Nights of Hell (standard:horror, 4683 words)
Author: A.M. Snead	Added: Sep 25 2002	Views/Reads: 3699/2512	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
When a writer gets trapped within the hellish caverns of his own imagination, he discovers that Hell is not just a place he writes about...but a place that truly exists, whether you believe in it or not.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

"Apparently not."  He said.  "Now if you will excuse me, I have places 
to go." 

"Hell is real, Mr. Vaughn."  The nasal tones lowered to a level that
sent chills up Richard's spine.  He shook it off quickly, refusing to 
admit that this little man was actually beginning to get to him. 

"Thanks for the info." 

"This is not a joke."  The formerly unthreatening image the small man
radiated like a rancid stench vanished, replaced as quickly by a 
forceful determination one could not possibly suspect at first sight.  
"Hell is real and it is waiting for you." 

"Go to-" 

Something solid and heavy was suddenly slammed into his chest.  The
little man's pudgy hand clutched a leather bound book and was pressing 
it fiercely against him.  "It's all in here, Mr. Vaughn.  And no one- 
no one- is immune.  Only those covered in the blood will escape the 
clutches of Hell." 

"Excuse me?"  Richard looked down and realized for the first time that
the man had slammed a bible in his chest.  This man before him, so 
determined and undeterred was a tambourine whacker.  Richard threw back 
his head and roared with laughter.  Good grief, he'd actually let a 
bible thumper make him squirm.  How many times had he come up against 
the religious community?  Thousands?  Somehow this little man had 
managed to conceal his origins until the last moment.  Now, suddenly, 
nothing he said seemed ominous. 

The small man drew back in the face of Richard's laughter.  He tucked
the bible away inside his jacket.  What threatening quality he'd 
managed to summon before had dissipated and now the only threatening 
thing about the short man was his pasty skin and cheesy suit. 

"You people never cease to amaze me."  Richard sneered.  This man had
caused him to suffer uncharacteristic emotions, and now all Richard 
wanted to do was humiliate him to greatest degree.  Nobody put Richard 
Vaughn on the spot, made him squirm, and then just walked away 
unscathed.  No siree.  "You and your holier than thou attitudes.  You 
think you got it all figured out, don't you?  And you're out to save 
the rest of us from our wicked ways.   Well, I got news for you, you 
repulsive little parasite.  You're the ones in need of saving.  You are 
the true victims.  You and your book of fairytales.  You're all a joke, 
don't you realize that?  The world does not want your saving grace."  
He was leaning down, his finger jabbed in the offensive little man's 
face.  The pudgy man backed away as Richard advanced, his vengeance 
kindled to an immeasurable degree.  "There is nothing to be saved from. 
 This Hell you speak of is not a place created by some all powerful god 
for the bad people.  The only hell that truly exists is the one people 
create for themselves.  People like you.  You don't like what you see 
in the world and, instead of trying to make it better, you create 
Heaven and Hell and convince yourselves that some loving god is going 
to whisk you away from all this and take you to Heaven where you will 
reside in eternal bliss."  Richard straightened up and sucked in a deep 
breath, forcing himself to calm.  Losing one's poise was as bad for an 
image as being made to squirm.  He met the little man's stare head on, 
expecting anything but what he saw in his adversary's beady eyes.  
There was no humiliation, no shame, no fear.  No nothing but sympathy.  
Sympathy. 

"I truly pity you, Mr. Vaughn."  The small man said so softly that the
nasal tone had all but vanished.  "Though you may not believe the stuff 
you write...you honestly do believe what you just said.  And I find 
that sad.  Not for myself, but for you.  My fate is sealed no matter 
how ferociously you rant at me and try to convince me otherwise.  I am 
here right now, not for my own satisfaction, but for your sake.  If you 
died this moment, you would discover that the Hell I speak of does, in 
fact, exist.  But then it would be too late for you.  So all I can do 
is give you a glimpse of Hell so compelling that you could not forget 
it in a thousand lifetimes." 

Something about the repulsive little man changed.  Not visibly so much
as...what?  Richard could not put his finger on it, but he was suddenly 
assaulted by the desperate need to get away from this man.  The 
vulnerability suddenly shifted from the small man to himself, and 
vulnerability was his greatest fear, above all else. 

