Hellbound P.3

Hellbound P.3

At least there was no riding the school bus. That was one thing that I had to be grateful for. I arrived there about twenty minutes before my classes for the day were due to start (Maths, Gym, Maths, Gym, Maths and English).

Every eye on the playground was watching me. The ash was blowing across nicely, the fires were as pretty as always. The playground was hemmed in from three sides with the towering redbrick buildings of the school. Every eye was watching the outcast demon, the one that was obviously several centuries older than anyone else in the school.

I wasn’t going to be ever included as one of them. I was part of the adult world; the gulf between the children and me would be almost as wide as demon and human. Even when I was among the humans for several years, I had never felt so alone. At least, when I pretended to be human, I fit in. Among the Cultists, there were many different types of creature making their home there; so much so, I considered renaming it the “Freaks Club”.

But back to more important matters. I went inside, and found the darkened locker room. Along each side of the walls was a locker, about as high as the top of my head. They were not very wide, just a little over a half-foot wide.

I muttered the locker number over to myself (no.667), and found it to be located right in the middle of the hallway.

Typical. Must have been part of the punishment.

A small crowd was looking over me, their black hair covering barely-developed horns; their faces full of newly found blood lust.

The sharp sting of the bell woke them from their fantasies.

Some smartarse nicked my neck, and I could feel a tiny little trickle of blood running down the back of my neck, spoiling the dazzling white robes. It would be obvious that someone had attacked me.

But now was not the time for action. Now was the time to re-learn everything, to feel the pain once more, to listen to idiotic card games being played in the halls, to feel raging hormones mix with the demands of our respective Masters.







Several minutes later, and I was back inside the rooms of my youth. School was nothing that I ever remembered; it was just something that I did to pass the time between chores for my Master and playing with friends.

But this time was different. I had a head start on everyone else, but I still had to remember the basics, such as learning how to dip my claws in the ink to write, without splotches, without tearing the page and making my writing look like crap.

I was trying to make sure the figures in front of me did not try and shatter my soul. I had to make sure that they would not break me down, let those punk kids gloat over their presumed superiority.

Let them gloat. This would only be temporary, at least until they broke my soul, turning me into a slavish shell of my former self, wallowing in my own pity.

VELURIEL!! THOSE EQUATIONS DON’T SOLVE THEMSELVES YOU KNOW!
GET BACK TO WORK!!

Every eye in the class was turned towards me, their growing distain for me becoming more apparent by the moment. About the only good thing to come out of these thoughts, would the amount of Emo I would be able to write when leaving this place.

The bell rung. To me it sounded to be the holler of the dammed, calling my name. It was not a sign of freedom, as the others took it. All it meant to me, was I would be under another set of oppressors.

As I left the room, I looked down the hallway. Bathed in an eerie red light, the light brown walls seemed to close in, despite the emptiness. Everyone else had left the rooms and halls, leaving me so alone.

Not for long.

As soon as I left the classroom, I could feel myself rising upward, feeling the burst of freedom that comes from flying.

SLAM!

The dark green linoleum rushed up to meet me. Facedown I couldn’t see who was slamming me against the floor. I was beginning to feel nostalgic for Eirnin and his wonderful treatment of me.

At least I could kill the bastard.

But there was no way I could kill about twenty demons. I couldn’t even see who they were, all I could see was the floor again, and some nice pretty stars that, for some reason were visible on the floors of Hell. All I could feel were the stings of twenty sets of claws digging themselves into my clothing and I, as they tried to kick me, expressing anger that would one day be directed against the human race.

I never gave them the satisfaction of crying, or yelping. All I could give is the satisfaction that one day, I would become a Master. That was enough for me to let a smile slip out.


I slowly made my way back to class. It would be better to wander the lonely hallways for an hour or so, before returning to my Gym class. This punishment was more than I could bear. Every single splotch of blood was visible. Every scratch, every single bruise was visible. I was taller than these pathetic excuses for demons, I was taller, and I was better in every single way.

Scratch that.

I WAS better than them. Now I am becoming a shadow of my former self, a pathetic shape-shifter who would shapeshift, if it wasn’t for the fact that in Hell, there is nothing to change into.

The ink that I used for class was still out, so I had an excellent chance to write something to express the way I was feeling. Getting out my paper, dipping my claws into it, I decided to write a poem.

“The pain”
© 2004 Veluriel
None of you
Will ever see
How I feel
And the pain I feel.

Stuck in
The deepest part of hell
I feel the pain
And it makes me wish for death.

And I know
I shall never die
I get to wait
For the pain
To make me feel painful

And until my final day
I shall feel pain.

I felt satisfied after writing that poem. No one ever has written a poem that good, and if people ever read it, they would feel my unique pain.

I was starting to feel bad now. I haven’t felt like this since I was a young demon. This had to be part of the punishment. I was beginning to regress to the bad old days of childhood.

It wouldn’t last long. It couldn’t last long, they needed me.

But the bell was ringing again, and soon I would have to go to Gym, despite being out of shape.

