Hell is nothing like what anyone says, Michael thought as he walked through the large iron bar gates. They were cracked just enough for him to slip under the chain linking them together. He stood there for a moment. As he walked down the cobblestone street, the thought solidified in his mind. Not like anything anywhere. Plato has described a giant layered prison of sins. The vikings told of a barren, cold wasteland at the bottom of the universe. And every sunday morning preacher or day-time televangelist warned of fire and brimstone and demons ready to torture the damned.

In reality, Hell was a vast city, made up of buildings and monuments from every architectural movement in history. As if they had just been plopped there from the living world, large gothic cathedrals stood next to roman temples; log cabins neighbored domed babylonian mosques; even a handful of Sears and Roebuck Home-kit houses were sandwiched in between Addams family style mansions and small wooden huts. It was all beautiful in a way – like a mosaic of time. He walked until he came to a fork in the road.

THIS WAY, PLEASE

The sign at the fork pointed to his left. Michael shrugged and followed it. Several more arrow shaped signs pointed down the road towards the enormous black palace. It wasn’t until he got to the foot of the grand staircase that led up to the front doors of the castle that he stopped and looked around.

“Hang on,” he said, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly prickling, “Where…is everyone?” It was true. The entire city of Hell was empty and still. No demons or chimeras stalked the streets, no tortured souls screamed from inside the various buildings. Nothing. He looked back, then up at the castle. He had the sense of false security right before an ambush. Michael stood there for several minutes until the unchanged stillness relaxed his nerves. He was safe…for now. Or at least as safe as one can expect to be in Hell. So, he walked up the black marble stairs to the great palace doors.

The doors were slightly agape, like the entrance gates were, and a small hand-written note was taped to the door at eye level.

Follow the signs, please.

The “please” made Michael laugh. It was such an odd word to find in Hell, he thought and went in. The hallway the signs led him to from the Entrance Hall was narrow with high vaulted ceilings. The way was lit by an amalgamation of different lamps and light fixtures on either side of the hallway. When he turned a corner, he found another hallway with portraits hanging on the walls. He didn’t recognize some, but many he did. A doctor in a nazi uniform and stethoscope, Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler, Ted Bundy, even John Wayne Gacy in his clown costume. It all felt like a museum, and it gave him chills to see the kinds of people being immortalized in a gallery. When he reached the doorway at the end of the hallway, he stopped to stare at the portraits flanking it. On the left was a tall, fair-haired young man. He had green eyes, sharp features, and wore a black suit. A snake hung across his shoulders. The portrait on the right was a woman, stunningly gorgeous with a curved nose and olive skin. She had a seductive smile with lips as red as the apple she held up in one hand. The other portraits were still, life-less portraits, while these two had…character and attitude. Michael didn’t recognize either of them, and only lingered a few seconds longer before grabbing the doorknob and pushing it open.

The throne room to the Palace of Hell was magnificently large, with room enough for a whole stadium’s worth of people. That’s why, as Michael entered, it was eerie for it to be so empty. As liminal as the rest of Hell had been, but it still filled him with awe. A voice came from the very far side of the room.

“Come on in,” the voice said, startling Michael. Seven large thrones sat side by side on a raised platform along the wall. Michael walked forwards and as he got closer, he could make out a figure lounging on the middle one. The man waved a hand. “Come on. I don’t want to have to shout the whole time.” Michael picked up his pace and when he stopped in front of him, the man leaned forward and smiled sinisterly. “Welcome to Hell.”

“Who are you?” Michael asked, unable to hide his confusion. The man on the throne slouched and scratched his shoulder.

“Lucifer,” he said casually. Michael smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” he said. “You don’t look like him?”

“Oh, like you’re so impressive,” Lucifer said. “And what should I look like?”

“Well, you know,” Michael said, “like a demon, The Devil. Not…” he gestured at the man’s green hoodie, tan shorts, and black sneakers. His blonde hair was messy and hung to his shoulders. Lucifer leaned back.

“‘Like a demon,’ huh?” he mused. “Let’s try this.”

Lucifer was suddenly engulfed in flames, the fire growing into a fifty foot tall inferno.

Michael fell back, shielding his eyes from the intense heat. As quickly as they came, the flames disappeared and in their place was an enormous figure. The demon’s flesh was crimson and blistered. Huge dragon-like wings extended out a hundred feet from his shoulders. Its face was sharp with two massive horns curving up from its forehead. It smiled with a mouthful of fangs and reached down a clawed hand to Michael, who screamed with terror. Michael closed his eyes, waiting for the claws to seize him and crush him to nothing.

But then, he realized he heard laughter. Opening his eyes, he looked and saw Lucifer, now back to his hoodie and shorts, laughing. Michael stood, his fear gone and replaced with indignation and embarrassment. Lucifer laughed until he almost slid off the throne, then he wiped his eyes.

