Lemon-scented cleaning products. Hell smelled a lot like a clean hotel room. Dying was confusing and loud. It felt like waking up from a nightmare at midnight. The jolt, the way things fled her conscious thinking brain. The way it was so dark in hell.
Oh, her eyes were shut. She willed her eyes open. Hell also looked a lot like a clean hotel room. Well… maybe more of a rustic Riviera vibe?
A cursory glance revealed wooden paneling and trendy cargo pallet detailing. She’d see more if she could stand right now. There was also a queen-sized bed she’d love to sink into if she wasn’t processing intense trauma at the moment. And also that she’d lost her phone.
Mild panic ensues.
Hazel scrambled at her pockets, then around where she had curled up in a fetal position before. She came to the awful realization that, yes, her phone was well and truly missing. In hindsight, it wasn’t that surprising, since she’s in hell. But this felt like extra hell, right here.
Her vision blurred. Her eyes felt damp. Why was it doing that? Things weren’t that bad yet. Man, she was a stupid baby sometimes. Her mouth did the thing where you’re trying not to ugly cry, but it just contributes to that exact aesthetic. She forgot to breathe. Hazel gasped, her breath catching in her chest. The back of her neck prickled as tendrils of hair stuck to her skin.
Then someone knocked on the door. It’s Satan. It has to be. Hazel leaped behind the bed, hiding away from the incarnate of evil.
Another knock.
“That’s all right, I’ll just wait in the main dining room. Follow the signs when you’re feeling yourself, all right?” A feminine voice called out. Satan was a woman too? Like God?
Two knocks. Not three. What kind of psychopath did she find herself trapped with? Hazel strained her ears as the sound of clip-clopping receded. She coughed a little from choked-up sobs she had muffled in her bid to hide from Satan.
She stayed in her hidden nook, not daring to move even a muscle for fear of alerting the goat person of her presence. Wait. No. She seemed to know she was there? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Paralyzed by anxiety, Hazel hid. Her babbling brain whipped her mind into a frenzy of fear and loneliness. Her friends were gone. Did they even know she was in hell? They’d never know
She couldn’t remember how she died. Bright colors and screaming. It really was like a bad dream. It faded, but the bad feelings from thinking about it were real and sharp. Were there people with her?
She stayed in that curled-up position for what felt like hours. Why was it so loud in hell? Shouldn’t the bad thoughts be outside now? How long had she been holding this cat-cow yoga position?
A wave of weariness washed through her. The bed she was clinging behind seemed really comfortable. Surely Satan wouldn’t mind. It was probably some nefarious attempt to tempt her into a very specific form of torture anyway. One she deserved for abandoning the people she loved.
Hazel crawled into the bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.
----------------------------------------
Anywhere between five minutes and eight hours passed before her eyes cracked open once more. Hell was calm. And very comfortable. She stretched and contemplated the ceiling in a new light. She frowned. The same light? The lighting had not changed since her first appearance in hell.
Frowning at that realization, Hazel blearily sat up. A window? Hold on. A cat? There was a cat at the foot of her bed. It seemed very at home on the plush bed linens.
Hazel watched as it too, woke up, doing the little arched stretch that cats love to do. It looked exactly like when she was sobbing/hiding behind the bed. The cat kneaded its paws into the duvet, alternating each little paw in a slow, circular motion.. This can’t be right. Cats can’t be in hell.
“Psspsspss.”
The cat ignored her. Maybe it’s still hell.
Careful not to disturb the cat, Hazel slipped out of bed. Staying low to the ground, her feet landed not on the harsh wooden surface she expected but on a pair of very well-fitted slippers. Satan must have snuck into her room and somehow got her shoe size.
She opted not to wear them to avoid giving away her sneaking. It wouldn’t do to wear slippers on a stealth mission. She was well aware the flip-flopping would be deafening on the wooden floor of this hotel.
Probably exactly as the devil planned, Hazel thought. Tricking would-be escapees with brilliantly placed, perfectly fit, and wildly comfortable slippers.
After a quick check and a few pats bestowed upon the cat, Hazel cracked open the door for her first real glimpse of hell. A long, still Riviera-themed, and quite tasteful, corridor. She counted about ten other doors besides her own, split between both sides of the corridor. Steep-ish staircases flanked either end of the corridor.
She flipped a coin in her head, felt bad about the result, and chose the left staircase.
To be honest, a small part of Hazel dared to hope that maybe she wasn’t in hell, what with the bed and the cat. A tiny part of her really believed that she didn’t deserve to be there. But the hotel art on the walls made it obvious to her. This was well and truly the hottest of the circles of punishment.
