-THE INFERNAL GAME-

A journey through Pandemonium in search of redemption begins with a game...

 

     Death is not the end...

 

 

 

     I have travelled the burning highways of Tartarus, the Infernal region, for longer than is imaginable. Each footstep is anguish; the flesh searing and shrivelling upon every footfall and painfully rejuvenating with each step. I have wandered through the shadowy Pathless Wood with its victims enclosed within its suffocating tree boles. I have traversed the forbidding Desert of Burning Sand and seen the charred figures stalking there, wringing their crumbling hands in angst. I have even forded great Phlegathon, the River of Boiling Fire, and wallowed with the gluttonous in the stinking mire of the malbowges trenches under the baleful eye of Minos himself, the Judge of Hell.

 

     Now I descend into the Pit, its twisting convoluted passageways are blackened and choking. The volcanic heat here scalds the withering layers of my blistering skin. Unabated I move down into its sable heart. Nameless faces sealed in the sulphurous walls wail and shriek and clawing fingers are thrust out of every rock. Underfoot, I tread on squirming bodies writhing and rutting in the filth.

 

     Suddenly it is cold and I realise that I am here... in the heart of things. The epicentre to the Realm of Godlessness.

     A foul and stinking wind blasts me, borne upon it are a thousand maniacal, tortured screams. The living breath of the Pit itself. Blackness cloaks me as I walk through the halls of the damned. Spectres and phantasms of a ghastly nature plague this void, drifting and whispering obscene profanities.

     Something in the darkness moves.

     Something vast and leathery shifts; unfolding, uncoiling, waking...

     A baleful, scarlet eye opens and pierces me, like a lance, with its malevolent glare; it blinks once and is gone. The image however haunts me still, emblazoned in my mind's eye. Blood-filled and ensnaring, it hangs suspended by a delicate network of gossamer threads that map a face half hidden in the pitch. The Beast, he is waiting, his hunger for flesh boundless.

     So many are waiting...

    

     I venture on in the stygian gloom the soles of my bare feet are sticking to the frozen floor.

    

     Then a man is there.

     Simply, he appears - materialising out of the darkness. Wordlessly he indicates that I should be seated. We sit cross-legged upon the ground; it is soft and dusty here with the powder of the crushed bones of the myriad dead. He is a gaunt man, emaciated to the point of death. Of hollow eye and a sallow, jaundiced skin that seems to be stretched like parchment over protruding bones. His thin, blue tinged lips are cracked and sore, they weep and part as words form, dry and rasping, in his ancient throat.

 

     -My old adversary you still seek the obolus?-

    

     I nod, knowing that he has found his way here to the Abyss to contest his luck against mine. The coveted obolus; the sacred coin paid as levy to the hooded ferryman, Charon. For only this prize will light the pathway out of limbo, a commodity sought by every suffering soul in this damnable realm, including mine.

    

     I note a presence beside us...

    

     Massive, magnificent, foreboding and reeking of death stands Avernus the Tormentor and Black Knight of Abbadon. He stands as silent witness and impartial judge, presiding over the Infernal Game.

 

 

     Two millennia have passed since the game was last played and two millennia will pass again before it is revisited.

     

     I must not fail.

     I cannot fail.

         

     My opponent clutches a mouldering skull, its cranium laid open to reveal the knucklebones concealed within; he begins the contest. The bones rattle and tumble down into the dust, falling in a pattern that only the Black Knight may read. We wait for the motes to settle and peer down.

 

     Avernus speaks. -The configuration is Ratah -

 

     The rotting skull is passed to me and I scoop up the dry bones and place them within their container. I toss them to the ground.

 

     -The configuration is Kaol-

    

     I have won the first round.

     I return the head. It moans, its bloated gangrenous tongue lolls from the gash of its mouth and a single festering eye glares up at me. His own private torment, I suspect.

     My opponent casts the bones from the skull again.

 

     -The configuration is Talos-

  

     His rheumy eyes flicker up to me, it is a high pattern and besting it will be difficult. The pieces drop dully to the floor bringing smoky whorls of bone dust into the freezing air. I watch as Avernus judges and pronounces his verdict.

 

     -The configuration is Kalah-

 

     The lowest pattern.

     I have lost.

 

     My contestant's third throw results in Phaeral; the highest pattern, I can but equal it. I empty the head of its contents and watch them settle.

 

     Phaeral.

 

     The game is tied.

     The man before me blinks disbelievingly and his twisted mouth flaps open. In spite of this he seems almost pleased that the exquisite torment of the Infernal Game is prolonged. I hand the skull to him.

     The game continues...

 

     His final throw scores Ophar. Another highly placed pattern, he passes the pieces across to me, a semi-satisfied smile playing across his cruel, tattered lips. I don't pause to deliberate or rattle the bones in the ruined head; I simply empty them onto the ground.

 

     There is a barely imperceptible tilt of the Tormentor's helmed head as he casts his cold, blank eyes down upon the pattern between us and he declares what he reads in them.

 

     -The configuration is Talos-

 

     There is silence.

     My opponent stares at me a while and a slow, vicious grin cuts a swath across his face.

 

     -Sobeit- Avernus intones -Charon awaits-

 

     And suddenly it is there, in the air, spinning silently and suspended tantalisingly before me; the obolus, the toll of the dead. My opponent closes his gnarled and bony fingers around the prize and issues a satisfied hiss. He rises woodenly and steps back a pace.

     -The ferryman awaits- He rasps. -I cross the Styx today-

 

     I stare at the configuration in the ground bone dust and despair settles upon me anew, like a heavy mantle. Yet again I have lost the Infernal Game. Another two thousand years will pass. Am I truly doomed, to forever fail and tread the angst-riddled pathways of Hell?

 

     As he fades into ethereality my despair smoulders into rage, I speak unto him:

     There will come a time when I shall gain ascendancy to the world of Man to take my rightful place among them. And when neither force nor God can subdue me, I will see you at the gates of Eden.

 

     Gabriel, my nemesis and Archangel of the Annunciation, fixes me with a hoarfrost gaze of azure blue.

 

     -Not this day, Lucifer, he says, not ever-

 

 

 

 

 

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Music taken from 'The Omen OST' by Jerry Goldsmith (and is creepy as f**k).

Reviews

[Abi Smith]

aawesome... this was absolutely awesome writing!

did u ever read Dante's Divine Comedy???? lol... i haven't finished it as yet but your story
reminded me so much of it :)

this is absolutely a fave. You may be, apart from my boyfriend, my favorite writer here :)

[Doreen]

As usual, you do not disappoint with this tale. Very well written. (Love the creepy music! - perfect choice) The imagery is spot on and the tale wraps itself around you and takes you on a wonderful ride! Excellent.

[Max]

wow...just...wow.
Now words to describe it's awsomeness

[Rcamara]

A really solid peice I enjoyed it. Maybe first person narritive takes away from it, actaully i feel it does. Good solid originality, Thanks for the submission.

[Nicole Hellene]

Hey this was pretty trippy. Seems like something that came right out of Dante's Inferno, but with an original take on the bones game. The whole first paragraph was gruesomely picturesque, I even cringed when you talked about stepping on dead bodies. nice.

[dawnsue541]

Is it truly all based on the roll of the bones? I think so sometimes. Good story. I am still looking for the rest of your book am I to be forever denied? Laughs!

[Phillip J Clayton]

I have travelled the burning highways of Tartarus-that got me from the begining, awessome line!


i'm glad gotha shared your stuff with me, f*****g vodka to you!

cheers!

[Pauline Ramsey]

This had to of been one of my favorite pieces while delibirating for the contest. Great job! I loved it!