Hell's Gatekeeper (Chapter 1)

You know the expression, “Go to hell”? And how people say it out of anger or as a joke? How hell is considered a place that is horrible?

If anyone actually knew what Hell is like, if they’d been there, they wouldn’t tell someone to go there. Not unless, of course, they really did want them to go there. But still, not just anyone can get into Hell. It’s not just a holiday island you go to for the weekend or something.

Now, you’re all wondering how I know all this, aren’t you? I suppose, even if I did tell you, you’d think I’m joking. Or maybe you’d believe me. Either way, I’m right.

Why?

Because I’m the Gatekeeper of Hell.

I like my backstory. And to any ordinary person, that would sound strange. Psychotic, even. I mean it’s not as though I had a great life. It was horrible actually. But that is a valid reason as to why I gave it up and become the Gatekeeper of Hell.

My life now is much better. I’ve met more people than I ever would have in under a thousand years. But I think that’s the only problem with being the Gatekeeper. I never age. I’ve had this job for nine hundred and ninety nine years, and this year, on my birthday, it’ll be one thousand. I’m kind of excited, but also not.

I want to go back to the human world.

There, I’ve said it. I want to go back to the human world and live a human life with humans around me that are alive and sane. Though I do suppose that after five hundred years you sort of get bored of your job. And I never started off as the Gatekeeper. At first I was the one that welcomed every soul into Hell, then I was the one that rowed the souls in. Satan saw my potential, and got me appointed as the Gatekeeper. And for the next seven hundred years or so, I became their ‘best’ Gatekeeper in over a thousand years.

But I finally realised that being the Gatekeeper has its perks. I can go wherever I want in any world. Of course, the heavens are an exception, but I’ve been invited there many times by the Gods and Goddesses. They find me an amusing character. That in itself is funny. But when I go to Earth, I’m merely a shadow, and if I touch someone, I cause him or her bad thoughts. I don’t like that. And when they’re sleeping, and I touch him or her, they’ll have nightmares.

So you see, I just want to be able to go around and not cause pain and trouble.

My boots click on the marble floor as I glide down the corridor. The servant souls – the people that were really cruel in life – cringe and shrink back as I walk past. On a normal day they wouldn’t, and on a normal day that would bother me. But not today. Today is the day before I turn one thousand, and I want something to do. In simpler words, I want a holiday. A break. Time off my job.

I step up to the massive marble double-doors and pause. I take a deep breath of the cold, dry air, and place my hands on the door handles.

This is it. This is my only chance before I have to start work. If I don’t ask now, I won’t have the chance to for another thousand years.

I push the doors open with all my might and storm in. Satan spins around and smiles at me, but he knows I’m not here for him. Most people assume that Satan is the guy that runs Hell. Some people believe it to be Hades. Some think it to be Osiris or his son, Horus or Seth, Osiris’s brother. Some may think the ‘ruler’ is a God himself. What no one expected was that the real ruler of Hell is, in fact, Isis, Osiris’s wife. And she may seem like a lovely lady – she is, don’t get me wrong – but when she’s angry, she really gives the phrase, “Burn in Hell” it’s meaning.

I walk down a small corridor until I reach Isis’s rooms. White, satin curtains move out of my way, as if stirred by a faint breeze, and a woman with long, flowing black hair in white robes spins around.

“Ah, Cleo, just the girl of Hell I wanted to see,” Isis drawls, her soft voice like honey. She has sharp, but pretty features, and brown eyes so dark they appear black. Her black hair is styled deliciously so it falls down her back in waves, ending just above her hip. To a mortal, she would be breathtaking. To me, typical Isis and her fashion.

“Of course I am,” I quip. I’m the only one Isis will allow to speak to her like that because we’re from the same nationality.

I was going to be Queen Cleopatra the second of Egypt. No one really knew about me, but I became the Gatekeeper before I had the chance to rise to the throne after my mother – yeah you guessed it, Queen Cleopatra the first – killed herself. So, Isis, an Egyptian Goddess, tolerates me.

“Now, now. You don’t know what I’m going to annoy you with today,” Isis smiles at me, pearly white teeth flashing in the orange glow from the fireplace.

I sigh and lean on one leg, hand on a hip. “Go on then. You have my …” I trail off to watch a servant soul go past. “… Undivided attention.”

Isis rolls her eyes. “I want you to see Horus. There are some more humans that need to be brought to Hell. That infuriating Zeus of the heavens wants to claim them as good, but we’ve reached an agreement that only the Gatekeeper can decide,” she says.

