Clipped Wings

by J. P. Rice

  “Purgatorio,” Charon enunciated, stressing every syllable.

  I waited for him to continue, but he left it at that. The people walked around like zombies, looking up at the dark sky. This had to be limbo. Most people thought this was the first circle of hell, so I understood the eight levels now.

  The people were gaunt and looked sickly with red patches all over their exposed arms, legs and faces. A herd had gathered around the first gate in front of the castle. The desperate souls were trying to gain entry, but the gate never opened.

  “That is limbo.” Charon pointed with his oar as he continued speaking, “There are Socrates, Aristotle, Homer and Ovid.”

  I loved those writers and philosophers. They didn’t seem morally reprehensible. “Why would they be cast into limbo?”

  Charon’s twiggy arm stuck out of his cloak as he started to paddle again. For someone who spent all day, every day on physical activity, he was a serious beanpole. He shrugged his shoulders and spoke rhetorically, “Who knows? Pissed off their Gods? Made Hades angry? Lost a bet? It’s hard to say.”

  Artoise asked, “So they are there forever?”

  Charon explained, “No. The Gods can come down and take anyone from limbo to heaven. They can also send the souls back down to limbo if they so choose. These souls couldn’t gain entry into hell, but they were also rejected by the heavens.”

  “Why are they so skinny and gross looking?” the words just sprang from my mouth without thinking.

  An evil smile developed on Charon’s thin lips. “Food is scarce in limbo. They are constantly searching for food or a way to get out of here. Forever restless.”

  The river turned left and a hundred yards later, bent to the right. We neared the confluence of Styx and Acheron and the rapids picked up. I could hear wild screaming and yelling in the distance. We plunged over a small waterfall and the front of the boat dipped into the water.

  I grabbed onto the sides to avoid being thrown in as we moved into a fog sitting on the water. Artoise clung to my robes with both his hands. The boat rocked back and forth, Artoise threatening to drag me into the funky water. Charon shifted his weight to compensate for Artoise and the boat finally straightened. Artoise released his grip and I let out a sigh of relief.

  Our boat headed straight toward the venomous opening in the mountain. As we neared the entrance, the feral cries died down and then stopped. Words had been carved above the cave entrance. I squinted through the fog to read them.

  “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

  Well, Dante had that part right.

  We entered the watery canal lit by torches hanging from the walls. As we continued, the waterway widened, and flat banks of land appeared on each side of the water. We floated on for about two minutes before a shadowy figure appeared.

  Charon used the paddle as a rudder to force the boat to the right, causing it to coast to a stop right in front of a demonic creature in a rocking chair. The hybrid human and octopus had long gray hair, wore a crown crafted from seaweed and silver filigree atop his head. He fingered his voluminous beard as he stared at me with glowing yellow eyes.

  Below the waist, he had the anatomy of an octopus, tentacles slithering around and helping him rock rhythmically in the chair. He smiled, but the evilness of his yellow eyes and lack of teeth in his mouth didn’t make me feel at home.

  “What have we here?” the crowned man asked in a welcoming tone.

  Charon spoke in a deeper voice, “King Minos, we have two souls seeking to gain entry.”

  “Who dareth seek passage?” Minos asked, smiling and leaning forward in his rocking chair.

  “These two souls right here,” Charon announced as he pointed at Artoise and me.

  His yellow eyes landed on me. He looked me down and up. Down and up. It was making me uncomfortable as I wasn’t sure what he was inspecting. His eyes steadied on my face. “Your tongue. Stick it out.”

  Not sure what he wanted to see, I slowly stuck out my tongue and a ray of sunshine sprang from my mouth.

  His yellow eyes widened and his silver hair and beard absorbed the gold glow coming from my mouth. “The coin. This one has it.” He moved his attention to Artoise who was sweating like a whore in church.

  Minos eyeballed my guardian angel in the same creepy manner he had used on me. After the lengthy inspection, he said, “Let me see your tongue.”