"You belong in an asylum."  Richard's whispered voice shook against his
will.  He stepped unsteadily around the strange man.  Like a viper, the 
man's hand shot out and clutched Richard's jacket, spinning him back 
around with a strength that in no way coincided with the appearance of 
this unfit little man.  Richard stumbled, dropping his briefcase and 
then stepping on it, which only served to throw him more off balance.  
He swore as he fumbled for support and finally latched onto a metal 
pole that held up a No Parking sign.  "What the hell are you-" 

The pudgy man held up a single finger that insanely resembled a sausage
link, silencing Richard mid-sentence.  No one but no one had ever dared 
such a warning gesture to Richard Vaughn and it enraged him, but he 
stood motionless, clutching the sign pole and staring at the little man 
who suddenly seemed more dangerous than one of the creature's in 
Richard's twisted stories.  I am not afraid of this...this man, Richard 
insisted.  This was just the type of freak Richard and his friends had 
terrorized in high school, and he'd be damned if such a man was going 
to get the best of him.  But Richard could not retaliate.  He opened 
his mouth to cuss him out, but no words came.  His arms refused to rise 
up so he could pummel the little fat shrimp.  In fact, he could not 
move at all.  What have you done to me?  His mind screamed as panic 
darkened the edges. 

The strange little man grinned as if he'd heard the question aloud and
thrust his hand against Richard's chest.  No, not against his chest but 
into his chest.  Richard gasped as he literally felt that pudgy hand 
sink through his chest cavity like hot oozing goo and clutch his heart. 
 He could feel the sausage link fingers squeezing the pulsing organ as 
it struggled to pump effectively beneath the fierce grip. 

This isn't happening...can't be happening...  Richard fought for air,
but he couldn't move, couldn't even breathe.  The short eerie man moved 
in closer until his repulsive body was touching Richard's.  Get away 
from me!  Don't touch me!  A plump arm suddenly encircled Richard's 
waist and squeezed.  Richard gasped- or rather attempted to gasp- as 
the little man's strength swelled beyond the boundaries of human 
capability.  God help me Richard's mind whispered desperately.  He 
didn't take the time to realize he had just ridiculed the strange 
little man for even believing in God.  Such rational speculations were 
beyond his ability at the moment. 

Richard's heart shuddered as the plump, oozy fingers flexed around it. 
The strength of the little man's squeezing arm was summoning a darkness 
that began to envelope Richard's mind.  I'm going to die, Richard 
reasoned suddenly.  But even as the thought rippled through him, the 
intense pressure eased slightly.  Richard sucked in one deep breath but 
exhaled as quickly when the pudgy man's entire body softened to the 
same oozing consistency as his hand, and seeped into Richard's body.  
Richard's eyes rolled back in his head.  It felt as if someone were 
pouring hot tar through him.  He wanted to gag, vomit, something...but 
his body was again paralyzed as the strange little man became a part of 
him. 

He was still standing on the sidewalk, clutching the sign pole when
there was no longer any physical evidence of the odd man.  Richard 
stared straight ahead, unable to move, as people passed him by, 
seemingly oblivious.  Had no one just seen what happened?  How could 
they not?  Or perhaps it was all just some phenomenal episode in which 
no fat little man had ever existed.  But if so, why couldn't he move? 

Richard could feel movement, though.  But he wasn't moving, he was
standing motionless.  But no, he wasn't moving.  Something inside him 
was moving.  Horror gripped him as he literally felt the creepy little 
man shifting inside his body, encompassing organs.  Oh God! Oh God! 
HELP ME!!  But then there was only blackness and Richard Vaughn, as the 
world knew him, was never seen again. 

2- Richard opened his eyes as the huge hoof of a mammoth horse descended
towards his head with crushing force.  A strangled cry ripped from him 
and he threw himself sideways as the gargantuan hoof, smothered in long 
black course hair, smashed the muddy earth, sinking two inches.  
Richard looked up with bulging eyes at the rider, clad in black and 
barely visible against the backdrop of the black and gray swirling sky. 
 The rider's face was concealed beneath a heavy hood, but Richard could 
feel his eyes on him.  Pressing his hands into the thick mud, Richard 
tried to scoot away.  Movement from him threw the giant mammoth of a 
horse into a rage and it reared up suddenly, the strangest gutteral 
sound erupting from deep in its chest. 