I gulp. I hate it when things like this happen: when I’m put in the spotlight and they expect me to go in their favour. Of course it’s me. The heavens allow any soul in. It’s just Hell that has a Gatekeeper. And I’m also neutral when it comes to deciding who has a place in Hell or not. I mean, Isis would just bring in anyone, Satan wouldn’t let anyone in, and Hades would have them do tests. I just look at what they did and who they are, and judge from there.

“Sure,” I squeak.

Isis smiles and spins around to face her window overlooking the burning gardens of Hell. When you get over the screaming and the heat, it’s actually quite a beautiful place to be. And of course, being a person of Hell, you learn to get over those things easily and quickly.

Another fake breeze ruffles our hair, and I’m suddenly reminded as to why I’m here. Isis senses my thought and spins back around to look at me.

“You have a question?” She raises an elegant, black eyebrow.

“A request, actually,” I correct.

Isis moves to her throne and sits. She waves her hand in amusement, waiting for me to continue.

“Well, as tomorrow I’ll be one thousand, I was thinking … maybe I could be able to travel the Earth in a solid form, and not cause such misery and pain whenever I touch someone,” I blurt out.

Isis considers me and smiles widely. “Why, my dear, you should have come to me earlier about this. Of course,” she says. That was too easy. There must be a catch. “You must get at least one of those people into Hell, though, otherwise I can’t allow that,” she says.

I let out my breath. It could have been worse. “Oh yes. At least one. I can get that,” I say with relief.

“Good. Now go see Horus and then back to your post. Those souls will be flying in soon,” Isis waves me away. To anyone else that could be quite offensive, but I know it means she’s impressed with me. A strange way of showing it, I know, but it is Isis after all.

I leave Isis’s chambers and make my way to the Seeing Room. Horus isn’t there yet, so I walk over to the pool and trail my fingers in the mist. To the untrained eye, it looks like smoke, but I know it’s just dry ice in water. A lame trick picked up from the humans of Earth, because real smoke hurt our eyes and didn’t work as well.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is there a beautiful flower sitting by my Pool?” Horus asks as he enters the room. I look up at the handsome man with scruffy black hair and bright, blue eyes. his features remind me of an Egyptian prince, gorgeous and sculpted perfectly. His bare chest is muscular and broad, gold armbands favouring his golden skin tone. Around his waist sits a blue and white skirt, embroidered with gold stitching, and light grey leggins just above his knees.

I get up and brush off my skirts. “Yes,” I retort quickly. “Your eyes deceive you. I’m no flower, nor is this your pool.”

“You didn’t deny that you’re beautiful though,” he says, strolling over to me.

I really hate Isis right now.

“Why deny the truth?” I snap. I try to act cold and reserved around Horus so as not to stroke his ego. But it doesn’t help that he’s trying to stroke mine.

“Come on kitty, don’t bite,” Horus stands in front of me, the Seeing Pool between us. Smart boy.

“No, just growling. Do you want kitty to bite? Because if you poke her, she will,” I growl.

Horus sighs and smiles at the pool. “When will you get over it and admit you love me?” He asks.

“Never. Because I don’t,” I snarl.

He just shrugs. “Isis told you to come see me didn’t she? Well, there are only seven people –”

“Only seven.”

“– In question. They haven’t died just yet, but the debate has been going for quite some time as to where they should go. Personally, I think they should decide where they want to end up themselves,” he continues, as though I’d never cut in.

And that’s why Horus won’t be taking over from his mother.

“Okay. So, show me before I have to go,” I say, watching the mist in the Pool.

It is whipped away, and I look into the creamy water of the Seeing Pool. Several faces appear, and as I look into each set of eyes, I’m blasted by images of their lives, who they are and what they did. The last person, though, catches my attention most.

He’s seventeen, and he’s been in and out of juvenile detention centres since the age of ten. Even at five he was a troublemaker. This originated from the death of his mother, whom I know to be in the heavens. He is back in the centre, and he’s close to committing suicide. I don’t blame him, after a life like that.

“So?” Horus asks.

“Interesting. But I can only judge them fairly when they die and turn up to the Gates for judgement,” I say, looking up.

Horus nods. “You think at least one will make it in?” He asks.

I look back at the faces and nod. They all have the potential, and always, when this happens, at least one soul is accepted into Hell, and on several occasions, only because they begged and pleaded to spare another’s soul. These souls I personally attend to.

