A Story by Lucy Morningstar ♥

Based on another dream I had; it was originally from a few years ago but I managed to remember what I had written down in the first place. Anyhoo, enjoy :)


Hell is very much like a hospital emergency room. It is full of uncomfortable, sweaty people standing so close together that if you were paying attention you could feel the breath of the person behind you on the back of your neck. The walls were painted white and had absolutely no decorations on them whatsoever, and if you stared at them long enough, which one was bound to do at some point or another, you’d drive yourself completely mad; I’ve seen it happen, and down here, the mad only got madder.  The elderly sat wondering where they were while grasping at whatever part of them happened to hurt most, children sat sobbing in the arms of their parents or running around screaming at the tops of their lungs, there were the people in with gashes situated on common places all over their bodies or bones sticking out and there were the generally ill or disturbed ones that made everyone extremely uncomfortable by being too friendly or not friendly enough. Usually people’s moods varied depending on how they got here, but most people carried their former dispositions into the afterlife.


If you were lucky enough to grab a seat, you weren’t there for long. Much like a real waiting room, everyone was assigned a number when they came in and when that number was called, they would come and take you through the double doors at the other end of the room. Nobody knew what was behind the doors because nobody ever came back and frankly, I don’t think I wanted to know. Unlike some of the other people, I kind of liked it here; there were always new faces and interesting people to meet.


I remember the day I got here like it was yesterday; maybe it had been, maybe it hadn’t. Time went by differently down here compared to the world of the living. What felt like a day here could be 100 years there, but I knew that it hadn’t been long since I had died; I remember walking down the sidewalk, listening to my iPod and not paying attention when I began to cross the street and was hit by a school bus. What a way to go for someone who hated school; it felt almost like the universe was delivering a hard-core slap to the face for not attending class as often as I should have. The sad thing is that I probably would have lived if my stupid backpack hadn’t gotten caught on something under the bus and dragged me a couple hundred feet down the road before somebody noticed that there were legs dragging along the concrete. My body was more broken, bruised and bloody than a UFC fighter fresh out of the ring, so much so that I couldn’t recognise myself when they tried to identify me on their list; see, when we came down here, a picture appeared on their master list of us, and unfortunately, that lovely little image was what we looked like when we died.


I walked around trying to talk to people, but like a real waiting room, nobody was in the mood to talk, and those who were weren’t exactly the kind of people you wanted to talk to. The only people I had had decent conversations with other than myself since arriving here were intellectuals like Rasputin or Hitler; you know, your average, run of the mill kinda messed up people. They were charismatic, and while both had been evil men, you weren’t going to find anyone much different down here; Hell isn’t anything like they tell you about in Sunday school or church camp, it wasn’t some place where you went if you told a few white lies in your lifetime or stole a few things from the convenience store around the corner. No, Hell was full of the worst of the worst, from rapists to serial killers to pedophiles; there wasn’t much of an in-between, other than a few big liars here and there and a couple of politicians, but what was the difference between the two.

Their times had come not long after I started talking to them; Rasputin was called off in the middle of a conversation about the royal family in Russia and his treatment of the young Tsarevich Alexei while Hitler was taken by armed guards in the middle of a talk about the process of writing his book; both men were dragged behind the doors to some unimaginable fate that I’m positive they deserved, but it was things like this that made me question why I was there. It didn’t seem right that a university student who’d done nothing more than smoke weed once in her short life and had alcohol underage would end up in Hell.


It didn’t take long for all the mildly interesting characters to disappear, though the room never emptied. Every day, thousands more would crowd in and stand so uncomfortably close together for lack of space that you were more than likely to have an accidental crotch touching situation if you didn’t or couldn’t place your hands elsewhere. Most of these people were average, run of the mill criminals; one guy who I’d stood next to had stolen a bunch of money from his work to pay for his crippling gambling addiction before being found out by both the police and his wife, at which time he thought it would be a better option to shoot himself right in the head rather than face jail time and the fury of a woman scorned. It wasn’t any fun meeting the same kind of creepy, desperate, pedophilic individuals on a daily basis and seeing them get to walk through the doors after being there only a short time, and none of their stories were ever any good. I often wished there were magazines or books or something to pass the time, but I guess that was part of being in Hell.


I got tired of standing around after what felt like a little eternity, and thankfully, a seat near where I’d been standing freed up when the poor b*****d was dragged away by the same demons that had taken Hitler, so I sat down almost immediately, trying to keep my brains from spilling out in front of anyone new that might be around me. The seat next to me was forcefully evacuated soon after I sat down, and I was joined by a rather sick looking fellow with dark brown hair, bags under his eyes, and a dark ring that went all the way around his neck; he didn’t look to be much older than my dad had been when I died, though I knew it wasn’t him.


“So what’re you in for?” I asked, giving him some semblance of a smile.


“I cheated on my wife and abandoned my kids, so you know, the usual; you?” he asked.


“I honestly have no idea. I didn’t think I’d ever done anything to land myself in hell. I mean, my friends used to joke around and call me Satan but I don’t feel like that’s really Hell worthy, you know?”


“I don’t think this is the real Hell, kid. Wouldn’t there be more demons and fire or some s**t like that?”


“Haven’t the foggiest.”


“You wanna know what the real Hell is? Hell I don’t think is even a place, I mean, we are in a place right now, like, there are walls and doors and things to plunk our asses down on, but isn’t it just a state of mind? Hell I think is something different for everyone, or I used to think that way when I was alive.”

“How do you explain this then?”


