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Betrayal in the Underworld - A Tale of Redemption and Despair · Shallow Nights: Scary Bedtime Stories

• 0:04
  I've been wandering for nearly 300 years now.
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  My blistered feet never seem to heal and every time I stop
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  walking I'm sucked into the sand and slowly dissolved before
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  being spa back out to continue walking.
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  There is only one correct path marked in blood red sand.
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  It goes up a mountain, across a jagged bed of rocks, and we have
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  to hang ourselves above a pool of water.
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  At the end, we pass out, feel the joy of drowning, then
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  resurrect instantly. At the starting point, any
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  attempt to deviate from the path doesn't work.
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  It's like a magnet will pull us back to the road and as
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  punishment, we get sucked into the sand.
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  Trust me, it hurts much less to walk.
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  I walk as slowly as I can every day, but it only prolongs the
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  torture to come. Every day, every hour I walk, I
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  wonder why I've never seen another soul here.
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  How can I be the only one in hell?
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  Some days I fantasize that I'm actually strapped to a hospital
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  bed and all this will end once I wake up, but it never does.
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  And I am not that deluded. One day, I was given a chance.
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  I was going up the same mountain I had to go across every day,
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  and this time I saw a tall, dark haired, rather handsome
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  teenager. He snapped his fingers and the
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  red sand blended into the background.
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  I stopped in front of him. Hello, Martha.
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  He smiled, his teeth gleaming beneath a pair of nightshade
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  Violet eyes. Who are you?
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  I gasped, those white teeth increased as his lips pulled
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  back in an even wider smile. Take a guess, Martha, you're the
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  devil. I said.
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  Bingo. The team laughed, an unholy
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  sound in this solemn mountain. And I am here to tell you that
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  your punishment is almost up. Your time has come to be reborn.
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  What? No need to look so surprised.
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  I punish bad people. I don't keep them here forever.
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  I was still too suspicious to believe him.
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  He was the devil after all. There had to be a trick.
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  What did I have to do? He pointed behind me, a dark
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  finger materializing a door from a different dimension.
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  Now I knew why I hadn't seen anyone.
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  We were probably walking through a million different dimensions,
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  each of us oblivious. The realization made me a little
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  less lonely, especially when a man stumbled out from it.
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  This is Peter. Peter, Martha, The two of you
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  will need to work together to get out of hell.
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  After you've drowned yourself, follow the red sand all the way.
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  The devil looked at me and a voice boomed in my head.
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  Only one of you will make it out of here.
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  The other stays here forever. I gasped, and Peter grabbed me.
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  Apparently he hadn't heard anything, because his face
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  looked more concerned than worried.
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  And so began our arduous trek. We walked past the inner
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  sanctums of the Devil's Playground, wincing with each
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  new revelation. Every step, I was wondering how
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  I would overpower Peter when he was obviously stronger.
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  Hey, you all right? I looked over at him.
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  Yeah. I'm just wondering what it would
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  be like to be reborn again. Why were you here anyway?
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  I bit back tears. Suicide.
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  I was being bullied in school for sleeping with the most
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  popular kid who had a girlfriend at the time.
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  They called me a slut, egged my car, burned my books.
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  The teachers weren't doing anything either, because one of
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  the teachers was the mother of the girlfriend.
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  I couldn't take it. I jumped from a bridge.
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  I bit back tears, remembering the terror of falling.
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  What about you? His face looked sad.
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  Murder. I had a daughter who was being
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  bullied too. I saw her cry every night.
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  One day someone cut her hair off.
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  A glint appeared in his eyes. I tracked down the kid and he
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  pulled out a knife on me. My marine training kicked in.
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  I took off his arm. He died of blood loss.
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  He looked at me. And now here we are, suffering
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  for things we never deserve to go through.
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  I looked back at him and something changed.
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  It was as though love grabbed hold of me, as though it could
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  somehow exist in this hellhole. I smiled and replied, well at
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  least we're done with our sentence.
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  We exchanged details of our past lives and eventually we fell in
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  love. The month long trek seemed
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  easier with him around. We went past fire, freezing
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  waters and glass showers until a reddish aura began to appear at
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  the foot of a gigantic mountain. He kissed me as we reached the
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  end of our journey, looking up at the gate on a rock shelf just
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  out of reach. Martha, give me a leg up, I'll
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  pull you up afterwards. His smile made me remorseful as
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  despite all my affection, the devil's words still rang clearly
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  in my head. He murdered.
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  He took someone else's life. I deserve to get out of here
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  more than him. When we were reborn, we wouldn't
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  even remember each other anyway. OK, He went up first and then
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  pulled me up. We held hands as we prepared to
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  walk through the portal, and he turned to me.
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  I know we won't remember each other after this, but I wish we
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  could. All my time in hell, and I'm
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  only sorry for that. I'm sorry too.
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  I twisted, prepared for his look of shock as he tumbled to the
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  ground. Instead, he held strong and
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  flung me off the rock where I hit the red sand with a thump.
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  I began to sink, but instead of the standard dissolving and
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  recovering, I only felt the pain.
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  I couldn't even die and resurrect.
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  It was the kind of pain that I envisioned only held to harbor.
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  Why? I screamed up at Peter.
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  He looked at me and walked through the portal wordlessly.
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  I was left to rot in an endless, eternal loop of anguish and
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  pain. Peter stepped out through the
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  portal and sighed. The teenager was at the other
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  end, kicking back on a chair. How was it, Peter?
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  He shrugged and turned to face the wall, where the lady was
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  still struggling in desperation, watching the gates close
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  forever. I thought she was different.
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  The devil laughed. Different people are all the
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  same, Peter. They don't know love for others,
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  they only know how to look out for themselves, and given the
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  right excuse, even eternal damnation can be justified.
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  Look at her, prepared to sacrifice you, the one who made
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  hell bearable for her. You still think people can be
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  saved? Peter's face betrayed no
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  emotion. There's a reason this is called
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  Hell. The devil smirked, surveying his
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  guest, unfolding his wings and picking up a clipboard.
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  And that's why you don't get many visitors.
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  Saint Peter.