“I’m sorry, man,” he said, still smiling. “I gotta have a little fun here. But, I’ll give you some credit for not shitting yourself. Whenever I do that bit with a priest or nun, they always shit themselves or cry like little choir boys.”

“Priests and nuns get sent here?” Michael asked. Lucifer nodded.

“Oh yeah. Just because you take a vow of celibacy or carry around a rosary doesn’t admonish you of shit like child abuse.” Lucifer slid off the throne and stretched. “Yeah, God tends to be a little touchy on a lot of lesser ‘sins,’” he did air-quotes around that last word, “but he gets it right sometimes.”

“Okay,” Michael said. “Then what am I here for? Was I really evil enough to deserve to be eternally tortured by Satan himself?” Lucifer shook his head and took a green apple from his pocket and took a bite.

“How the hell should I know,” he said as he chewed, “No, no. We’re going to play a game. Any game you like – except Twister. That’s really fucking awkward with only two people. But you pick.” Michael stared at Lucifer confused.

“A…game? Like a board game?” Lucifer nodded.

“Yeah, or a card game, or D&D, or anything two people can play.” “What’s the catch?”

“It’s a deal. A deal with the Devil if you want. We play, if you win, you get to move on to another afterlife. If I win, you’ve got to stay. Simple as that.” Lucifer snapped his fingers and a coffee table and two chairs appeared between them. He took another large bite of the apple, “So, what’ll it be?”

Michael looked at the table, still hesitant to believe it, expecting some sort of trick. But, he was sent to hell, so he guessed he deserved whatever it was. He was never a big board game player in life. After finding sports in middle school, he didn’t have time for them. But looking at the old wooden table now, he remembered one summer as a kid. The summer before his grandfather died.

“Scrabble,” he said.

“Interesting choice,” Lucifer said and walked back between his throne and the one on its left. Michael followed. “Not a lot of people pick that one,” Lucifer said over his shoulder. Behind the throne was the biggest collection of board games Michael had ever seen. There were several small tables piled high with card boxed, half a dozen of what looked like IKEA shelves overflowing with game boxes, and just tall piles of even more boxes stacked haphazardly in between. Michael stifled a laugh and Lucifer looked up from one of the piles. “What?”

“Nothing,” Michael said, going over to a pile of various themed Monopoly boxes. Many of them he didn’t even know had existed. “I’m just surprised. Was expecting you to just snap the game into existence like the table.” Lucifer shrugged and went on looking.

“You know, I did that at first. The first century or two, but then I started just wanting to keep the games afterwards. And its my palace and domain after all, so fuck it.” Michael smiled as he picked up a vintage styled deck of Uno cards. “Here it is!” Lucifer pulled out a light wooden box and led Michael back around the thrones. When they got to the table, they sat down across from each other.

“So why was I sent here?” Michael asked again after they’d gotten the game set up and each placed a word. He dug out four new tiles from the velvet bag.

“No fucking clue,” Lucifer said and put down four letters to spell out OCEAN off an open C.

“Really?” Michael asked. “But how do you know what punishment to give out? Aren’t you supposed to know?” Lucifer shook his head while refilling his tile stand.

“Nope. At least not anymore. I haven’t bothered with it for a few centuries now. Do you have any clue why you’d be here?” Michael was in the middle of setting down his tiles to spell WHOLE around Lucifer’s OCEAN, grateful to be rid of the W so quickly, but he paused to think. Lucifer tapped a couple fingers on the table. “Play, then think.”

“Oh, sorry,” Michael said and finished laying down the tiles. As he fished out some replacement ones, he thought about his life. His memories were extremely clear and vivid as he rifled through them. Every perceived sin seemed enormous and cardinal – even polite white lies and minor outburst of anger. A tally formed in his head, each sin getting closer to tipping the scales. He thought of the time as a teenager when he drove off with an unpaid tank of gas, the times he yelled at his father, and how frequently he used to swear and drink.

“Anything?” Lucifer said, snapping Michael out of his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh,” Michael looked at the board then quickly laid down some tiles to make Lucifer’s ENTIRE into ENTIRELY.

“Good one,” Lucifer smiled. “Still need time to think?” Michael sighed.

“I don’t know. Honestly, my life seemed like a big fuck up in retrospect. I didn’t kill anyone or cheat or anything, but I guess I didn’t lead a good enough one long term.” He rubbed his temples. Even death couldn’t save him from his chronic migraines.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said as he studied the board and his tiles. “God can be a real stickler for things.” He paused and looked up. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Michael.” Lucifer gestured at him and smiled. “What?”

“That’s probably it. He tends to be harder on people named after angels.” Michael furrowed his brow confused.

“I…I was named after my grandfather.” Lucifer shrugged and put down one tile to pluralize OCEAN and take a double word score.

“Technically, yeah. And he was probably named after a relative and so were they and so on. But that first person was named after that pompous winged prick.”