There are chimes all through out the rooms and chambers, and I know the first lot of souls will be arriving. I say goodbye to Horus and leave. I can feel his blue eyes on my back the whole time, and as soon as the doors are closed, I allow myself to shudder. I quickly run to my rooms to change into pants and get my jacket, and then step up to the portal.

One working day later …

“Why should you be let into Hell?” I ask.

This soul is a murderer, finally put out of her misery after an inmate killed her. She killed four of her own children, plus many more of other women’s babies. I don’t like child murderers one bit, but I have to deal with them anyway.

“I shouldn’t,” I can almost quote the words as she speaks, I’ve heard the same lines that many times. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You do realise I can see everything you’ve ever done, right?” I raise an eyebrow.

She baulks. “Oh … well, I don’t want to go to Hell. Please don’t make me go there!” She wails.

I put a hand to my ear. “You know as well as I do that that is where you belong. I hate souls like you, but it wouldn’t be fair on the Gods and Goddesses of the heavens to put up with your aura,” I snap.

“Who are you to judge me?” The soul growls.

I hate it when they say that. “Who am I? I am the Gatekeeper of Hell. I decide whether you go to Hell or the heavens. And you’re trying my patience. Now, get going. I think you’ve proven that you belong in Hell,” I retort.

The soul is pushed past me by a strong wind, and through the golden gates I stand in front of.

The next soul is a boy of four, who has just died from a disease.

“Am I going to Hell?” He asks in a small, scared voice.

I bend down and smile at him, ruffling his hair. “Only if you want to,” I tell him. “Do you want to?”

He shakes his head. “I want to go visit Daddy. Do you know him?” The boy asks.

I nod. “Yes. He is where you belong. Go to the skies now, child. You need not fear, for you are a kind soul.”

The boy smiles and hugs me. The first time someone has voluntarily touched me with affection. I hug him back briefly, and he floats up into the skies, becoming a silver light. It’s always beautiful to watch them rise.

“Why should I go to Hell? I don’t know, but if these are the kinds of ladies there, then yes please for me!” A male voice says.

I look at the next soul that is strolling over to me. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, and is made for mischief. His life has just been as a tease to the ladies, and he died in a car accident when someone went postal and drove off the road, hitting him as he was walking home from a party one night.

“It isn’t a nice place, you know,” I warn.

“Will you be there?” He counters.

“Take a guess. You do know I can go wherever I want, right?” I raise an eyebrow.

He smiles and rubs his hands together. “That’s brilliant –”

“Oh don’t go there!” I yell. “Go on, away you go. You’re much too innocent for Hell.”

The young man rises with a slight protest, and I sigh. That’s the days’ work. The other souls of the day will want to hang around their bodies or loved ones before coming here. And of the five hundred thousand and seventy, only two hundred and fifty thousand souls made it into Hell. The rest were the good ones. Now that my day is over, I can go back, rest, and begin my day on Earth.

And of those seven people in question, only three got to go to the heavens. But the boy I was interested in most hasn’t died yet. He seems to be clinging to life with more strength than any other I’ve ever seen. This could be something quite interesting.

As I walk back to my rooms, I get a summon from Isis. With a groan, I change direction and walk to Isis’s chambers. When I arrive, she’s standing there with a huge smile on her face. Beside her there is a new soul, and from the look on her face, I’d say Isis has something in store for her.

“Cleo, dear, have you met our newest soul?” She asks.

I roll my eyes. I study the soul and recognise her instantly. She’s here in exchange for her brother’s soul. She never did anything wrong except … well, she did accidentally kill someone, which is the cause for her own death.

“Isis, I know every damned soul that comes through my Gates,” I retort.

“Yes, but this soul is different,” Isis insists. “She’s the sister of the boy I want. The one that will commit suicide.”

“I know,” I growl. “I know everything about every soul to have come to the Gates. Isis, what do you want?”

The soul beside Isis blinks in astonishment. No doubt she’d never have thought anyone would be able to speak the ruler of Hell in such manner. Sometimes I can’t believe she lets me get away with it myself.

“Get to know her, is all,” Isis says, and waves me away. This time I’m offended. Clearly she didn’t like being undermined in front of a soul, especially a soul such as this one. The souls that sacrifice themselves for others are called Brave Souls. Well, it’s what I call them anyway. A soul that knows what they did wrong and are sincere about it are Right Souls. And the soul that really does deserve to be in Hell, but tries to deny it, is called a Lesser Soul. But to everyone else in Hell, they’re all Just Souls.