Somehow I knew this would be another chance for them to prove their so-called ‘superiority’ over me. Gloat over the fallen demon and let laughter ring through his ears. Let him feel more pain.

I knew my Master was manipulating them. That much hatred to a fellow demon was unnatural.




The time of reckoning had come. I had to face my demons and go to Gym. Some may wonder why demons have gym class. We are immortal, and as such do not need fitness. Of course, the little demons never worked that one out.

It looked the same as pretty much any gym. Ropes from the ceiling, bars that seemed to serve no purpose were hung along the walls, disgusting the peeling white paint (white is such a disgusting colour). There were those pummel horse things, as well as a few weights, and some weird PVC mat things on the floor.





The teacher arrived. She appeared to be a cross between the Master, and an eight-foot tall sack of potatoes. The robes that she wore were slightly shorter than the type worn by most of us (it ended an inch about her clawed foot), and she wore a whistle around her neck. After she blew into it, a sudden pain shot through my head, rather like an arrow.

Before I gave my delicate little ears enough time to recover, she begins her screeching. “UP THOSE ROPES NOW!! WHAT ARE YOU?? POINTLESS BABY HUMANS??? UP THERE NOW BEFORE I TEAR YOUR HORNS OFF WITH YOUR HAIR!”

What a beautiful charmer. Such sweet words she speaks.

I started my ascent up the rope.

One thing that has to be remembered is that demons do have claws, usually stretching out an inch in childhood. Those days have long gone for me, and I had to be very careful not to break the rope. I kept looking at the ceiling, which at this stage looked to be several miles about (probably closer to several hundred feet high).

I was thirty feet up when I noticed the rope beginning to fray. They were small strands at first, so sweet and delicate to the touch. But after another ten feel, the rope was feeling oh so heavy. The strands were becoming almost as thick as my hand, as I knew I was going to fall. If it were within my ability, I would be sweating.

I can’t stop. I have to keep going, as they are all watching. It’s a sign of weakness to stop; it’s a sign of weakness to fall as well. I cannot win this, but I must fall with pride.
The rope finally gave way. It was oh so dramatic, a fall for the masses. A nice THUNK ended my performance and my dignity.

I prefer the ground to punch me, rather than my fellow demon-kind.



What a dramatic fall from grace. The stumbling demon falling to the ground, meeting his home once more.

Ok, so I fell. No need to be all poetic regarding it. No need to dwell on the fall of one of Lucifer’s army. But they did. They laughed and shrieked and howled. Never before have these demons seen the mighty fall so far in a short time. Not that I had far to fall, metaphorically. Physically I had fallen several dozen feet, enough to kill a mere mortal.

The bell rang, indicating the end of that day’s imprisonment. Such joy to come from such a short ring-ring sound. I felt so blissful after that. Nothing could fill me with such glory and happiness.

Except Master was waiting for me.

The bus would have been better than this. To walk though the hot, molten river that divided my home from the schoolyard would have been better than this. Humiliation is never complete, without a visit from my Master.

As soon as he approached, I had to get down on one knee as a sign of respect. In front of everyone. Five minutes after falling to the floor. Wonderful.

Twenty minutes later, the crowd had decided to leave me alone, and I was still in the same position as before. Master let me stand (he is so kind to me).

“Did you have fun?” He sneered and leered towards me. Of course he knew what went on. He ORGANISED THE WHOLE BLOODY THING. But he thinks I am a moron, so I said nothing. To hear me say that today was like hell would have no meaning (obviously).

I wanted to leave, I wanted to leave I wanted to leave!!

“Do you wish to leave, Veluriel?” My Master spoke with such unnatural kindness in his voice. I felt like I was about to cry. He had never been so kind to me before. I slowly nodded.

“WELL YOU’RE STUCK HERE UNTIL YOU REPENT! YOU WILL LEARN TO RESPECT M. YOU WILL LEARN SOME RESPECT AND HUMILITY YOU WILL LEARN SUBSERVIENCE!!!” I think the walls of Hell could cave down with his demonic roar.

Nope. He doesn’t shut up. He just wants me to feel nothing but pure anger. I guess that’s what makes us agents of evil.

But in the end, he did let me go to my home. Alone.

Finally some peace and quiet. Away from insane cults and insane Masters and insane gym teachers. I was all alone, except for the screeching coming from my bathroom.

I haven’t been home in years. As you could probably imagine, that would lead to all sorts of smell banking up. All sorts of lowest-caste demons would descend upon my home, turning it into their own personal garbage dump. They would feast and gorge upon the delights of the empty home.

Not that it was spectacular in any way. It only consisted of a few rooms; the curves of the cavern-like structure making each one look smaller. The bedroom consisted of a bed (in red bed sheets), and a closet full of white cloaks.

Living room- a place where I had my GameStation plugged into the TV, a sofa where I spent countless hours on the sofa watching crappy game shows (“For a chance to get a red robe, name Lucifer’s 20394 most recent spawn!”)