked in this morning. Sooner than mine did! I wonder if I was a late bloomer, or if he’s early. I wish I could ask Dad. I’m conflicted. I’ve looked forward to this moment since the day he was born. This is something uniquely ours to bond over—at least, it used to be. I don’t want him to struggle with the same conflicts I did, to suffer the same losses, the same regrets. Regardless, I owe it to him to help him hone his abilities. I have to allow him to make his own choices. Just as I did.

12/12/2012

Things are bad. Cyrus’s experiment has gone awry. It appears he has lost control of the clones. Surreal to see myself on the news killing innocent people. This, too, feels like my fault.

4/14/2013

I don’t know how much longer I can hold up. I’ve trusted Cyrus to keep Jackson, Mom, and Lucy’s folks safe. I don’t know if I can trust him. I have to trust him.

6/22/2013

I feel silly to be writing right now, but it clears my head. I’ve successfully killed 5 of myself. What a sentence that is to see on the page. I’ve taken a beating. I hope I can hold out longer. I have to hold out longer. I miss you Lucy.

6/25/2013

I killed him. I’m the last of me standing. He wasn’t as strong as I would have thought. Earth’s greatest hero. I miss you Dad.

__________

If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories at r/InMyLife42Archive

“Look, Sir Marwin. Lady Rina sits still at the lakeshore awaiting the return of her long-lost prince. Isn’t it romantic? A love story come to life.”

“Ok, look. Ever since I moved to this Kingdom this has bugged me. Until now I’ve stayed my tongue for fear of execution, but…God I can’t contain it any longer.”

“Speak freely, Sir Marwin. Tell me of what it is that bothers you so.”

“That’s a lake right? The ‘Lake of Longing’?”

“Yes. Named for our Lady’s devotion to the great love of her life.”

“Ok, but it’s a fucking lake…”

“…I’m not sure what you’re getting at, good sir.”

“The dude didn’t sail off to war across a god damn lake. Why the hell does she think he’s gonna float in from across the lake? It’s a small lake for god’s sakes. You can see the other side!”

“But….Sir Marwin. I was there on the day that Lord Humphrey sailed into battle. It was a most somber affair. He climbed aboard a small vessel at the lakeshore—the very place our Lady stands to this day— and sailed away and into battle.”

“You must tell me then: was this a foggy day? Was visibility poor? Did other men go into battle?”

“Why…yes it was a very foggy day. Our Lady oft remarks that her love was swallowed by the clouds. And a small crew ventured off with our Lord but the others had already ventured into battle in the hinterlands.”

“Ok…and how did these other men go to battle? By horseback I imagine?”

“Well, yes. But Lord Humphrey said that there was strategic benefit to his seafaring mission. He would flank the enemy and this maneuver would prove the death-knell of the resistance.”

“Come on. Surely I needn’t pull out a map and show you how he could never have possibly ‘flanked’ anyone. He would have been sailing north while the battle raged 100 miles south of here.”

“Sir Marwin, it is not my place—nor yours—to question the strategic acumen of one such as Lord Humphrey. Surely he had his reasons.”

“Tell me, what is across the lake? Is there a town?”

“Yes, Sir. A town most foul. We are forbidden to step foot in that disgusting place by order of Lady Rina.”

“Yeah. That does it.”

“Whatever do you mean, Sir Marwin.”

“That dude isn’t at battle! He never was. He sailed across the lake to the town, and probably had a bender—probably stumbled his way through a brothel or two. My guess is Lady Rina found out and told him to stay the hell away.”

“Blasphemy! I will not tolerate such words. Do not besmirch the good names of Lord Humphrey and Lady Rina. I say, Sir Marwin. Take your leave of me at once and never speak of this treachery again.”

Sir Marwin bowed and walked away. Lady Rina turned away from the lake and walked toward her attendant.

“Ah Lady Rina, how was thine time at the Lakeside.”

“Oh, fine Cyril, just fine. No sign of that philandering bastard. Probably either drunk in a gutter or dead in the streets.”

“Excellent, my Lady, last time you sighted him it was not a pretty sight.”

“Indeed. ‘Tis wise my father taught me archery and how to light a fire. That bastard won’t try to sail across any time soon. And god knows he’s too lazy to walk the 2 miles around the lake.”

“Hell hath no fury, right my Lady?”

“Damn right, Cyril. Any news for me?”

“Nothing of import. Sir Marwin has volunteered for the war effort in the South. I suggest we send him on his way by morning.”

“Ah, after conquest and glory I see.”

“Something like that.”