Ticket To Ride

            Death came suddenly as an uninvited guest to Albert. At forty years old, he just wasn’t ready to die. He had only just begun to really enjoy life and be successful, but the car that hit him didn’t seem to care. He didn’t even realize what had happened to him until one of the devils minions explained it to him at the gates of hell. When Albert asked through a veil of tears why he was in hell rather than heaven, he was told by the smirking demon that hell is where people go who didn’t care about others. You didn’t even have to be an actively bad person to earn you ticket to the ferry of The River Styx, all you had to do was nothing of consequence.

            Albert, terrified and angry, begged the minion to let him make a deal. Anything, he said. What ever you want, he said. Like a good used car salesmen, the evil deity told Albert that he had to discuss prices with the boss and that Albert should wait there, as though he were going to wander off somewhere, and he disappeared into the void. Moments later, It was back with the offer. The offer was this; Albert could be returned to life until he asked to be returned to hell. He could have all the time he wanted, but his soul was to burn as had already been determined by the powers that be. Albert’s was ecstatic about the offer, and had already began making plans in his mind to turn his life around and to work tirelessly to please the ever forgiving God who could doubtlessly trump Satan’s legal system. Albert agreed to the easy terms and conditions, and felt himself being lifted up and thrown back into his body, leaving behind a demon who was laughing with far more ironic humor that Albert liked to hear.

            As quickly as Albert was placed back into his corpus terra, the fierce and burning pain hit him. His entire body, inside as well as out, burned the way he imagined an acid bath would feel. He struggled for air that wouldn’t come, and flailed his arms and legs as much as was possible as stiff as they were. He tried to scream, but his mouth wouldn’t open. He tried to force his eyes to see, but they two were sealed tighter than Fort Knox. His stiff and burning arms and legs beat against satin lined walls, and he finally saw what hells gate keeper found so amusing.

            Albert had been returned to life all right, but not the life he had hoped for. He was trapped inside his casket buried beneath the dirt with sewn shut eyes that couldn’t see and a sewn shut mouth that would never again open. His lungs had been removed with the rest of his organs, and his veins and muscles were being pickled by the formaldehyde that the mortician had filled him with. He wanted out. Needed out. The only thing Albert wanted with this new terrible life was to tell Satan, scream to Satan, that he was ready to return and make his passage across the river into hell; anything would be better than this. As strong as his will was however, his lips would never again part enough to form the words needed to release him.