  Artoise stuck out his long skinny tongue and a silver coin appeared on it. Minos announced, “This one may pass as well.” He sounded disappointed, as if he wanted someone to stay and hang out with him.

  Charon bowed his head. “A great thank you, King Minos.”

  Minos nodded as he rocked in his chair. Charon used the oar to dig out our docked boat and get it back on the water. As soon as we were outside earshot of Minos, Charon said, “The old man is losing it. He used to determine what level of hell each soul would go to. Now we do it on a level to level basis. There is no grand judgment anymore.”

  We continued down the dark canal and a big open area came into view. Charon guided the boat up to a wooden dock with a group of beings sitting around drinking.

  “What is that?” I asked, pointing at the people.

  “That is the bar,” Charon said, pointing for clarification. “These souls have gained entry, but haven’t started their quest in hell. Some prefer to calm the nerves before entering.”

  I peeked over and noticed Artoise staring at the bar, basically salivating. Ignoring him, I asked, “Where do we enter?”

  Charon pointed to a small, dark opening in the wall near the end of the bar. “Right there. Have a drink or two if you would like. Or start your journey now. This will be the last time we see each other. Unless you somehow make it out of here. Best of luck.”

  We disembarked and had officially landed in hell. Charon buried the oar into the water and shoved off again. His boat looped around the bar and I assumed it took him back to Styx. The bar, if you could call it that, was dingy, grungy and nothing more than some chairs and tables.

  The bar itself had been set up on a long rectangular table. Unmarked bottles and small barrels of wine covered the top of the table. It wasn’t very appealing.

  I turned to Artoise to see if he was ready to begin our perilous journey, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth. He wasn’t quite drooling. Yet.

  It gave me an idea. I wasn’t too fired up about coming here with Artoise anyway. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy you wanted to go into battle with. His best attribute as my guardian angel was that he could stop time when he visited me on earth.

  Without that power, I couldn’t see what use he would serve on this trip. If anything, he would probably slow me down because I’d be constantly worrying about him.

  As he stared with wide eyes at the colonnade of booze bottles, I said, “You know, if you just wanted to stay here while I go inside, that would be all right.”

  He shook his head and waved his hands in front of his chest. “I can’t do that. You might need me down there. The Gods sent me to help you. If they find out I left you at the entrance, they’ll never let me return to earth.”

  I knew he just needed a touch of encouragement. A little push. “I’m not going to tell them anything about you that will cast you in a bad light. You came here with me, and I know you didn’t want to. This stuff isn’t exactly your forte.”

  He looked back and forth, a spark running through his eyes. “But you don’t have your magic down here. Are you sure you aren’t going to need me?”

  I’d almost forgotten about that warning. The Gods had informed me that a soul with substance couldn’t use magic. “I’ll be just fine. Go show these lightweights how a real Frenchman drinks.”

  His lips curved up and a slow smile developed on his face. He bobbed his head around, and said, “I mean, if you don’t mind. I’m trying to go clean, but this is an offer I just can’t refuse. Merci beaucoup, Micheal. Merci beaucoup.” He bowed in a grandiose fashion with a flourish of theat
rical hand movements.

  Before I could say anything, he turned toward the bar, and with a skip in his step, he hightailed it toward the booze table. I headed for the small opening to hell and noticed a shadow dancing on the wall. As I looked again, I realized it was Darkwing, my disappearing and suddenly reappearing shadow hound.

  The canine jumped into the opening as if to say, “Don’t be scared.”

  Chapter 5

  I squeezed through the opening and entered a tunnel. Working with only a tiny pinprick of light, I ran into a wall. Reaching out with my arms, I could feel the warm smooth stone on either side. I traced my hands over the walls as I navigated forward, eventually coming to a dead end.

  The wall in front of me felt like wood as I smoothed my palm over the surface. Couldn’t hurt to knock, right? I pounded my fist against the wall and it echoed down the narrow passageway.