Richard gasped as terror gripped him.  The sound that emerged from the
giant beast was anything but a natural horse sound.  As fear paralyzed 
his body, Richard slowly raised his eyes to the animal's face as it 
dropped back to the earth.  The beast lowered its head until it's 
flaring nostrils were mere inches from Richard's face.  The stench that 
emitted from the animal's nostrils smelled oddly of brimstone.  But it 
wasn't the smell that horrified Richard.  The creature's face resembled 
that of a horse, but jutting out of its lower jaw were two thick, six 
inch long tusks.  The unnatural beast might have been a twisted 
conjuration of the painter Boris Vallejo. 

Afraid to move, afraid to enrage the beast yet again, Richard lay frozen
in the cold mud.  "Who...who are you?"  His whispered voice quaked 
violently. 

The rider of the unearthly beast sat motionless, but Richard heard a
quiet laugh seep from him.  It was as hideous and spine tingling as the 
sound that had come from the beast, only somehow worse.  Suddenly, the 
rider's arm shot out and Richard saw knarled fingers with jagged claws 
a moment before the hideous hand sank into his hair and jerked him off 
the ground against the side of the frightening animal. 

Darkness swept passed them at a shocking pace as the monster of a horse
barreled forward, smashing through the darkness that swelled and pulsed 
on all sides. 

Oh God!  Oh God- Where AM I!! 

Hideous, soul-wrenching screams lashed out at Richard Vaughn as his body
slammed against the heaving side of the mammoth animal with each 
forward thrust of its powerful legs.  He heard the screams again and 
realized they were his own.  Blood seeped out of his hair and down his 
face as the thing on the horse creature's back dug its claws into 
Richard's scalp. 

Richard clutched at the knarled hand then dropped his bleary stare to
the ground beneath.  But there was no ground, only darkness, as if the 
unearthly horse were galloping through a vast sea of blackness. 

This can't be happening.  That little man, he...he hypnotized me, that's
what he did, he hypnotized- 

Richard Vaughn was falling and falling fast.  Somewhere in the back of
his traumatized mind he realized the strong, clawed hand was no longer 
clutching him, it had let go.  All around him, and even from inside, he 
heard the frightening creature laughing as he dropped away into 
blackness. 

3- Though he could see nothing but darkness, darkness so thick it seemed
to be alive, Richard sensed he was falling through the tunnel of a deep 
pit. 

Pit.  Why did that word scare him so bad?  But he knew, didn't he?  He
had used that word often in his stories.  The pits of Hell.  The fiery 
pits of Satan's lair.  The Nights Of Hell series had been chucked full 
of that little word.  How many times had he dropped a poor unfortunate 
soul into one of those eternal pits?  Hundreds?  Thousands?  And now 
someone had just dropped him into one. 

Though this wasn't one of his stories, he still had a pretty good idea
what awaited him at the bottom.  Horror seized him like an epileptic 
fit and he clawed at the thick darkness, trying to scream but getting 
his lungs filled with a smoke so black and thick that it felt like tar 
each time he opened his mouth. 

Richard gagged and clenched his teeth to prevent the swelling screams
from forcing his mouth open.  He could feel heat now.  Too much heat.  
But it wasn't normal heat, like a warm fire on a cold winter's night.  
No, this heat had fingers, talons, and it reached through the darkness 
and clawed at his skin, boiling flesh with each rake of a nail.  A 
wrenching scream tore from Richard's bowels, vomiting out of his mouth 
with a force that fought the invading black smoke. 

The bottom came suddenly and hard, nearly knocking Richard unconscious
as he smashed against its unyielding surface.  His face against the hot 
ground, he sucked for air that didn't seem available.  He pressed his 
shaking hands into the thick, scalding dirt and tried to push himself 
up, but his body ached and throbbed as if he'd been beaten severely. 

He sensed movement on all sides, but didn't have the strength to raise
his head.  "Where...where am I?"  He gasped then suffered a fit of 
coughs that threatened to turn him inside out. 

A shuffling to his left, then a whispered voice that might have once
been human, but now sounded gutteral, animal-like.  "Don't you know, 
Richard Vaughn?" 

"How...how do you know...my name?" 

A chuckle that pricked the hair on Richard's arm and at the nape of his
neck echoed heavily in the darkness.  "You were our guide, Richard."  
It hissed.  "We followed you here." 

