The Train To The Envy Ring

We meet at last in the fiery depths of Hell. You might have heard of me as that cowboy from the ring of Wrath...or at least not yet until now. Even the species of cacti near the paths that were regretfully crossed know my name. I raise an eyebrow and smirk at how beautiful you are in your indigo skinny jeans and French violet tank top. The grace within the way you greet me is almost immaculate as your nervousness peers through it. The rattling of my tail erupts through your nerves, yet there is something that makes my presence...inviting to a lovely lady like you. However, as I can tell by that ring on your finger and the sorrowful look in your green eyes, you are still not over how death did you and your significant other part. Well, at least I assume that you were married at some point before you died. I rarely pay attention to the matters of sinners in the Pride Ring, but at the moment under the satanic red sky, the matters of you somehow matter to me.

The ravishing new colour of your hair marks your place in the ring of Pride, sort of like how the scorching tip of a branding iron marks the flank, gaskin, or shoulder of a horse in the ring of Wrath. As toasty as you feel in the heat of the vibrant and overpopulated Pride Ring, you still feel cold, dull, and empty as a widowee. That definition might not be legit in the living world, but it is in the afterlife. You know you must be accompanied by a hellborn in the other six, whether their company is compassionate...or not. But do not fret, my dear. Besides our handshake and my willingness to guide you to another ring, do not touch me...and I will not touch you. Now, follow me to the train station. The best way to get to the Envy Ring is to get on the underground train to it. I know the passage is darkened with a hellish beam of red, sending a chill to quiver down your spine, but perhaps a little company will perk you up along the way. Trust me...

The train already awaits you and me with open doors. You seem rather astonished at its ghoulish appearance, yet it looks so grand in a deep shade like a bottle of grape juice. As if the spookiness of the platform at an intimidatingly short distance from the bottom of the stairs was not haunting enough. Being half-British, you are familiar with underground trains, so you take a swift deep breath and uneasily agree to take this train. I merely consider it the modern equivalent of the steam train to the Wrath Ring. We proceed to pay for our tickets from the machine next to the bulletin board; mine by cash and yours by card. You know what the sign on the board shrieks in bold letters. No unguided sinners allowed by Lucifer's law! Being a lady, you step in the railcar first, your pointed Mary Jane pumps clanking against the steps and floor as my rattling hisses behind you. We take the left side. You suspect that it would be a little rude to stay quiet, so you ask how my day has been. I tell you that it has been ordinary with the errands of taking care of my steed, rounding up hogs and practising my acoustic ballads in the Wrath Ring. Oh, and of course, I also mention how I tend to maintain my desirably slender and muscular figure through the exercises on Satan's Workouts. There are not many passengers on board besides us. As you look at the nearest metro map, I take a whiff of your cheap but sensually enticing perfume.

Right after all the doors close, the train starts at a gentle pace, easing you into the certainty of a safe journey as you sigh with a honeyed smile coated in just about the same shade of crimson as your wavy locks. I could be a gentleman and kiss your hand, but I shall not touch you...if you do not touch me. Besides, we had only just met and I currently have no interest in dating, yet you are still a stunning lady. However, I am leaning towards helping a beautiful avian princess...open her mind towards my kind a little more after...fulfilling some fantasy of hers. An imp in his maroon and deep saffron uniform asks us to show our tickets. And so, we do to avoid getting our asses booted off the train.

"I hope you're having a splendid evening, sir," you say to him.

"You too, ma'am," he responded with graciousness before he heads to the door on the right. So sweet and innocent, ain't ya? For someone who ended up in the Pride Ring of Hell. We continue our little talk as nothing seems to be disrupting our little journey. You remain quite relaxed in your seat as the train enters a...more sinister part of the tunnel...