Don was not a religious person. Yet here he was, in Hell, forging weapons for some army the devil himself was putting together.
Not for the first time he started laughing hysterically. The shackles around his worn-out wrists tightened, and his laughing died down in a small hiss of pain. How long had he been here now? When had he died? How had he died? He had forgotten most of his life before all this, but he was certain that he had never been a religious person. Heaven and Hell had simply never been real, not to him, not to anyone he had ever talked to.
A small winged demon reeking of something Don did not want to think about poked him with a very sharp spear. They could not talk, but they did not need to for everyone to know what they wanted. Don was slacking off, in their opinion. If he did not get back to work right now there’d be worse punishment than a little poke with that hated spear.
Several times he had considered that he had ended up here because he had never believed in God. He still was not so sure that he believed in him now, either. Did the Bible not say something along the lines of loving everyone equally? Was God not supposed to be this all-loving fatherfigure who forgave you for any sin? Don did not believe he had been a sinner when he had been alive, but from what he remembered God should have loved him either way. He should not be down here, he was sure of it.
It was not just him, either. There were other people down here, people he thought he recognised, who he knew had been good people when they had been alive. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. God would not have forsaken good people like them. Something else was going on, something more evil, more vile, more threatening to everyone still up there. He dreaded to think what it might be.
The horn sounded, and everyone turned around to see what was going on. Sometimes the devil himself showed himself, inspecting everyone’s work like it was the most important thing he had ever enslaved people for. Don was beginning to think that it probably was.
Today, the devil was nowhere to be seen. Instead a thundering sound boomed through the massive underground hothouse, turning everyone’s head in sync. He had never heard anything like it before, and he wanted to run and hide even though he knew that there was no point. Where could you hide when you were already in Hell? Things could not get much worse from here.
Then he saw them. Thousands and thousands of black shapes at first, quickly coming in his direction. It did not take long before they were close enough for Don to see who they were. The Devil’s Army, in the flesh, wearing the armor and weapons he had worked on tirelessly. They were the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. Whatever the devil wanted to achieve with them, Don had no doubt that he very easily could achieve just that and more.
For the first time since he had gotten here, Don felt something stir within him. He could not allow this army to get to wherever they wanted to get. They had to be stopped, at all costs. Don had no idea how he would stop them, but he did not see that he had much of a choice. If this army reached their destination, all hell would break lose – literally! He could not allow that to happen.
In the darkest, hottest depths of Hell, Don began the revolution.
All of my 10-Minute stories are improvised, unplanned, and unedited apart from spelling and grammar mistakes. The idea is to kick-start the dreaded Monday with a short, creative exercise without thinking about it, and simply writing for the sake of writing.
For all other 10-Minute shorts, take a look here.