A Gift in the Dark

Another Chance

"No, no. Not again, no, please," cried Charlie as he jerked unwillingly to his feet.

As the crowd bayed their appreciation, Charlie walked puppet-like towards a high dais in the centre of the auditorium, tears of misery streaming down his cheeks. Massive screens flickered to life around the room and the man's sordid history played out in horrific detail. Once complete, the dapper demon smiled broadly and raised his trident for silence, speaking as the sound died down.

"Now then gentle folk of the Upper Level, do we want to give this man Another Chance or have we seen enough of his tawdry little life. Another Chance or The Pit?"

A roar greeted the latter option, and a huge covered section of the floor slid to one side, flames leaping towards the roof from the pit underneath as it did.

The chant started somewhere in the upper levels of the auditorium, temporarily drowning out the screaming of the tortured seating.

"Pit. Pit. Pit. Pit. Pit."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" roared the crowd.

As the tears rolled down the face of the whimpering man, the host spread his wings and dropped from the balcony on which he stood. Still grinning, he grabbed the terrified man by the shoulders and threw him into the pit in the center of the room.

The screams of the man didn't fade. Gary watched in horror as Charlie staggered from the pit, wreathed in fire and desperately trying to put out the flames with burning hands. All the while, he screamed, a never ending burble of pure terror and pain as his skin danced with flames, the flesh crackling and blackening over and over again, the smell of cooking flesh making the other men gag, and prompting screams of delight from the stands. Charlie ran, a flaming torch of despair that streaked from the auditorium, forever burning into the depths of the various hells.

"Well, there we go folks. That's what happens when you spend your pitiful little life playing with children. Next up, it's Number Two. Known to his recently deceased and heaven bound mother as Phil. Come on over here Phil and let's see what you've been up to."

Another sordid little chapter played its way across the screen. Deprived, unloved and self-obsessed, the needle scarred Phil dropped into drugs, dabbled in crime and, desperate for money, killed his mother in order to get another fix.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Shall we get inventive everyone, or do we want to give Phil Another Chance?"

A ripple of noise coruscated around the auditorium until the host raised his arms to restore order. With the noise level back to its normal restive screaming, he grinned wolfishly.

"Let's see what we have behind The Door."

A massive door to one side of the chamber ponderously creaked open, and as the gap widened, a mass of tiny birds flew at incredible speed towards the dais. Within seconds Phil was no longer visible under the mass of needle like beaks, but his agonizing screams echoed with perfect clarity around the auditorium and on into purgatory as he too ran screaming from the hall.

With Phil's screams still fading in the distance, Gary was called to the podium.

"And last but by no means least, it's Gaaarreeeeee." The searchlight canine grin flashed again and Gary looked with horror at the screen. Everyone was going to know, everyone would see his shame and stupidity.

Transfixed, he watched as his last moments played back in glorious flame tinged Technicolour.

He'd always hated his sister. Hated the fact she was brighter, faster, and had more friends; hated her for her charity, her goodness, style and her clean living. The hate grew, festering like a cancer in his heart until by way of a chance meeting in the local pub he had come by a gun. He'd known for a long time he wanted to kill her. He didn't care about the consequences, or the harm it would do to his parents or her children. Her death was all that mattered.

He waited until chance gave him the opportunity and used the gun, aiming it at point blank range, but something went wrong. She lay there sleeping in front of him and he couldn't kill her, nothing happened when he pulled the trigger, nothing but a faint click. Rage had flooded his drink sodden mind and he'd checked the barrel, pulling the trigger to try and clear it, subsequently blowing away half his head and the remaining few seconds of his shoddy life in the process.

Laughter flooded the auditorium. Even the tortured and bleeding seats had been given a momentary reprieve as demons and imps of all sizes howled with mirth, too caught up in the dark and bloody comedy to inflict any pain on their seating. The view on the screen changed and it showed Gary, head bowed on the stand. When he looked up, he saw what Phil had seen in the cell. The left side of his head was a bloody mess, dripping gore and brains, the bones in his skull were exposed and shattered, a massive wound at the back of his head where the bullet had exited. One bloodshot eye looked out from the ruins of his head, bloody tears running down his face as he confronted his actions.

A few minutes later, the tall demon in red had just about managed to compose himself. He had spent several minutes roaring with laughter, and now leant weakly on the chained and gagged human who served as a podium for his notes. After giving the podium a quick stab with a handy knife, and a couple of final giggles he carried on.

"So, there we have it folks, our final offering for Another Chance tonight."

Moving towards Gary, and casually twisting the knife in his now disused armrest, he addressed the crowd once more. "Right then folks, do we give him Another Chance, or see what else we have behind The Door?"

"Chance. Chance. Chance." chanted the crowd.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" screamed the auditorium.

"I get another chance?" said the humiliated Gary.

"Oh yes son, you certainly do. Are you ready?"

"Yes," whispered Gary. "Thank you."

"Oh there's no need to thank me son. Off you go."

Gary crept through the darkness of the house, the gun in his hand. The door to his sister's room swung open at his touch, and he winced as the hinges creaked in the silence of the night.

He was sweating profusely, the stench of his own trepidation and fear filling his nostrils, several large fortifying whiskies churning madly in his stomach.

Just inside the door, he stopped. His brain was screaming something at him as he entered the room, an endlessly repeating mantra clawing at the inside of his head.

"No, don't do it. No, no, no!"

Nothing happened when he pulled the trigger. Of its own accord, the hand holding the gun lifted. Unable to controls his actions, Gary watched in screaming horror from the inside of his head as the barrel lifted towards his eye and the trigger depressed in slow motion stupid reflex.

BANG

The red skinned and giggling host was leaning on his punctured and tortured armrest again, shaking with laughter.

"Oh dear I can't get enough of that. Gary, Gary, Gary, you really are the best contestant we've had on here in years. What do think folks, shall we give him Another Chance to experience it again?"

"Yes!" roared the crowd. As the affirmation filled the room, the demon leaned in close and whispered in Gary's ear.

"Welcome to Hell son, it only gets worse."

~~~ The End ~~~