Averting her gaze from yet another painting of an oddly shaped pear, Hazel snuck to the end of the corridor. Then, at a glacial pace, she did the thing kids do when they climb up stairs on all fours.
The thirty seconds of climbing up the stairs was arduous. Controlling her breathing and making sure not to creak the wood had her abs so tense it hurt. Movement at the exit of the stairwell caused her to jolt a little. She slipped and almost yanked a collection of strange (hell ritual) necklaces off some command hook. Collecting herself from where she had splayed out over the steps, Hazel peeked over the top step.
She was greeted by the sight of about a dozen people mingling in an open-concept dining area. People of all shapes, colors, and sizes filled her view. Literally, in the case of an actual giant ambling towards her.
“You must be new here!” He said, too jolly to be in hell. He took stock of Hazel’s current pose and offered a hand. “Oh dear, it’s alright to be frightened - we were all in your position once.”
Fuck. She had herself in another yoga pose. Cobra, this time.
“Yeah? Until they tortured you into loving being here?” Hazel challenged, saying literal garbage words. It was hard to be venomous while maintaining perfect yoga posture. She didn’t care though, and brushed his hand aside with little resistance, to his visible surprise.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
The giant took it well, bursting into laughter. “You’re a riot! Saoirse’ll love you!”
He paused again, once more gauging Hazel. “A right ball of fear, aren’t ya? I don’t mean any harm - erm, I think I should let the captain handle this.”
He let himself get dragged away by concerned-looking fellow.. passengers? Given some room to breathe, the fog of fear lifted from Hazel's eyes. All the clues finally came together. She was a passenger on an honest-to-good riverboat.
Unsettled by the thought that she was on a retirement cruise, Hazel scrambled onto her feet. The railings were low as if to accommodate older wheelchair-bound elderly.
The railings also framed an infinite sea, with horizons stretching perfectly level to her eyes. The sea shimmered with an ethereal sparkle. It glowed against the dark, starless sky.
She snapped out of her reverie when a taller woman gave her the warmest hug she’d ever had. Warm because she’s in hell, Hazel reminded herself. Guiltily indulging for a moment, Hazel forcefully broke free of the (very comfortable) hold.
The strange light-brown haired woman had a dumbfounded look on her face. The giant stage whispered, “Yeah, she’s quite strong, that one.”
Hazel glared at the tall and kind of attractive person who had hugged her. She looked like an Olympic athlete. The scar on her cheek did nothing to detract from her looks, as expected of an action hero. Somewhat odd was the oversized and overly-ornate oar she had strapped to her back.
“Oh, I’m sorry - you didn’t wear the opt-out necklace by the door so I thought - I didn't realize. I deeply apologize.”
Opt-out necklace?
Sure enough, everyone on the boat seemed to be sporting the same necklace.
“They’re all opting out?”
“Yes, it’s not a great system - I’m surprised you’ve recovered so soon! Most new arrivals take at least a day to even start walking again! Did you get hungry? I was sure I asked Mochi to get a lunchbox for you.”
“… Mochi?”
“Yes, the cat!”
“But cats can’t be in hell?”
“Oh. I wouldn’t put money on that. Back in the living world, they say cats are the ultimate invasive species, don't they? Well, someone snuck a kitten here and before we knew it, there were cats absolutely everywhere!”
“Living world... I’m really in hell?”
“Hell? No of course not sweetie, we’re just in the In-Between. No one’s quite sure what comes after, but you’re very much safe here,” the pretty lady smiled.
Then, as if a purposefully timed cosmic joke, the ship violently jerked to the side. Everyone but the weird woman was forced off their feet by the sudden motion.
Bewildered, Hazel clawed her way back onto her feet.The deck rocked wildly as a massive snake reared its head over the railing.
The thing was massive - longer than the boat and about half as girthy. It snarled, defying her understanding of snake anatomy. She’d be first to admit she wasn’t well versed in the fauna of wherever the fuck she was, though.
The beast postured, staring down the woman from earlier, who now held a shining oar.
Then it ignored her, and lunged at fleeing passengers, knocking the boat around. The oarswoman swung from across the deck. Hazel watched wide-eyed as the oar grew in length and smacked the snake.
Reeling from the surprisingly heavy blow, the snake coiled up like a spring. Everyone ran for the lower decks. A giant, different from the one before, offered a hand. "Saoirse has this handled - we need to get away. Now!"
He didn’t know she could help..
“Get away from it!” Hazel shouted at the woman, “I have this!”.
