Chapter 1
Every night, Dreico liked to contemplate how his day had gone. He slept well only if he had the satisfaction of having done something useful. This day, he hadn’t done much. As King of the Underworld, it was his duty to determine in which part of Hell the recently deceased will be assigned and what chore they would repeat day after day until the end of time. There was always something to do: build new sections to accommodate more sinners -and there were always more sinners- some built endlessly, some swept after the builders, some created the materials. Some kept the fires of Hell burning, some built the lava and some built the stoves. Some created balls and chains and other torture objects, some paved roads or built houses, basically, there was more than enough work to go around. Endlessly. Besides, Dreico knew they preferred being worked hard for the rest of eternity than sitting in a corner, eyes lost in trance until they went completely mad. On the other hand, what would be the use in not using them? If not work like they do, Hell would become crowded and dysfunctional, smelly and unclean and completely disorganised. Dreico would not stand that for long. So he put the sinners to work.
Today, the sinners had been easily placed and his work was done quickly. He felt no satisfaction for that. His wife, Laileena had been in one of her empathy states and she needed to be by herself in those times. Being Lady Death wasn’t an easy task, Dreico knew. After all, he had given his wife her powers. It had been too much for him and he already had so much to do. She had gratefully accepted the opportunity to become his equal.
An anguished scream shattered the silence of Dreico’s room. Screams were not unusual in Hell, they were even relished, but this scream was long-lasting, endless, unlike the usual screaming of tortured sinners. It took Dreico a few seconds before realising why the person screaming was familiar to him: Tya! In an instant he vanished from his bedroom to his daughter’s. She was on the floor, curled in a fetal position, hands pressed to her head. When she blinked open her eyes and saw him, the screaming didn’t abate. Instead, it intensified. An image slammed into Dreico of a young woman nearly five hundred years ago with the same long black hair and pleading violet eyes. Laileena, Tya’s mother.
“No!” Dreico whispered, denying the obvious truth but for this situation, there could only be one truth. Tears gathering in his eyes, pain constricting his throat, Dreico nevertheless approached his child. Gently he lifted her in his arms, cradled her against his body then leaned his forehead against hers. He sent peaceful images in her mind: a rainbow after a sudden rain, the morning dew on a spider web, glittering in the sun, a deer and a doe laying side by side, a dog, tail wagging, happy to see its owner and finally images of himself with his daughter at different stages of her relatively short life. “Peace child, peace” He murmured incessantly in her mind. As her screaming gradually abated and her sobs finally quieted down, Dreico whispered one last time in her mind, “Peace Tyanina, my beautiful child.”
She eventually raised her exquisite violet eyes to his face. “Papa? What is happening to me? Why . . ." She'd meant to ask why she was hearing all these thoughts but she couldn't form a coherent sentence. Her mind felt like it was splitting in a million tiny fragments of glass and the pieces were pressing against her brain.
The father could only nod, tears once again pooling in his eyes."You know what this means, Tyanina. The thoughts are transfered to you because your mother . . . Killed herself. You know it's the only way she can die. The only reason you'd feel this."
A soft keening sound escaped his daughter before she pressed a trembling hand to her lips. She closed her eyes and hid her face in her father’s neck.
Dreico stood there for what seemed like forever, cradling his baby girl in his arms, reluctant to let go.
“Tya . . . Tya, I could do it for you, you know. I could reclaim my gift until you are old enough to claim it for yourself.”
She dried her tears and returned her gaze to her father’s. “Papa, please put me down.” He gently let her down then pulled her against him for a hug. After a moment, she gently pulled back. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Thank you, but I’ll do it. I was raised to take my mother’s place and I will. It will be hard but I’ll do my best.”
Dreico studied his daughter then nodded. “And you can always come to me when you need it, you know. You can always count on me, Tyanina.”
Tears gathering in her eyes, she whispered, “I know, Papa, I know. I’ll always need you.” She returned to his arms to hold him and be held. They had both just lost someone. Because Laileena hadn’t been able to cope with her responsibilities, because she had been going half-mad dealing with all the deaths, she had decided to take the easy way out. Laila had just killed herself. Because of her selfish gesture, she had condemned their 10 year old daughter to become Lady Death.
* * *
Tya was sitting on her bed with her hands pressed tightly to her temples. Her eyes were closed but they were flickering rapidly. Hundreds of thoughts were literally crossing her mind, “Is this what dying feels like? Please God, save me, I don’t want to die like this! Susie? Susie! Wake up honey, you can’t leave me now! Please help, help! I’m all alone and I’m hurt, can anyone hear me?”
