Broth Of Oblivion

Hell was no picnic, but it wasn't so bad. She thought it would be a nightmare, complete with everything a person feared most. She'd been apprehensive when they'd strapped her to the gurney and the chemicals of execution had begun to trickle through her veins. But really, Old Nick's underworld realm could have been a lot worse.

To her relief, there were no cockroaches. That's what she'd been afraid of, imagining herself stuck in a bottomless pit teeming with the filthy, disgusting insects and no way out. Now, that would have been true torment!

Surprised to have been selected for reincarnation so quickly, she peered down the line of waiting souls and saw a small demon handing everyone a cup of soup before ushering them into the holding area. Anxious to be on her way, she shoved to the front.

"Drink this!" commanded the little imp. She laughed. "I know the story of Persephone," she told him. "I'm being given another chance and I'll be damned if you'll trick me out of it!"

"It will erase the human memory of your previous existence," insisted the tiny devil. "It's for your own good." She peered into the steaming cauldron. "Forget it," she laughed. "I'd tell you to go to Hades, but you're already here!"

She awoke in semi-darkness, surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of flattened, slippery bodies with shiny leather-like casings. They twitched their long feelers in welcome. Silently screaming, she scuttled deeper into the drywall on six spindly legs covered with bristles.

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