At the Gateway to Hell Pt. I

I’d always thought of hell as a place where my worst nightmares would come true but then when I finally stood looking in at it I realized that your worst nightmares simply mislead you. They don’t prepare you for the reality that is much worse.

It had been nearly a fortnight and my dreams spun of gossamer and light had begun to acquire a darker tint. I began to feel the imminent despair that begins to creep into your soul the day that you realize that the race you have been running is now outrunning you. Being faced with a Hobson’s choice wasn’t new to me; it was the content that left a metallic taste in my mouth.

Slowly as the days wore on and the harshness of winter settled into the marrow of the trees, I began to envision endings that I’d kept locked away for a very long time. I dusted off the scraps of courage that I’d left lying around in the furthest recesses of my mind and gathered them to me like a miser grabs pennies to himself, bits of clarity and light that questioned the very necessity of existence and the folly of human life. Clarity that would be necessary for the courage to follow, the courage that I needed to break the cycle of despair that had become a reality of my life.

Loyana called the day I had begun to have my old nightmares again. The same ones that had the power to make me break out in cold sweat. Where the beatings never stopped and the ranting grew louder, where I’d look desperately for ways to escape and the only way out was death, where the darkness was the suffocating black that gave off the stench of fear, I’d fall through the abyss of memories intertwined with the tricks that my head played on me and woke to the sound of my cell phone ringing shrilly.

Warm relief washed over me in waves. I picked up the phone and never have I been so glad to hear Loyana’s voice either before or after.

“Hello desperado, how’s the treasure hunt going?”
“Not very well I’m afraid. All I’ve found is a couple of old boots and a rusted nail.”
“Well looks like I’ll have to bail you out.Pathetic attempt at humor by the way.”
“I don’t accept charity Loyana.”
“And I don’t offer it my dear friend. I have a legitimate business proposition for you if you’re interested. Meet me at the Coffee Shop when you get off work. Then we’ll talk. Bye”

The instrument felt stone cold in my palm. I put it down and got out of bed with more energy than I possessed. Somehow things were going to work out. I should have listened to the voice in my head that said, ”Oh really?”