  I heard a voice on the other side say, “Fuckin’ finally. I’m starving.”

  The door slid open horizontally and a figure appeared in the entrance. The bright firelight behind him revealed a beastly creature. The reddish being had two horns coming from the top of his balding head of thin gray hair. The being wore a dark blue velour tracksuit. He had an enormous nose, a long goatee and mustache, jagged fangs and razor-sharp claws. Even with all that, the thing I noticed the most was how tired he appeared. Tired or high. Or both.

  He stared at my empty hands, blinking steadily and said, “You’re not the fuckin’ pizza guy. Fuck. His tip just went to shit. Did you see him out there? They always get lost.”

  I said, “I’m not sure what the pizza guy looks like.”

  “He looks like a fucking guy holding a pizza. Did you see anyone like that?” The demon spoke pretentiously, like Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons.

  I clarified, “I didn’t see any pizza delivery guys or girls around here.”

  “Aahh, fuck. All right. Let’s do this.” He spoke in an annoyed monotone, “My name is Belphegor. Follow me.”

  He zipped his velour jacket to just above his big belly, turned and started down the circular path. We walked around the spiral rotunda, getting lower into hell. As we rounded another level, we came to an open area off to the side of the circle.

  I couldn’t understand it. It was like a 3-D movie screen was right in front of us, but it was real. I stared ahead at the slope of a mountain covered in green grass. How could there be a mountain underground?

  Men and women in suits were trying to push huge boulders up the hill, but nobody was having great success. Several of them were arguing with each other, pointing their fingers in each other’s faces. As I looked closer, I recognized these people.

  I didn’t know their names off the top of my head, but they were politicians from the United States. Republicans, democrats and independent senators were trying to get their boulder up the hill. There were both men and women and I got the impression hell didn’t discriminate or play partisan politics. Equal opportunity for all wrongdoers.

  “Do you recognize those two?” He pointed at a man and woman dressed in high fashion.

  It was a fashion from hundreds of years ago, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Not exactly,” I responded.

  “Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. The two figures that embody greed more than any other. Although she never actually said, let them eat cake, the sentiment was there.”

  The couple was arguing with each other in French, so I wasn’t sure what they were saying but it was coming out in angry tones.

  As I stared at the strange scene, I asked, “Why are they trying to push those boulders up the hill?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. Greed is a sin that most people are familiar with. Some in small doses and others can’t control themselves. Once a soul is bitten by the greed bug, it can stick with you for eternity. These foolish souls are convinced that if they get their boulder to the top of the hill, they will have their fortunes and possessions returned to them.”

  “Has anyone ever reached the top?”

  He shook his head, his big horns moving from side to side. “Not a single one. Nor will they. It is hard to tell from here, but there is no top to the mountain. It comes to a point so small that none of the boulders will sit flat on it. They would know if they simply ascended the hill and took a quick peek at the peak. Yet, greed can be blinding.”

  Marie Antoinette picked up the balloon skirting of her powder blue dress and walked closer. As she neared the circle, a dog barked at her. Turning completely to my left, I saw him. Cerberus. His three heads snapped at Marie Antoinette causing her to jump back and start walking away.

  Here was my chance. As I tried to figure out the best line of attack, Belphegor yelled, “Good boy.”

  Cerberus barked in acknowledgement, turned and ran down the circle. I took off after the beast, down toward the next circle. The mythical dog ran through a small opening and a door slammed shut, almost trapping one of his three tails in the automatic door.

  Fuck. I went back up the circle to the mountain of greed. Belphegor said, “So you like to chase dogs around?”

  “Not usually. I just need something from that dog.”

  “The only thing you’re bound to get from that dog is rabies or death. I doubt he’s good for eating, although I would take a taste right now. Fuckin’ starving,” he complained, rubbing his stomach.

  I didn’t want to be here anymore than he. “Can we go to the next level now? You can get your pizza much faster that way.”