Shaking his head, Richard pushed up on all fours and squinted through
the darkness.  "I...I don't...understand..."  He rasped.  "What are 
you...talking about?  What...what is this...place?" 

"DON'T YOU KNOW!"  The sudden force behind the creepy voice knocked
Richard over onto his back, and the darkness began to ebb away as the 
flickering of firelight slowly illuminated his surroundings. 

Richard whimpered and scooted back, his throat constricting violently. 
A mangled face stared back at him from the confines of a cage 
manufactured out of jagged spears of metal.  As Richard's eyes focused, 
he saw that the cage dangled in mid-air over a lake of pulsating fire.  
The thing inside the cage, once human but not anymore, huddled in a 
ball in the center of the cage in torment as ugly blisters swelled all 
over its body, popped, oozing milky puss, only to swell again.  The 
prisoner's face and body was mangled and disfigured from clawing at 
itself out of unimaginable pain and agony.  Nearly all of its lower lip 
was gone as it, even now, attempted to knaw at what had been chewed 
away an eternity ago. 

Drawing his knees to his chest, Richard buried his face in his arms. 
"Oh God.  Oh God.  No..." 

"God can't hear you here."  The thing's words tumbled out over its
chewed lip and down its chin.  "His time for listening to us is over.  
Look around you...don't you know where you are?" 

Richard was helpless to raise his face.  A sudden gust of flames and
heat revealed to him a stark reality that his mind wasn't prepared for. 
 On all sides of him, cages hung in eternal suspension.  Thousands, 
millions, of cages.  And in each one, a tortured figure huddled.  
Richard watched in paralyzing horror as worms seeped out of the cage 
walls and swirled around the jagged steel.  Hideous worms as Richard 
had never seen before.  And on top of each cage perched a scaled, 
winged creature that grinned back at him in malicious victory. 

Crawling to his feet with more effort than it had ever taken him to
stand, Richard stumbled sideways as his legs threatened to give way 
beneath him.  It was then that he saw just what he had landed on.  The 
piece of ground he stood on was no bigger than five feet in diameter 
and on all sides, licking flames snaked upward hungrily.  He looked 
desperately upward, but there was only smoldering blackness. 

We followed you here.  You were our guide. 

Dizziness overwhelming him, Richard dropped to his knees.  Though it
filled him with revulsion and horror to look at the thing in the first 
cage, he forced his eyes to meet its stare.  "What...what did you mean 
you followed me here?" 

The creature raised a blistered, mangled hand to reveal a book clutched
in its grip.  Richard's eyes bulged.  Though the book was nearly beyond 
recognition, he knew it was his own, written by his own hands.  Nights 
Of Hell. "You opened the door for us."  It rasped.  "Then led us 
through."  It dropped the book and lunged suddenly at the side of the 
cage, slamming against the jagged, cutting bars.  Richard cried out and 
slid backwards as a hideous arm managed to thrust through one of the 
squares, raking off burnt flesh.  Its bony, twisted hand clutched for 
him, but there was no way it could reach him.  "Why didn't you tell us 
there was no going back?  WHY?!" 

Richard was shaking his head, his throat tight.  "I don't...I don't know
what you mean."  He whimpered.  "They were stories.  That's all.  Just 
stories!" 

"You tricked us."  It hissed.  "You tricked us into following you, then
you stepped out and slammed the door on us.  You trapped us here." 

"No..."  Richard thrust a shaking finger at the thing.  "I-I didn't
trick anyone.  I just wrote books.  I didn't even believe the stuff I 
wrote about.  I didn't even believe in Hell!" 

The surface beneath Richard shuddered.  He clutched at the hot ground. 
"Wh-what's happening?"  He wailed.  He jerked his hand back a moment 
before a barred cage wall thrust up out of the dirt, nearly taking his 
hand off.  "Oh Jesus."  He whispered, cold dread filling his mind.  A 
second wall smashed up out of the ground, then a third and a fourth.  
He screamed and clutched frantically at the sharp walls as the dirt 
pillar dropped away beneath him into the licking jaws of the fire 
below.  The jagged pieces of steel cut through the flesh of his hands 
and arms as he struggled to pull himself up and away from the reaching 
tongues of fire that licked at his feet, burning away his shoes and 
blistering his skin. 

