“Welcome to hell!” An inappropriately chipper voice said. I stumbled down the last steps of the narrow staircase, nearly toppling over. It had been claustrophobic and the blaring heavy metal music seemed to come from nowhere at all. The animals who chased me to the cave hadn’t followed me inside, but I was pretty sure that was the least of my problems. “I am Azrael, the Angel of Death, but you can call me Ozzy!” I realized I had heard this voice in the dark woods before the cave. There was so much to process. *I was in Hell? When did I die? What does this mean that I have a body and thoughts and*… I looked up and my thoughts stopped. There was an honest-to-goodness skeleton man in a black robe holding a scythe in front of me. It would be imposing, terrifying, awe-inspiring even, if not for the fact that he was smiling expectantly at me. Death. *How does a skeleton smile?* I thought. “Yeah, I don’t know myself, really” He puzzled in reply, “Oh, and uh, I can hear your thoughts here. Ah, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. As I said before,” he gathered himself, pointed a bony finger from beneath his robe, and said, more menacingly this time. His voice was immense and powerful. He raised his scythe, and slammed its base on the rocky floor. <span class="creepster-regular" style="font-family: 'Creepster'; font-size: 75px;">“Welcome to Hell!” </span> Fire shot out from behind him, heavy metal stung the air: fast guitar and hard drums. I was startled by the sound, looking around, more baffled than frightened. My mind swam with so many questions. “I know this is a lot,” The Angel of Death, Ozzy, continued in his regular voice, “But you have a long time to get used to this place! I have a quick orientation, then you’re off to eternal damnation. Please save your questions for the end. I’ll answer three questions if you behave.” I opened my mouth impulsively, then decided to wait. I gazed around while Ozzy explained. It was like I was dropped into a 1980s cartoon version of hell. The roof of the cave was not that far up, maybe 20-30 feet. The sandy red stone underfoot spread to the walls and hanging spires above. It looked like we were inside a small setback in the wall a cliff that fell off into the red light in the distance. The roof opened up to a much greater height just past the cliff. I could see some beasties far off flying. I couldn't see down the cliff from where I stood. It was impossible to see the other side of the cave, if there was one. Just more of the intoxicating red haze. Ozzy leaned his scythe against a rock. As he spoke he used his hands to gesture around like an Italian. "Okay, so. You are dead. You have been judged. You have been sent to Hell. You are going to be here forever now, tortured by demons. I am not a Demon. I am the Angel of Death, Azrael. You are in the First Circle, because of your Sin level. If I check your notes it looks like you have been damned due to..." A dusty, old scroll appeared in his hands from thin air. "*Falsus in Uno, Falsus in Omnibus*: Bearing False Witness? Oh, huh. Don’t see that one every day. Well, it is Hell! It takes all kinds." He chuckled as the scroll disappeared. I almost interjected. I hadn't remembered that I had died, let alone how I had died. Come to think of it, I couldn't remember much at all. I remembered my son. I remembered his face. His sweet eyes. His smile. I remembered everything about my son. My boy. Then it hit me. I remembered how I ended up here. A stabbing sadness pulled at my heart. Ozzy, or Azrael, or whatever continued as if he didn't notice. Like a flight attendant telling the passengers about all the safety features on the plane. "There are nine circles in total, starting at the top and moving down. In the first circle, the demons are all going to be minor. The suffering isn't really bad at all. It's like having a terrible job with a really bad boss and some sand in your shoe. But you're not going to get ripped apart again and again or anything. Silver lining there! You don't need to eat, sleep or evacuate your bowels down here. You are a spirit. That covers where you are, and how you got here." He paused taking a swig from a small flask with a skull for a cap, which he stashed back in one of his sleeves. "The last two parts are the Escape Clause and a final glimpse of Those Who Hath Survived Thee. These two parts are formalities. First, all spirits are entitled to leave at any time. This is a clause made by,” He pointed up and tilted his head and continued, ”Since you technically still have free will, even here. That's the end of the good news.The exit is at the bottom of the Ninth circle. No one, not even Lucifer, has managed to exit through the bottom. But I still gotta tell ya! The door to the Second Circle is right there. [And there are entrances in the City of the Damned]" He gestured to an extremely mundane, gray, metal door I hadn't noticed. It looked like one you might find in a mall parking garage. [Then he vaguely waved his hand towards the cliff] This was all just washing over me. *Did he just say I could leave?