Remembering Hell
Page 14
We are not who we are in spite of our mistakes. Many of us are who we are because of our mistakes.
Not everyone who offers to lead you has your best interest at heart. Likewise, sometimes people who let you pull yourself out of a bad situation do.
Face all things in life first with love. When you do that, then you will always be making the right decision. Don’t measure love by how much you can take. Measure love by how much you can give. That is unconditional love.
If you find someone willing to go through Hell to be with you, never take them for granted.
And finally, it is okay to fall every once in a while. But just never forget, with enough faith and enough love, you can fly!
THE END
See how it all started.-Enjoy Chapter One of
Awake in Hell:
Chapter One
Waking up in Hell is the worst part of my day. During sleep you can kind of forget where you are — dream about happy places, happier times — other than the heat, the oppressive heat that is always here. Because, what else would Hell be if not hot?
My bed is actually kind of comfortable. Well, more comfortable than anything else here. Sometimes I dream about when I was alive. Nothing major like working out life’s big mysteries, but little moments like having an orgasm, or the look on my best friend Linda’s face whenever I gave her relationship advice (something I am not qualified to do, by the way.) She would look at me with this intent admiration, as if no wisdom could be greater than mine. Dreams are the one thing Hell cannot take away from us. It is as if our creator is giving us one last peace, despite our sins.
My alarm is set to go off exactly one hour before I want to get up. It's a psychic clock. We have a whole different set of tech down here. Regardless, I wake up every morning with that sense of being more exhausted than I was when I went to bed. That's just one of the lovely amenities this place has to offer.
When I say amenities, please hear the facetious nature with which I proclaim such a thing. My “apartment” is about 8 feet by 8 feet. No TV, no phone, no air conditioner (obviously) and one window that does not open. The walls are gray, the floor is bare wood, and nothing is designed with comfort in mind. This is not my sanctuary, where I can escape Hell. It’s my little corner of Hell that I get to call my own. I live in a relatively small building. I think there are about a dozen other tenants here, but we are not what you would call a friendly bunch, so I don’t exactly know my neighbors. I rarely hear any of them. The occasional scream will seep through my walls, but that is pretty much it.
I hit the snooze button (which never works, yet I still try each morning) and I wake yawning and rubbing my sore, dry eyes against the super-heated air. I get dressed quickly, since I have little choice in my closet. It changes from day to day, but today is a prime example of what greets me each morning; a pair of shit-tan hip huggers a size too small (circa 1977) complimented by a blue polyester shirt with a lapel wider than the ass of a waitress at a greasy spoon. Additionally, I have been issued a g-string stained with some unknown substance. I cast it aside. Oh well, in keeping with the glass half-full mantra I've been employing lately, I think to myself, “beats yesterday's five layers of itchy underwear from the Victorian era.” And if, by chance, today’s outfit is worse than yesterday’s, I simply look at the clothing of others and am eventually bound to see some poor soul clearly worse off than myself. Indeed, as I look out my window right now, I spot someone across the street in an Eskimo coat and wool sweat pants. Who says the Devil doesn’t have a sense of humor?
Ah, but it gets worse. Aside from the tortuous togs I must don for the day, there are other truths to face. One immediate concern — I need a job. I was fired three days ago from the job I've held ever since I found myself here. I can’t say exactly when that was because there is no way to keep track of time in Hell. Although it is possible to make tally marks on the wall (one for every time you wake up) it seems futile and a bit of an annoyance. Things change down here all the time, with little or no warning. Like, for instance, my employment status.
I was in tech support at the IP&FW (Internet Porn and Fetish Web). See, we have high speed Internet down here but every search leads right to IP&FW. If you search for your grandmother's recipe for chocolate zucchini cake, you arrive at a site where naked girls sit and squirm on your granny's favorite dessert. If you attempt to look up your favorite football team, you land on overweight gay romance. Oh, and if this would have ever turned you on when you were alive, it will not down here. For instance if you search “hot lesbian sex,” you’ll be taken to images and videos of disfigured lesbians literally on fire, attempting to have sex. What can I say? This is Hell. I spent every day at a call center listening to newcomers bitch about not being able to follow their favorite sports teams or download a single Miley Cyrus mp3 from their computers. Then one day, I got a call from a gentleman who claimed that he couldn't get online at all. I asked him if he'd reset his modem and he didn't seem to know what I was talking about. I then asked him if he'd had Internet when he was breathing and he claimed that no, he was unable to get Internet access when he was among the living due to the fact that he lived in the woods and eschewed technology while he was alive. I pondered why he might want Internet now when he had gone so long without it. I imagined maybe he had more to entertain himself when he was alive; like HBO or masturbation. He claimed to have spent his entire welfare check every month on baked beans and guns. Oh, and the occasional purchase of lye and burlap bags for body disposal. Anyway, to make a long story short, I told him that he will occasionally have to reset his modem by unplugging it, waiting 30 seconds and plugging it back in — simple right? EVERYBODY knows that — right?
Well, he didn't and I told him exactly what to do step-by-step, which constitutes being helpful. Being helpful in tech support at IP&FW is in direct opposition to their primary directive, which is an immediate terminable offense. Fuck IP & fucking FW. How was I supposed to know that I was talking to the ONLY person in the entire Hell-verse that would find the resetting-the-modem spiel actually helpful?
So, now I have to find another job.
