No Place Like Home

No Place Like Home is my first short story and the prequel to Infernal Fall. It follows a very unfortunate soul on his descent into Hell. Here’s a little taste:

Doug staggered out the front door of Main Street Pub and Grill. The lopsided sidewalk tricked his feet, and he stumbled into the side of a beat-up car. The gun slipped from his grasp and clattered to the asphalt. His heartbeat thumped in his ears and pulsed at the peaks of his temples as if they were volcanoes ready to explode. He blinked hard to keep the world from spinning. Leaning down, he took the weapon and fell forward. The trigger bent, and the gun went off.

Warmth erupted from under his left collarbone. A deep itch needed scratching. He reached in and plucked at his soaked muscle fibers. Each reverberation brought pleasant relief. Rolling to his back, he groaned. Strange tingling sensations zipped up his spine in rapid succession. The taste of blood and stomach acid welled at the back of his mouth. He coughed to clear his throat.

Sirens wailed from downtown. He chuckled because they sounded like children. “Bunch of babies,” he said smiling.

A familiar face popped into his vision. The snitchy bartender had a phone pressed to his ear. “He done shot himself,” he said breathlessly. “He’s bleeding out.”

“Go to Hell,” Doug growled. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”

Those were Doug’s last words.

Something beneath him—beneath the surface—something with hands tugged on his shirt and pulled him through the ground, through solid asphalt. Doug floated in a dark, open space. Slowly he floated upward as if drawn back to his lifeless body. It looked to be lying on a sheet of tinted glass with the snitch standing over him talking into his cellphone. Doug reached for his body, but a strange, shadowy being dropped a rock fell into his hand. The small pebble had massive weight, and Doug couldn’t let go it. He fell away into darkness, away from his body. Light faded until there was nothing.

A short time later, he woke with a throbbing headache. Engulfed in thick smoke, he heaved and coughed. The hot surface burned his hands when he tried to push himself up. A harsh cadence of footsteps approached. Someone snatched his wrist and cuffed him. The metal pinched his skin.

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