Undeterred, the woman replied, “No, I have this, stay back with the others.”
Projections of light manifested around the paddle end of the oar. Saoirse’s hair fluttered in non-existent winds. Her whole being glowed with power.
“You’re a magical sailor girl. Maybe you do have this,” Hazel breathed. A blinding beam punched into the monster, swatting it out of the position it was holding. The creature roared, steadying itself, then whipped straight for the giant.
“No, you don’t!” Hazel sent a swift kick at the striking beast’s head.Her kick connected, redirecting the lunge into the deck. Splinters and broken pieces exploded out like shrapnel. Hazel felt warm blood flow across her leg. Was that hers? Oh god, it was.
Maybe she didn’t have this. She should’ve left it to Saoirse. Her frame of reference was a wayward rattlesnake, not legless Godzilla. How did some broken wood even cut her?
Struggling to stand, Hazel glared at the dazed beast. Its glistening black scales. The glittering silver teeth promising an unbreakable hold once sunk into flesh. A very exposed neck.
Sight and hearing fuzzy from fear, Hazel jumped at the snake in an attempt to straddle it. She did her best attempt at a full-body imitation of a snake hold technique.
In disbelief at what was happening to it, the monster wildly whipped its head around. Hazel gripped tightly, drawing rivulets of blood out of the snake. Which of course, led to even more violent shaking.
With her brain and eyeballs rattling about in her skull, Hazel caught a glimpse of the woman with the oar. She was charging up another attack.
Hazel’s eyes widened as the oar spat out another beam of bright white light. Slamming into the snake, it cratered the beast’s scales. The creature reared up high and leaped into the waters below. Hazel barely let go in time and plunged into the sea.
Ugh her tummy hurt. Hazel felt disoriented. The water felt so weird. Oh god, the snake. She burst out of the water's surface. She was a little scared. “Oh my god! It’s in the water with me! Get me up! Help!”
She was a lot scared, actually.
She scrambled for the magically extended oar Saoirse let overboard. Hazel practiced her breathing exercises as she let herself be pulled out of the water like a drowned rat.
The second she was over the rails, she laid out on the deck. The adrenaline and fear leaving her system felt almost euphoric. A dull thump close to her ear spooked Hazel.
“Some warning would’ve been nice.” She supplied.
“You were heavy.” Saoirse panted, as if that was any explanation. If Hazel wasn’t grappling with her mortality for the second time in as many hours, she would be very shaken.
“That’s the thanks I get for risking my life to help?”
“No, no! I mean it in a.. good way? I had it anyway,” Saoirse pouted.
“Uh huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Hazel conceded, lost in thought. Nothing had ever come close to her strength on earth. She was the bull in the china shop, and now she was the china in the bull shop. She’d keep workshopping that.
The two of them sprawled across the deck as the hiding spirits came back aboard. Saoirse left and returned with some makeshift bandages made from torn-up clothing. She wordlessly began applying it to Hazel’s leg. As she did this, one of the spirits, a short but built man, strolled up to the pair.
“You don’t seem so scared of them shades do you?”
“I was. Scared I mean.” Hazel said. She winced and, at Saoirse, “That was a bit tight.”
“Oh no, I meant something deeper, more instinctual!” The man once again spoke up. He was insistent on questioning Hazel. She noticed he was casting some not-so-furtive glances at her bleeding leg.
Something was off. The good vibes from earlier started melting away. “Like humans and snakes?”
“Human? Now that’s a term I haven’t heard in a while. That’s exactly it though, that primal fear.”
Oh god. What the fuck does that mean. “What?” Hazel asked, “What does that even mean?”
At that, Saoirse sat up and gave Hazel a look. It was smoldering and magazine-worthy.
“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not the weird one here - we’re all humans are we not?” Hazel questioned, panicked from the increasing attention.
“Hazel, no one in the greater universe uses that term anymore,” Saoirse said.
“It’s a slur?”
“What? No! Just outdated. Not descriptive enough.”
Hazel gaped at her. Saoirse frowns at this.
“Come with me, to your room. You need to get up to date on a few things outside your corner of the galaxy, I think.”
Something was up. Hiding out in her room seemed a good idea. Anything to get away from the growing crowd. Hazel followed Saoirse back to her room.
“Sit down, Hazel.” Saoirse gestured at the soft and inviting bed before collapsing backward into nothing. A chair poofed into existence as Saoirse fell backward. The theatrics were a little much for Hazel.
“So, Hazel, welcome to the In-Between, where I suspect you don’t exactly belong.”