Tya’s fingers pressed harder against her head until her knuckles turned white but she did not relent on the pressure. The physical pain was somewhat of a relief from the mental one. She didn’t eat or sleep anymore, not since her mother’s death. Not that she didn’t want to, she just couldn’t. The thoughts and emotions and memories going through her mind were driving her to distraction. Every time she tried to take a bite of food, she remembered that millions of people would like to eat but couldn’t; they were sick or wounded or dying. When she tried to sleep, the voices in her head assailed her and every part of her brain. She didn’t need to sleep, didn’t require it but it would be a welcome distraction from the constant chattering going on in her head.
Frustration at her inability to cope with her powers gradually built inside her. Was this how it had been for her mother? No wonder she’d decided to end it. That thought brought tears to Tya’s eyes. She didn’t blame her mother for what she’d done. Because she’d been living with it for the past two weeks, she understood her mother’s decision a bit better. Still . . . Tya had no intention of ending up that way. She needed to find a way to filter all these thoughts, all the dying from the dead, all the desperate from the frantic, all the real pains from the imagined ones. Was that even possible?
“Arrgh!” She cried out. If only she could remove her own head and replace it temporarily with another one to give her time to think! Tya’s eyelids stilled. A thought crossed her busy mind. Could she do that? Not remove her head but remove what was inside? Could she get built a well of souls? Or a ball of souls. Or a pond of souls? Somewhere where she could unleash her thoughts and where she could filter them all to take care of them. She could see right away who needed what kind of assistance.
Her eyes opened wide. She wondered if it was within her new capabilities to create such things as a well, ball or pond of souls. If not, maybe her father could. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she vanished from her bedroom and appeared in her father’s. She discovered he wasn’t there and headed by foot to his court room. If he was deciding Sinners’ fates, he would not appreciate being interrupted by her sudden appearance. The heavy steel doors parted as Tyanina approached her father’s courtroom and closed once she had entered. Tya discovered she had been right; her father was in session with what seemed to be the last sinner of the day. She leaned against the warm wall of the court room as she watched her father address the man before him.
“What is your name?”
“Jeb Porter.”
“And do you know why you are here?”
“Here, where? In this room? In this century? In this life?” Although his question was logical, in a way, the man had sarcasm dripping from his every word.
Dreico frowned. “In Hell. Do you know what you are doing in Hell?”
The man grinned. Obviously, he had perfectly understood the question. “Clearly it is because I know how to have a good time.”
Tya found the man’s arrogance appalling. Surely he must know he was addressing the King of the Underworld, the one who decided his fate.
“A good time?” Dreico’s voice was deceptively calm. “You call raping women and children, small innocent infants, having a good time?”
“Why yes, wouldn’t you? Of course, I understand not everyone has the same tastes but surely you have sampled some of the finer . . .”
The man abruptly stopped speaking, his mouth agape. Tya followed his gaze; ordinarily her father was a good looking man: very tall with shoulder length black hair, black eyes and a muscular figure. When he became furious, it was a different sight altogether. Already six feet five, he grew another foot; he shed his clothes as his body changed to a fiery red colour. Horns grew on his head, his teeth lengthened and a black tail pushed out of his lower back and whipped around him furiously. The terrified man didn’t move, just stood there frozen in place.
Tya tried to stare at her father objectively. He really was a sight to behold in this form. She knew the Sinners consider him to be truly terrifying. And actually, the few times she had visited the humans, she had seen paintings of her father in this form. Although they did not do Dreico justice, the paintings were relatively life-like. The humans called Dreico Satan, his title as King of the Underworld, and they feared him. With reason, she thought, if they all reacted disrespectfully towards him like this Jeb just did. Years ago she had asked her father if she herself could change or if it was only something he could do as ruler of Hell. He said it went with his title. She had been disappointed; she would have loved being a bird or a butterfly.
His amplified voice resonating throughout the room, Dreico pointed a clawed finger in Jeb’s direction, “You have just signed your own fate, boy; from now on until the end of time you will stoke the fires of Hell with your own bare hands and every second and every day you will feel your victims’ pain and fear tenfold! You must never stop working, never! If you do, I will make sure that what you’ve done so far is nothing compared to what you will feel next.” He closed his fingers into a fist and Jeb erupted into flames and disappeared.
Immediately, Tya’s father returned to his original appearance. He suddenly realised Tya was in the room and he hurriedly walked over to her. “Tya, honey, are you alright?” He inspected her eyes quickly, held her by the shoulders while doing a quick look-over.
