Hell is the last place anyone wants to be. I admit I've done a lot of horrible things in my life. In all honesty, I expected this. The Bible pretty much got it down. The Blazing fire, the screams of the damned, the smell of brimstone, and chocolate chip cookie? -- Anon Guest
My name is William, and I have devoted my life to chocolate. The flavours, the artistry, the wonders I could make with it. I may not have been one hundred percent ethical, but it's impossible to be truly virtuous in a world gone rotten.
I did not expect to be sent to hell. Not truly. While I didn't believe I deserved it, I also did not believe I had earned heaven. I had hoped for at least purgatory, or perhaps reincarnation, but I did not think I deserved hell. On top of that came another surprise. A fully-stocked confectioner's kitchen with everything a confectioner-artisan could want.
The fruit was always fresh. The eggs were exactly what I needed of them. The sugar was plentiful and varied. It was as close to heaven as I could want.
The fearsome creature by my side was not a devil, but an angel[1]. "We have had some difficulty over the recent centuries. Hell has run out of tormentors."
This did not, I sensed, mean I had a reprieve from torment. "So this is something I'm doing to myself."
"You do not understand," said the angel. Three of its eyes were watching me with concern. "You have not earned damnation. It is the others that suffer."
"What oth--" but the angel had vanished. I was wearing my chef's whites and my hands were clean. A thought came to me... What about angels made of chocolate?
A sculpture of my guide would be a good start. I measured out the buttons on the scale.
For a while, it was paradise. Creating. Shaping. Melting. Drafting and cutting and moulding... It was what I had lived for. It was what I loved since the day I learned what cooking was.
There were screams, of course. Because this was hell, there had to be screaming.
I am ashamed to admit that I did not connect the screaming with my actions for far too long.
That realisation came when I was at the painting stage, making the chocolate creation as terrifying and beautiful as the angel who saw me into here.
Every chocolate button I had used writhed and tried to become human forms before returning to the shape I had made. There were a million cracks and I could see...
Thousands upon thousands of people. Melted together. Bent and warped into the body of an angel. Bent and warped within the body of an angel. Screaming to be let out. Screaming to be allowed to breathe. Screaming... endlessly... because of the torment I had created.
I was not being punished.
I was the punishment.
Unlike the angels or the demons, I was able to weep for them. Which was my punishment too.
[1] Biblical angels are horrific. When they say, "Be not afraid," it's because their true shapes are eldritch horrors with wings.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / dolgachov]
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