Here, there are no social services. You work for any of the small cottage businesses that pop up all the time, or you work for IP&FW, or you get stuck working for one of the big chain stores or a law firm. If you turn out to be totally unemployable, then you go work for the government. I would assume, the government of Hell is run by SATAN. I would assume, although I can’t say that I’ve ever met the guy personally. Trust me, no one goes to work for the government on purpose. With that in mind, I hit the streets telling myself I won't go home until I have secured employment somewhere.
I walk out and immediately have to adjust to the outside environment. Hell was created (I assume it was created at some point, as opposed to just sprouting up after the Fall) to look like any old city; it has standard grid streets, homeless people, tall buildings that seem to go up forever. There are a few random smaller buildings in between that seem to say the city was built up around them, although, I think that is just part of the illusion. I mean, do you think Hell used to be a much nicer neighborhood with rising property values? No, me neither. There’s an orange color to the atmosphere, like ambient light, making everything seem as if it’s about to catch fire but never does. This is accompanied by the smell of phosphorous, like someone behind you has just struck a match. All of this seems to magnify the hot and make it even hotter. People behave here just like they do in any city of the living, rushing around like they are late to something really important. The sidewalks and streets are worn and cracked and filled with potholes, but still usable. Every once in a while there will be a repair crew out to fix one, but I don’t think it’s to improve our infrastructure. I think it’s because laying tar on a street, in temperatures close to 200 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade, sounds like a perfect job for someone in Hell. There is no sky here. If you try to seek the heavens, whatever it is up there will burn your eyes, and you will be blinded for
a few minutes, like with a camera flash.
So, you have to be on your toes if you're going to stroll around in Hell.
There are three coffee shops within walking distance from my apartment. One makes weak, watery coffee strained through dirty socks, one makes strong, bitter coffee strained through dirty socks, and the last claims to be “organic”. The populace believes that they are serving the waste produced by people drinking the stuff at the other two shops. I'll need my caffeine boost today so I go for the strong, bitter choice. I walk past the hoard of beggars. Believe it or not the beggars are actually employed by the government to stand outside and beg from folks sent to Hell. It's one of the more dead-end jobs you can have around here, no pun intended. I step inside and walk up to the counter. I'm third or fourth in line so I look at the bulletin board next to the cash register while I wait and see if any jobs are posted. They have the usual job fair notices from the chain stores, one from (grrrrr) IP&FW, and a help-wanted sign for the coffee shop itself. So, I take a look behind the counter — could I do that for 12 to 14 hours a day? I shrug and commit to asking for an application when I get up there. Then I notice a small piece of paper tacked way up on the corner of the board. I can't really read it until I reach up and take it down. Then I see:
DO YOU BELONG HERE?
CALL US TO FIND OUT!
SECOND CHANCE TEMP AGENCY
(666)-573-2236
I look around and when I'm sure no one has noticed, I stick the note in my pocket.
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AFTERWORD
The Parable of the Little Bird…
Once there was a little bird that did not fly south for the winter. She was so happy with that decision that she sat on her branch singing a happy tune. It got so cold, the bird froze and fell to the ground in a large field. While she was lying there, a cow came by and said, “Poor little bird.” Then turned around and dropped a cow pie on her. She was very surprised, but was also suddenly very warm. So she began to sing a happy tune.
A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung. “Poor little bird,” the cat said and promptly dug her out, cleaned off every single feather, then opened up his mouth and ate her in one gulp!
The moral of the story is:
Not everyone who shits on you is your enemy.
Not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend.
And when you're in deep shit, but you are warm? Sing a happy tune!
Yes, it’s another Hell story. Much to my own surprise. I thought after I had written Awake In Hell that I was done with Louise. I had told her story of redemption and forgiveness, and she ended up in Heaven, so what else was left?
Turns out she had a few more lessons to learn, as did I. I am still learning to let go and allow others to take their own path. This is especially true for my children, who are just starting to dip their toes into the pool of life. However, I am also still learning from my own parents, which is kind of depressing since I am officially middle-aged and should be wise by now, right? I am also a newlywed at this age, and I am learning how to love in a lot of ways for the very first time. Congratulations to everyone who got it right from the beginning, but for me I have to say, there is something to be said for making that commitment at this stage of life. With all the experiences, the life lessons, and even the baggage that you bring to a relationship, it guarantees that you will never stop learning from one another!
So I wanted to say Thank You for coming back for more Louise, more Gabby, more Deedy, and welcoming with open arms all the new guys. I hope whatever you saw in Awake In Hell, you are also able to see in this.
I also wanted to say Thank You to everyone who has been so great to me since this journey began four years ago. I was so broken, and I wrote to heal my own heart and soul and find a path to forgiveness. But so many of you have written, sent messages on Facebook, wrote reviews on Amazon, or have come up to me to tell me in person that you were also touched in some way by these books, and for that I will always be grateful.
I sincerely hope that each and every one of you are happier today than you were yesterday. And I hope all your tomorrows are wonderful!
Thank you, and Deedy Bless!
-Helen
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Helen Downing likes to describe herself as a trophy wife, a bit of a diva, and of course Author of her own destiny! In reality, she's a chubby, middle-aged wife and mother of two who is addicted to BBC Television and social networking.
Please buy this book. It's her only chance of ever fulfilling her full potential, and possibly getting into heaven.
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