Tya’s smile was strained from the pain in her head. “I’m alright Papa, I have a question for you.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You seem . . . almost peaceful, child. Have the voices left you?”
“No, I’m keeping them temporarily at bay. That is what my question is about; do you think it would be possible to create a pond or well of some sort?”
“What ever for?”
“I was thinking that maybe if I could transfer the voices to the pond then maybe it would be easier to sort out.” She quickly explained her theory to her father. When she was done, he smiled down at her.
“I’m very proud of you Tyanina. Not only did you take up your mother’s place much before the allotted time, you’re finding solutions that can help you.”
Tya’s shoulders slumped. If only she had thought of it before her mother would still be alive!
“Now, Tya, don’t think that way. Your mother gave up a long time ago. She was quite smart and if she had given up on herself, she would have found a way to cope. Besides, until a few weeks ago, you couldn’t know how it was for her, couldn’t have found a solution.”
“But how was it for you if it was so different from Mama?”
He hesitated, searching for an explanation. “Everything was already categorized in my head. I knew who was dying, who was deceased, who required immediate attention. The suicides, the natural deaths, the still-born, everything. When I gave Laileena the power, everything became a jumble, a mess. When she received all those thoughts and emotions, she screamed like you did. I tried to take it back but she refused. She said she wanted to be with me completely, be like me, my equal. Only . . . it was too much for her I guess.”
“But if I’m a product of both of you, why doesn’t my brain work like yours. Why does it mess up like Mama’s?”
“I think, in a way, you are really a by-product of both of us; when Laileena received my power, she screamed non-stop for 6 hours before losing consciousness. You, it was only a few minutes. And whereas your mother endured centuries of thoughts and emotions, it took you only two weeks to find a solution.” He smiled proudly. “I will talk to my brother about your problem and your solution and see if we can come up with a pond or well for you.”
“You think uncle Mineos could help?” She had spent quite some time in the human realm as a child and she had shared with them their hopes and dreams, their fears and beliefs. She had giggled when she had found out how much they fear the one they call Satan. But she had been in awe at how much they believe in their God. The one she called uncle Mineos.
Mineos and Dreico were twins. The oldest of twelve children, born of Merina and Chalko, the creators of the Earth. The twins shared common qualities; a high sense of morality and a great sense of justice. They were both loyal and loved one another deeply and completely. There the resemblances stopped. Whereas Mineos was always gentle, soft-spoken and sweet, Dreico was known to have a mean temper. He’d grown now, much older and wiser but as a child, he’d often be in battles and fights with the other Gods. Oh, not for just any reason; he was always protecting the weaker Gods from the brutes. Mineos’ soft disposition and gentle words often stopped the brutes from striking again but more often than not Dreico would jump in and let his fists and fire do the talking. When Merina and Chalko had had enough of caring for the Earth and its inhabitants, they offered Mineos and Dreico to take their places. Mineos with his gentle ways became King of the Skies, also known as God to the humans. Dreico with his fiery disposition and acute sense of what was right and wrong, always ready to go into battle with the brutes, became King of the Underworld. The brothers were immensely satisfied with their titles and thanked their parents profusely.
What had astonished Tya the most what the humans’ certainty that Satan and God were enemies, locked in a never ending battle for more power. That couldn’t be further from the truth. The brothers loved each other dearly and worked together to care for the humans after their deaths. She understood, of course, that because all sinners went to hell, the ruler of hell was considered the ‘bad guy.’ But Tya knew the truth.
Dreico kissed his daughter on the forehead. “If he can’t, my parents will. They will not want their grand-daughter to suffer; you can take my word for it. Can you keep and eye on things until I get back?”
“Of course, Papa.”
Her father flashed out of the court room and Tya was left alone. She walked out of the room then stopped, looked left, looked right. Her world was composed of two parts. On the left was where all the sinners were kept, working day and night. On the right was her home, shared with her father and the homes of the guardians of the Underworld, of Melvia, her father’s secretary and other close friends. These friends were people Dreico had met during his frequent trips up on Earth and these friends had decided to stay with him down in Hell although they deserved to be in Heaven, as far as myths went.