“Haven’t the foggiest,” he chuckled, and I smiled, “I guess now that I’m here there’s no point in really denying its existence. Here I am, and here you are, sitting in this under-decorated room in these uncomfortable plastic chairs, and we are here. We are physically here, or rather a part of us is. Seems kinda harsh, doesn’t it, that we should have to spend eternity in a waiting room.”


“You know,” I chuckled, “I think we would’ve gotten along very well in life. You spin the same bullshit I used to when I was alive. I’m Lucy MacDonald, what did you go by?”


“CALLUM TUCKER!” One of the white coat wearing demons was walking around with a clipboard, scanning the crowd until the man next to me raised his hand; she walked up to us, looked him up and down, and nodded her head.


“I guess there’s your answer. It was lovely to meet you, Lucy MacDonald,” Callum said, offering a kind of half-smile before walking with the woman through the double doors and I was once again left sitting alone.


Callum’s own personal views of what Hell meant to each of us as individuals messed me up a bit; I’d always had this pre-determined idea of what it would be like to end up here, I mean, I’d never imagined I would actually be here, but this certainly seemed like a hellish atmosphere to me. But who knows, maybe I was the only one seeing it like this; Callum could have been humouring me but I’d never know now. To be honest, I’d never even considered religion, you know, Heaven or Hell, to be real until I ended up here, and now that I was where I was, it made me wonder what else I’d been wrong about that I hadn’t already considered. Maybe the fact that I’d always believed there was no God had something to do with it, like, maybe this was his way of telling me that I should’ve been praying this whole time, and who knows, maybe I should have been, but it didn’t matter anymore because I was already here.


There was nothing more to do; it seemed as if the waiting room was getting smaller, or maybe more people were arriving and it just seemed cramped, and therefore smaller. I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t about to give up my seat to find out. Despite the fact that I was dead, my arms were getting tired from holding my brains in and walking around would only make them bounce around more. Instead I opted to bring my mangled knees to my chest and curl up in the chair, watching the people around me, but it was all the same.


Time went by and my eyes flicked back and forth over the crowd of people, hoping to spot someone interesting or maybe someone I knew, but there was nothing. I buried my face between my legs, ignoring the sloshing sound my brain made as it swirled about in my skull, and tried to get some rest while I waited to be called through the double doors.


After a while, I felt a tap on the shoulder. The same woman who had taken Callum away stood above me, tapping her clipboard with her pen and making a face before asking, “Are you Lucy MacDonald?”

“The one and only,” I said.


She chuckled, “Listen, Miss MacDonald, there’s been a mistake.”


“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”


“There’s been a mistake, you weren’t supposed to end up here.”


“Oh. Well, that’s good.”


“If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to where you’re supposed to be,” she offered her hand and I took it. We walked towards the double doors and through them into this hallway, where an elevator waited at the end. When we finally arrived, she pressed the lone button on the wall and we waited for the doors to open.


“Things like this happen sometimes, I mean, it’s very rare, but with the amount of people dying every day all over the world, there are bound to be some administrative errors. I hope this doesn’t make you think too poorly of the system,” she said, seeming rather embarrassed by the whole ordeal.


“You know, I wasn’t ever going to think very highly of Hell,” I laughed.


“Fair enough,” the doors opened just as I stopped laughing, and I found myself afraid to go in, even though I knew it would lead to a better place. The woman sort of pushed me in and gave me a small wave before the doors shut, and as soon as I had entered the elevator it seemed like the ride was already over and the doors were re-opening again.


It was so bright I had to cover my eyes, and when they had finally adjusted, I could see my body had reformed. I looked over my hands and chest, feeling my skull and dark red hair, remembering just how much I had missed them. I blinked a few times and pinched myself to make sure it was real before taking a few more steps into the light.


Dante Alighieri once said that the path to paradise began in Hell, and  man was he right, for as much as it saddened me to see them there, when I had really and truly opened my eyes, everyone that I had ever loved was waiting for me. More time had passed than I could comprehend, because they were all here, Mom, Dad, Gramma, Grace (though admittedly, my baby sister was older now and much more beautiful than I ever could have imagined), everyone; I ran into their arms like a child and embraced them as if we had all the time in the world. And do you know what? We really did. 

© 2014 Lucy Morningstar ♥

Author's Note

Lucy Morningstar ♥
I hope everyone enjoyed this little dream/story. Thanks for taking the time to read it :)

My Review

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I loved it! Thanks for the wonderful submissions.

Posted 3 Years Ago

Lucy Morningstar ♥

3 Years Ago

Thanks so much :)

3 Years Ago

Of course. Keep up the good work!
Lucy Morningstar ♥

3 Years Ago

I shall ^_^
Really enjoyed the read. Made me wonder what heaven and hell really were. Thanks for showing this to me.

Posted 3 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Lucy Morningstar ♥

3 Years Ago

anytime, my friend :D thanks so much for the kind words and the review!
this is realy good. one question though: that's heaven, right?

Posted 3 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Lucy Morningstar ♥

3 Years Ago

the end is her in heaven, yes.
thanks for the review :)
that was really good, it has alot of emotions in it :)

Posted 3 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


3 Years Ago

your welcome, that is what i do, keep it up :)
Lucy Morningstar ♥

3 Years Ago

haha i shall :D

3 Years Ago

yea lol :) i will continue to read everything

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4 Reviews
Added on June 11, 2014
Last Updated on June 18, 2014
Tags: hell, gehenna, waiting room, hell is a waiting room, dream, heaven, afterlife, dante alighieri, paradise


Lucy Morningstar ♥
Lucy Morningstar ♥

Ontario, Canada

Im not quite sure what to write here, so I'll just go basic, organized, and boring. Though I assure you I'm not boring lol. Name: Now that I'll Never tell ;) Age: 21 Eye Colour: Deep Blue Hair .. more..