Hellscape

Chapter 1: The Gate

    In a long, cracked and molded, banana shaped canoe, a grotesquely beautiful demon by the name of Charon pushes the boat and all of its passengers along the river. Plunging the ginormous oar into the grainy riverbed one final time, he clears his throat — the muscles in his sharp jawline twitching with a grin, as he forces his deep raspy voice to be dull and flat, grating it through an old megaphone.

    "Listen up," he barks. "I'm only saying this once, so listen closely. No, we do not offer free refills. Our creatures are not ethically sourced and we breed them in captivity. No one cares about your gluten allergy, don't even bring it up. No, you may not have the key to the restroom. And no, you cannot have the wifi password." Under his breath he whispers, "byteme." Lifting his dark and devious catlike gaze, he adds, "and your tickets are non-refundable."

     The dim glow of lanterns hanging on the mossy walls, excellently light his perfectly sculpted features. One would imagine that a demon sent to work in the darkest and dampest parts of Hell would be ancient and decrepit, weak and disfigured, but Charon was none of those things. He was pale, sure, from all of his time spent in the shadowy cavern, but transporting souls along the shallow and acidic waters of the river has left him strong and severe. His chiseled physique almost suggested that he was carved from the cave itself. She always hated hearing demons, furies, and even a few of the tourists speak of his beauty — not because they were harsh or belittling it, but because he was hers and only she could admire him. But as of late, the whispers including Charon's name had grown louder as he grew closer to the Master, and Melinoe had to force herself to ignore them and him.

    As Charon's canoe saddles up to the old dock, she finds herself watching him move effortlessly — jumping over the crowd, tugging the front end of the boat, and tying it to the split post. The old twisted megaphone cord swings at his side, jerking taut as he yanks it from his hip and releases an aggravated, blaring tone that bounces off of the wet cavern walls. His dark eyes sparkle with hellfire as he looks down upon the squirming cowering group of human souls, covering their ears. He bathes in their anguish, hiding his devilishly charming smile behind the box and clearing his throat, "get off my boat."

    With a morbid fascination, Melinoe keeps her eyes trained on the souls climbing begrudgingly out of the canoe one by one as she sketches them in charcoal. A fat man with a round face and sunken eyes, set behind a thick pair of glasses crawls out first. He waddles away from the dock, steps into the center of the cavern and wipes his cheese dusted fingers off on his round belly. A slender man in a knock off suit struts off of the boat proudly, looking at an empty wrist to check the time and running his long bony fingers through greasy hair.

    Neither of these men are too concerned or frightened or confused. In fact, they appear almost comfortable being here, as if they knew this was their fate.

    They are followed into the middle of the cave by a plain looking pig woman — her nose flat and wide, scrunched up in a huff. She folds her arms over her red-white-and blue chest, looking around the dank space with another snort. Three more souls join their huddle, looking more scared and uncertain than the first three.

    "I've got quite the group for you, Mellie."

    Charon's toothy sneer encourages a blush to creep up her neck. To distract from her flustered response, she closes her sketchbook on the near perfect resemblances of the people in front of her and she pulls out an old rusted tin can. She sets it down on the counter with a clang.

    Twelve eyes grow wide upon seeing her for the first time — not because she's a disgusting demon monster that you would expect to see in the pits of the Underworld, but because of how stark her beauty contrasts with the environment.