I’m the only one that actually takes care of the souls and makes sure they don’t disappear from the human realm. When a person is forgotten after their death, their soul turns to dust, and can never be revived again. Every soul has the ability to be reincarnated. Mostly those that are in the heavens though, but once again, being the Gatekeeper, I’m the only one that can say who leaves Hell or the Heavens to be reincarnated.

I beacon the soul over and she follows on soft feet. Every soul that comes here has no real form. Sure they have the shape they had when they were alive, but there are no real features to show that. It’s just their faces that distinguish one soul from another. And this soul is definitely different from any of the souls I’ve ever seen.

“What’s it like?” I ask as we walk away from Isis’s chambers.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“The world above? What’s it like?” I’ve never asked this question before, but I want to hear what a soul says.

“Horrible.” Didn’t expect that. “I hated it. Everyone there treats you horribly, and you have to be someone else to fit in. Someone everyone else wants you to be. Very few people are happy with their lives, and I certainly wasn’t one of them.”

I look away. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean –”

She looks at me, totally aghast. “No I didn’t mean it like that! I just thought that, you know, since you asked, you’d want a truthful answer. I didn’t mean to make you upset,” she says.

I put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s ok. I just didn’t expect an answer like that, that’s all. It’s just that … well I haven’t been to the human world for nearly one thousand years, and tomorrow I’m going there for a while, like a holiday,” I tell her.

She chuckles. “You’d last longer than I would. You deal with cruelty every day. I suppose it is like a holiday for you.”

I smile at her. “Hell isn’t that bad. It’s horrible for those that are really meant to be here, and try to say otherwise. Once you get over the shock … and the heat, you learn to love the place. And if you prove yourself, you can go back.”

“I don’t ever want to go back,” she says. “But if Hell isn’t as bad as you say, then I don’t mind it here. And it isn’t that hot,” she says, holding an arm out to prove her point.

“That’s because you’re in Isis’ Castle. When you go outside you really feel the heat.”

“So you mean … this isn’t really what Hell’s like?” She gives me a curious look.

“This is just a building in Hell. It is hot, and the screams are horrifying, but it’s a nice place overall. I wouldn’t recommend it to someone for a holiday though. Because once you’re here, you can never leave. And … well, you’ll be fine here.”

A Brave Soul that comes here doesn’t feel much of the heat and sorrow they should. And once you’ve been here for a while, you tend to get over the frightening things about Hell. That’s why I can say it’s a nice place, but to anyone else, it’s … well, hell.

We reach a room with vegetation, and many other souls around. I let the soul in, but before she disappears, I grab her arm.

“I know everything about every soul I’ve seen and looked at. But your brother … he’s different. He’s clinging to life with more strength than I’ve ever seen. And I don’t know why. Do you?” I ask her quickly.

She nods. “It’s because he has no purpose in life, but he is curious. Curiosity is what got him into the messes he's in. He has a curiosity that won’t kill him,” she looks around, as though someone may over hear her. She leans closer to whisper into my ear, “He needs a girl in his life to live for, and then he’ll be free.”

And just like that, she’s gone. Ok, now different is an understatement. This is an Old Soul. She knows what she’s talking about. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was once someone smart, like Einstein or something. And she sure as hell knows how to make my hairs stand on end.

“Another Brave Soul?” Hades asks behind me.

I jump. To recover, I spin around and smile. “Yeah. She’s the sister of the last boy Isis wants,” I tell him.

He studies me. Hades isn’t stupid. He’s the smartest of the Gods of the Hell. He knows how to spot fear or unease with a quick glance. After all, it is his specialty.

Hades is tall with curly, black hair atop his head and a frizzy beard. He has opaque eyes that seem to look through you, and a broad face with flawless features. Hades doesn't strike you as a kind man at first, more of an evil, "I will burn the skin from your body!" kind of guy. But deep down, Hades is a real sweetheart, made so by his wife, Persephone.

“Speaking of which, Isis says to give you this. Get some sleep, and then go to the portal to Earth. Make sure you drink this before you go through the portal,” he says, handing me a small, black vial. He moves closer. “I added a little something to make you visible whenever you go to Earth. I know how much you hate being unseen, so here’s your wish,” he whispers.

I take the vial. “Thanks Hades. If Isis were to find out –”

“She doesn’t care. She gives me full control of the potion making. She just wants you back in three human weeks,” Hades says. He smiles and pats my back. “Now go. And make sure you take the potion before you go through the portal, or you’ll never be able to come back here, unless you died.”

I nod and leave. I walk with heavier steps than usual. The Gods and Goddesses of the underworld never tire. Nor do the souls. But I do. Why?

Because I never died.