"Oh Jesus...help me."  He gasped.  Richard squeezed his eyes shut and
tried again to pull himself up enough to hook his feet through the 
squares, but his arms possessed no strength.  He knew it would only be 
moments before his hands released and dropped him into a flaming lake 
that tortured but never consumed.  And there he would reside for 
eternity. 

"Jesus can't help you now."  The caged creature taunted.  Gradually,
like a slowly building crescendo, the other caged victims began to 
chant and taunt along with the first.  "Jesus can't help you now." 

Tears sizzled on Richard's cheeks as the heat below began to blister his
face.  A mind-shattering ache crept from his shoulders to his hands and 
in a moment of numbing terror felt his grip weaken.  His chin dropped 
to his chest and he stared down at the engulfing fire.  He could feel 
his eyes beginning to turn to jelly from the intense heat and squeezed 
them shut again.  A hissing noise snapped them open a second later. 

Richard looked down and felt his mind crack.  Screaming insanely, he
yanked his legs up, hooking his feet on the side of the cage, as a 
hideous red scaled beast thrust up out of the flames and snapped at his 
dangling body.  Richard pressed his face into his arm and clenched his 
jaw as insanity squeezed his mind. 

This isn't happening.  This isn't happening. 

The ache in arms and shoulders turned to burning.  He would fall, this
he knew.  And when he did, the scaled creature would catch him in its 
jaws.  But he wouldn't die.  No, it wouldn't be over that soon.  It 
would never be over.  The beast would torment him for eternity. 

Richard felt his feet slipping. 

"Do you believe now?"  The creature in the first cage whispered, its
jellied eyes boring into his soul.  "Do you believe in Hell now?" 

His feet slipped free and dropped the weight of his body on his arms
hard, wrenching a scream from him.  He gasped for air, but received 
only sulfuric heat to fill his lungs. 

"Do you believe now?" 

God, help me...please...help me... 

Richard felt his grip loosen. 

"Do you believe?" 

Father, God, don't leave me here...please... 

"Do you believe now, Richard Vaughn?" 

His fingers pried open against their will until he hung by his
fingertips. 

"DO YOU BELIEVE?!" 

Richard felt his fingertips slide away from the jagged bars. "Oh Jesus-
I Believe!"  Richard screamed as his body dropped. 

His eyes squeezed shut, Richard's hand flew to his face as he felt a
gust of hot air encompass him.  A sudden, painful cry wrenched from him 
as his knees cracked down hard against a solid, unyielding surface, 
halting him with a suddenness that shot-put his stomach to his throat. 

4- Richard fell forward, gasping.  To his surprise, his lungs swelled
with cool sweet air.  His eyes opened cautiously and stared down at his 
hands, splayed out over a hard gray surface.  A sudden rush of noise 
engulfed him as he looked around in confusion.  People rushed past just 
feet from him.  Cars honked and drivers swore.  Raising his head 
slowly, Richard Vaughn looked up into a pair of puzzled eyes staring 
down at him out of a round, pudgy face. 

"Mr. Vaughn...are you all right?"  The nasal voiced man asked
doubtfully. 

"What the hell...?"  Grasping a nearby pole, Richard pulled himself up
on shaky legs.  He stared at the little man that had so repulsed him 
earlier and squinted against the late afternoon sun.  "How..."  He 
wavered and clutched the pole tighter.  "How did you...?" 

"How did I what, sir?" 

5- The pudgy little man watched Richard Vaughn as he struggled for words
that would never come.  A glimpse, that was all he'd intended to give 
the man.  But some people required a more intimate experience.  People 
like Richard Vaughn. 

The bewildered writer glanced uncertainly around the busy street.  "I
need..." 

"Need...what, Mr. Vaughn?" 

"I need..."  Vaughn's voice rasped inside his throat as he searched for
what everyone searched for after wakening from a glimpse of their 
eternal future.  Stiffening suddenly, Vaughn released the pole and 
stumbled out into the street, ignoring the screeching of tires and 
honking, vile swearing coming from the drivers. 

The little fat man watched him stagger across the street, up a set of
concrete steps and into a building.  Only after the writer disappeared 
through the doors did the plump little angel raise his eyes to the 
large wooden cross jutting out of the building across the street.  He 
gave a thumbs up and grinned.  "Another one for the home team, boss." 

Watching the doors of the church, knowing Richard Vaughn would not
reappear for a very long time, he shook his head and chuckled.  "Works 
every time." 

THE END 


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