* He continued, "I did, but before you go and get excited—like everyone does—you should know what's on the other side of that door. There's a..." He pulled out the old timey scroll again, "Ouch! Minor Pit Fiend through there. He will eviscerate you. When he does eviscerate you—everyone tries at least once," He winked knowingly with his empty socket. The scroll disappeared in a puff. "You will return to a place you have not yet seen: A Pool of Sorrow. Your spirit-body will be reknit together with infernal energy, and you will come out in roughly the same shape you are in now, in a completely different location from where you were. From there, you will continue to suffer commensurate with your sins. I will take your three questions, and then we will view Those Who Hath Survived Thee." He pulled the flask again, and took a deep draw. I could see the liquid was black and appeared to boil. Ozzy made a satisfied sigh, then looked at me expectantly. I didn't know where to begin. I had so many questions, I was paralyzed with only three. It felt like I could so easily get it wrong. I wanted to address something from earlier first. "I didn't die of, uh, false witness or whatever," I said. Ozzy's empty sockets remained impassive. He tilted his head, and then the scroll appeared in his hand. Wordlessly, he closed the short distance between us, appearing almost to glide, and held the scroll in front of my face, its strange text facing me. "Look, I'm in a good mood today, so I won't count this as a question. You are here because the category of Sin, which as you can see, says *Falsus in Uno, Falsus in Omnibus*, which is Bearing False Witness" He pointed with a bone finger, but all I saw were sigils and strange markings in an evil-looking cursive. Then, the marks began to become legible where the bone touched. Indeed, the scroll did say *Cause of Damnation: Bearing False Witness* "Sometimes that is a completely different thing in the Human world. Maybe you died running from a fight. I dunno! I don’t have to tell you about all the categories of Sin, but I’m sure you’ll hear about em." He shrugged. “Anyway, on to your three questions and I will show you the last view of your loved ones that you will ever see.” His rapid changes in demeanor gave me whiplash. "Look, I don't know what this all is" I interjected, "But, I shot myself in the head after my son died. Is that the same as bearing false witness?" This seemed to break him from his practiced orientation. The robed skeleton’s shoulders dropped a whole foot. His hollow pits grew even more hollow. His tone was that of shock. “Suicide?” He said back to me. “No… That… Did you say son? I need to see something.” He walked swiftly to the side. “Follow me,” he beckoned. We walked to the wall of the cave next to where I had entered. I had been so disoriented, I hadn’t noticed a huge fountain built right into the cave wall. It had similar ornate sigils and script as the scroll, which hung for a moment, then suddenly I could read them. *Fountain of Sorrow.* It had a passing resemblance to the Trevi fountain in Rome, but instead of water it was full to the brim of thick red liquid. “Gaze into the fountain,” he said flatly. “I don’t…” I began, but Ozzy interrupted me. “GAZE!” His voice dark and commanding; filled with all the menace of the Grim Reaper. Pits of cold fire burned in his dark skull. I gazed. At first, nothing happened. Then my world began to waver. I grew dizzy, and suddenly my body was gone. I was no longer in Hell. I tried to look around in this strange disembodied form. I was floating above a familiar table: the breakfast nook of my home. *Look at who enters through the door.* The dark voice intoned in my mind. I followed the command, and looked to the doorway. I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see. My wife, er… widow, stepped into the kitchen. She was sobbing. She carried my three year old son in her arms. My son who had died one week before. My son, whose death broke me to the point of suicide. He was alive. Dante was alive. My boy was alive.