“You’re serious?” Michael said, laying down some tiles and taking a double letter score. “Oh yeah,” Lucifer said. “He’s a really righteous daddy’s boy. Can’t swing a sword for shit and yet calls himself “The Slayer of the Beast”. He couldn’t chop off my leg if he tried. In fact, archangel is just a term God made to declare favorites, and believe me they get –.”

“No,” Michael interrupted. “You mean everyone that shares a name with an angel is basically doomed to Hell unless they’re a fucking saint or something? Really?”

“I don’t make the rules, dude,” Lucifer said with his hands up defensively. “I’ve never agreed with it. Shit, that’s one of the reasons I started this whole thing.” He gestured around to the throne room at large. He shuffled his tiles a little and studied the board again. “I got nothing. I’m trading all these fucking vowels in. Your turn.”

Michael looked down at the board, then at the cavernous room around them. He thought about Hell itself, about all the emptiness and the silence he’d passed to get here. Then, he looked at Lucifer, the Devil, Evil Incarnate, currently mixing up Scrabble tiles in a velvet bag.

Michael looked down at the board and tried to focus on the letters.

“So…,” he started flatly, “I…I was just predestined for eternal torment? Damnation without relief – that’s how it’s phrased, right?” Michael’s mouth twisted as he tried to not let himself cry.

“I fucking hate it too, man,” Lucifer sighed. “Fuck, I wish they’d update that fucking book. It’s like trying to follow a recipe when the measurements are still in drams and comparisons to body parts. Just fucking impossible and rare to get it exactly right. And whenever there’s any attempt to do so, there’s always some fuckhead who insists on the broken latin version. It’s a whole mess.” Michael nodded silently and put a T down to make AT and unceremoniously take a triple word score. They both sat there in silence for a long while. Finally, Lucifer broke the silence and laid down some tiles.

“That’s why I did this. Came up with the whole deal, I mean. Hell was getting really fucking overcrowded. People who just said one wrong thing or did something socially unacceptable a thousand years ago were here, expected to be tortured for all eternity. But the name thing really broke me. One too many Garbiels, Ariels, and Michaels. So, I gave everyone a choice. Play a game, a simple card game or board game, and get a chance to leave. Get another option.” Lucifer paused and smiled and took another word score with TITLES.

“After a while, even the demons asked for a go. It took some word-arounds and boundary setting for some to avoid blatant cheating, but eventually everyone left. They saved me a lot of work and such. But more importantly, they saved themselves. Went on their own terms.” Michael nodded, picking up a few tiles.

“So, like all the really shit people? Serial killers and dictators and murderers, they all got to play and move on too?” Lucifer shook his head and pointed to the door Michael had come from.

“Fuck, no. I’ve got standards. No, they’re in that hallway you came in from. Trapped in those portraits forever.”

“And you?” Michael asked. “That’s your portrait in there too, isn’t it? You and that woman.”

“You catch on quick,” Lucifer smiled. “Yeah, that’s mine. And her name was…is Lilith. In a way we’re trapped. I’m trapped here, manning the station. And she…” he paused and cleared his throat. “She chose the other option.”

“Death? Something worse than here?” Lucifer shrugged and laid down some tiles.

“For us, there are only two options. Here, or Oblivion. Eternal Darkness. No existence or escape. I chose here, she chose there.” Michael played another few tiles to make CATCH and dug out his replacement tiles.

“Two left,” he said. Lucifer nodded and looked at his own tile stand. Michael coughed and his mental fog and headache cleared a little. “So you’ve lost every game?” Lucifer smiled.

“I’ve thrown a few…thousand. But I’ve won some and offered rematches.” He emptied his stand to make the word CABLETOE, with a double letter score on the A. He dumped the last two tiles into his hand and smiled. “But by the looks of it, I don’t need to give you that offer.” Michael looked up, shocked. He hadn’t kept score but didn’t think he was anywhere near winning. He looked at his tiles, adding an S onto INK as a final turn.

“Your turn,” Michael said, looking up again. Lucifer was smiling but it was a proud and genial smile.

“I got nothing, see?” Lucifer held out his hand. Two tiles laid on it: Z and V. Michael looked down, stunned. There was no way, he thought. But neither of them were on the board and there was no logical room for them.

“Yep. Congratulations,” Lucifer said as they shook hands. Michael smiled. Lucifer snapped and a door appeared next to them – connected to nothing but patiently waiting. Lucifer gestured to it. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Good game.” Michael looked at the door, then down at the Scrabble board. He thought of all the possibilities of an afterlife he’d heard of and wondered how many more existed beyond those. But as he read a few of the words on the board, OCEAN, MATTER, SINK, AT, he had a realization.

“What if…he started then looked at Lucifer, in the hoodie and black sneakers. “What if we have another round?” Lucifer looked confused, then smiled a little.

“Same terms?” Michael shook his head. Lucifer looked into Michael’s eyes then smiled wider. He snapped his fingers again and the door vanished and the Scrabble board reset. “Okay,” he said, “but I get to pick the next game.”

– Darren Almgren