She turned right and walked slowly home. She didn’t have anything to do but the thought of sleeping a few hours while the voices had quieted had a certain appeal. She quickened her step. She approached the mansion practically at a run. The house was much too big even when Mama was alive; now it seemed much bigger. But her father had insisted on building this home. He said that with so much power generated by the little family, they needed their own space, their own arrangements. Now, at a dead run, Tya made her way up the stairs, to the left and all the way to her bedroom door. She could have flashed herself in, it would have been much faster, but she had wanted the exercise. As she walked in and spotted her bed, her smile of relish turned into a mask of pain. She fell to her knees, gripping her head. A scream of pain escaped her as her hands released her head and instead tried to protect her face as if a fist was coming towards her. Suddenly, images appeared in her head.
When the dizziness somewhat subsided, the young woman with the long black hair glared up at the father of her child and with all the disdain she could muster she said, “Like it or not, you are this baby’s father. This is the last time I will mention it. I don’t want you or your help; I just needed you to know.”
“I warned you,” was all he said before punching her again. She hunched over, trying to protect her baby but his blows were landing everywhere, hard and fast. Moira heard a gasp and she turned her head to the right, and William’s fist connected with her ear. She screeched and tried to press a hand to her burning ear but she couldn’t coordinate her hands, couldn’t get them to lift. Bells resounded in her head as she tried to articulate her next words, “Please . . . Help.” Her voice was hoarse and she didn’t think the woman had heard. “Please help me.” She reached a bloody hand toward the woman, certain that she would not let her suffer any longer. Surely she would stop William? But she didn’t. With one hand pressed to her mouth, she backed up slowly from the alley, her eyes wide and glued to what was left of Moira’s face. This time unconsciousness claimed her without a fight.
Tya gasped. Were the voices coming back? She tried to concentrate to listen above the beating the woman was receiving. No, they weren’t back. Why was she hearing this so clearly, then?
Incredible, unbearable pain woke Moira. A high-pitched screaming sounded into the night, like that of a wounded animal and Moira realised the sound came from her. She cut off the screaming, but began panting instead. What is happening to me? Did he kill me, as promised? Why did I push him so much, she wondered, he could have hurt the baby . . . The baby!”
She was giving birth!
Moira! The woman’s name was Moira! Why was she feeling her pain so keenly? Tya wondered. With incredible insight, Tya realised there must be something unique about this woman and instead of shying away from the pain, she opened up to it, like her mother had taught her, and watched the scene unfold. She saw Moira flinch away from a man she thought to be William coming to finish her off. When she discovered it wasn’t, she begged the man, a beggar man, to help her. The man scooped her up and she fainted as he ran to the Doctor’s.
She watched the doctor and his wife help the young woman. Tya and the doctor were able to understand a bit of the woman’s past during her delirium. Finally Moira expelled the baby and Tya held her breath, her eyes unable to tear away from the baby boy. The boy was glowing, he was radiant. He had a beautiful aura and he was very alert for an infant. The baby didn’t cry when removed from his mother’s womb; instead, he seemed to search around the room until he laid eyes on his mother. Tya entered Moira’s body as the doctor’s wife approached.
The doctor’s wife approached the young mother with the baby.
“It’s a boy,” she whispered softly, unsure she would be understood.
But Moira’s eyes opened, the words had seemed to penetrate her mind. She painstakingly turned on her side and the wife laid the tiny bundle in the woman’s arms. She laid her weary head on her arm and stared at her beautiful baby. Every detail of his tiny face and body was now etched in her memories and a fierce pride came over her. She had gone through hell for him and she felt certain, suddenly, that her tiny son was destined for greatness. Odd, she thought, but she knew it to be true. Now, she needed to find him a name.
“Noah. His name is Noah,” She spoke so softly that the doctor’s wife had to lean in to hear what the young woman had said.
“Noah,” the older woman repeated.
The young mother smiled gratefully, curled her arm tighter around her infant son, glanced at him for the last time, closed her eyes and breathed her last breath.
As her dying breath left her body, her son raised strangely alert eyes to her battered face and let out his first cry.
As Moira died and her soul lingered a few moments over her infant son before departing for the Heavens, Tya gasped and pulled back to her reality. She was still kneeling on her bedroom floor but her hands were on her knees and she was half-raised as if poised to suddenly jump up and run.
Weariness washed over her and she heard the voices in her head pressing closer, eager to be heard. She stumbled to her bed, fell on the soft mattress and before succumbing to a coma-like sleep, she whispered without realising, “Noah. His name is Noah.”
So! Overall impression time.
I love the idea, it seems like an interesting story, but there are a few things to correct. You seem to like repeating yourself over and over, if you tell the reader what is being talked about, then you can describe that 'thing' as it, and such... I also think that sometimes your writing is a little too 'documentary-like' which makes it boring. But overall, I loved it. Sorry it took so long. 