  Belphegor explained, “We have to follow protocol. No matter what.” He rolled his eyes and went into what sounded like a rehearsed spiel, “Greed is something that every man or woman experiences in life. It is how the person responds to greed that will determine if he is worthy of a stay in hell. Embrace greed and all it entails, and you will be permitted to the next circle.”

  It made sense that the merit for getting into hell was the exact opposite of the attributes needed to gain passage into heaven. It was like an upside-down game I was playing. How terrible were you on earth?

  “So do I make the cut?” I wondered aloud.

  Belphegor stared out at the greedy souls as Marie Antoinette kept creeping closer. “Not yet. Would you care to confess your greed?”

  “Sure. Let’s see.” Perhaps I should have thought about this before right now. “Oohh. I make a lot of money. In fact, the last job I did, I made two million dollars and I only shared twenty thousand with someone who helped me. That was pretty greedy.”

  He waved a finger tipped with a long claw in front of his face. “Except for the fact that a major portion of your money has gone to charity. That isn’t greed.”

  “Okay.” I had to think back to my grungy days before Alayna had saved me from going down a very dark path. I had it. “I used to steal money from the women I had romantic experiences with. I had my own money, but I wanted to use theirs.”

  A woman ran toward us from the base of the hill. She was big and thick, and as she closed in, I recognized her. I couldn’t remember her name, but it was one of the women I’d stolen from. What was she doing here?

  “There’s the man who sent me on a life of crime,” she announced, pointing at me.

  I asked, “How did I send you on a life of crime?”

  “After you stole my credit card, I ran into hard times, so I followed your model. I stole from every guy I slept with after you. I’d snag his wallet before he woke up. Until one of them caught me and beat me to death. Aren’t you proud? I learned it all from you,” she said and lunged at me, grabbing hold of my golden robes.

  Belphegor slapped her hands away and pushed her back toward the mountain. She stared at Belphegor with contempt in her eyes. She looked like she was about to say something, but she simply turned and stormed off toward the base of the hill.

  “Some of our guests can be quite ornery. Watch yourself,” Belphegor warned.

  “So what else do I have to do to get to the next level?”

  “You’ve already p
roven your worth and had it corroborated by one of our guests. Your level of greed isn’t comparable to Marie or Louis, but you can go to the next circle. Right this way.” He held out his hand, gesturing to continue on the corkscrew path heading down.

  I slowed down as I came to the closed door that Cerberus had run through. As I took two more steps forward, the door slid open horizontally. Hmmm. Did not expect hell to have automatic doors. Or a bar for that matter.

  Plunging through the opening, I peeked behind to make sure Belphegor was still there. My hungry tour guide caught up to me and we walked side by side on the wide circular stone path. We looped around a few times and came to another opening like the one for greed.

  The first thing I noticed was the odor of, without sounding crass, shit. The lumpy landscape was all muddy and a storm of icy rain, rotting body parts, feces and rancid blood rained down on the souls stuck in the mud.

  The souls looked like pigs in the mud, stuck there with their arms and legs flailing around, trying to get up out of the slop. I recognized a few people. Henry VIII couldn’t be missed as he was right up front wearing his crown. Next to him was Elvis Presley, whose flailing arms and legs looked like nothing more than a sad dance move considering it was coming from the King of Rock and Roll.

  I noticed one slim person in the slop. He kept rolling around but could never reach his feet. He turned to me with desperation on his face, almost begging me to help him out. Who was this guy? I’d seen him before.

  Oh yeah. It was Joey Chestnut, the hot dog eating champion. It proved that one didn’t have to be overweight to be a glutton.

  From behind, Belphegor said, “Gluttony. My least favorite sin. Especially right now since I am starving. These souls enjoyed food, drink, drugs, whatever was placed in front of them, they consumed in great quantities. To be worthy of this circle of hell, you must confess your gluttony.”

  I tried to think of something, but I was coming up blank. “I usually eat more than I need to. Sometimes a lot more than I need to.”