Suzy's Inferno

Suzy accidentally drops her toy bouncy ball into hell. But she wants it back.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Suzy cried, waving her stubby little arms in circles as she waddled towards her mother.

            Her mother peeked over the top of the fashion magazine she was reading.

            “Yes, dear?”

            “I dropped my bouncy ball!”

            Suzy’s mother scanned the green expanse of their backyard. “Where, dear?”

            “In the portal that leads to hell,” Suzy said, pointing urgently to the spinning, shrieking red vortex smack-dab in the middle of the yard.

            “I’ll get you a new one tomorrow,” her mother promised idly, readjusting her sunglasses and then returning to her magazine.

            Suzy looked impatiently at the yawning pit, from which the screams of the damned issued forth in a dissonant cacophony. Things were always falling down there, she thought crossly. Why couldn’t they have a nice, normal yard like their old house? But no, Mommy and Daddy were too pleased with the neighborhood and the local school district.

            She approached the vortex and knelt down at its edge, still mad at her mother. She couldn’t wait for a new bouncy ball! This one was special. It was her favorite. It was made of clear plastic with sparkly confetti in it, with a picture of Dora the Explorer.

            Eventually she reached the inevitable decision. Suzy looked back at her mother, who was still occupied, and swung her legs into the murky, screaming abyss. Then, without so much as a backwards glance, Suzy jumped into hell.

            It was a little scarier than she thought it would be, spinning through the boiling nothingness, feeling as though her limbs were being torn asunder. But at least it wasn’t as bad as going to the dentist. Suzy was tossed around for a few moments before the portal spewed her out in a dark, vast cavern. Its only occupant was a devil in nerdy glasses, seated at a wooden desk, typing at his computer.

            Suzy walked up to the devil and waved her hand in the air as high as it would go. “Mister! Mister!”

            The devil stopped typing and looked down at the child.

            “Name?” he inquired.

            “My name is Suzy Rosenthal, and I live on 322 Block Avenue,” Suzy recited, swaying back and forth on her feet, her hands clasped behind her back.

            The devil typed something and then looked back at her.

            “Cause of death?”

            Suzy shook her head, her brown curls bouncing delicately.

            “No, I’m just looking for my favorite bouncy ball,” she explained. “It fell down here while I was playing.”

            “Bouncy ball, hmm?” the devil asked absentmindedly, clacking away at his keyboard, clicking with his mouse. “I didn’t see it. But I did just go for coffee, so maybe it bounced by when I was gone. You can head on in, and look around if you’d like.

“Watch out for the centaurs and Minotaur and demons and stuff,” the desk devil added, still staring blankly at the computer screen.

            Suzy nodded. She headed down the wide tunnel entrance, past the cardboard sign propped up against the wall proclaiming ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE. She hopped over a broken good intention, noting that the walkway really needed to be re-tiled, and continued into hell.

            When Suzy reached the end of the tunnel, she found herself in an even bigger cavern. The ceiling was tall, but below her was something like a hollow cone drilled into the earth, with tiers that reminded her of seats in a stadium. Tiny little figures that must have been people were doing all sorts of interesting things: pushing boulders, running across deserts, turning into lizards and so forth. She crawled close to the edge and looked down, trying to get a better look.

            “Are you with the tour?” somebody asked.

            Suzy stood up and saw a short demon in a blue uniform, holding a stick with an orange flag. Behind her was a big group of people with cameras and fanny packs.

            “I’m looking for my bouncy ball,” Suzy said.

            The demon thought.

            “You know, I think I saw something roll by not too long ago. If I were you, I’d check level seven, with the murderers and dictators. We’ll be stopping there ourselves,” she continued, shouting now, and turning back to her tour group, “after we stop at Pandemonium for lunch.”

            Suzy had no time to waste. She hurried over to the escalators running up and down the steep slopes of the pit, because that many stairs would have been too evil even for hell.

            Halfway down the escalator, Suzy was approached by a hideous flying lizard with the face of a woman.

            “You there,” it screeched, “are you the girl looking for her bouncy ball?”

            “Yes!” Suzy yelled excitedly, glad to finally meet somebody helpful.

            “I saw it a while ago in the river of blood, but Attila kicked it further down. Keep going!”

            Suzy rode the escalator for a very long time. The space around her grew darker and colder as she descended, and she began to wish that she’d brought mittens or a jacket along with her.

            She eventually reached the very bottom of hell. The ground here was like a great big skating rink, with people floating inside like the confetti in her bouncy ball.

            “What are you doing here, mortal?” a booming voice demanded. Suzy saw before her a terrifying beast, three-headed and monstrous, foaming at the mouth, the fallen angel himself and ruler of hell standing there - the Devil.

            “I want my bouncy ball!” Suzy whined.

            “Ah,” said the Devil. “That one?”

            He gestured to a spot deep in the ice. Suzy looked closer. Through the twisted layers of ice, she could just make out the smiling face of Dora the Explorer.

            “My bouncy ball!” Suzy rejoiced. “But how do I get it out?”

            Suzy rushed to the spot on the ice just above it and tried stomping and jumping.

            “Foolish, naive child,” the Devil said. “Do you not know?”

            Suzy looked up at the three deformed faces questioningly.

            “That toy,” he continued, “was responsible for the deaths of nearly two thousand people during a civil war in 1863. It then fled to California and started a drug cartel, smuggling billions of dollars’ worth of cocaine across the border, before once again fleeing… where it eventually found itself… at number 322 Block Avenue.”

            Suzy stared down at the clear plastic, hovering beneath her, suspended in ice. She felt a chill unlike anything she had experienced before.

            “Bouncy ball,” she whispered, a tear running down her cheek. “I trusted you.”

            The Devil saw her begin to weep.

            He sighed.

            “Come on, kid,” he said wearily. “I’ll buy you something from the gift shop.”

Reviews

[Indra's Child]

I genuinely stopped having the need to get as high when I started reading your stuff.

[Jophiel]

Once again, a creative and compelling story. I enjoyed reading about the mundane life of the eternally damned, and the portal to hell that averted not a single eye was a welcome addition.

[Glen Weimann]

Hi Devon. You read one of my poems so I thought I'd take a look. Oh my! You write very very very well. I was engaged from the start to the finish. Your imagination and the pace of your descriptions were wonderful. As it so happens I was in a Dentist Waiting Room in the week and read part of a writing circle magazine which included short story prizewinners. I read the winner and another Top 5 placed one. In both cases they had good pace and engagement and .. a kicker in the last couple of paragraphs. Yours is a beaut! Quite thought-provoking given all you've covered prior to this about bad people transformed into other things. Was the ball always a ball? Is it really a ball even today? You also tell the story with gentle lightness and a hint of a smile, and Suzy's lack of overt fear and instead her focus on the ball just carry us through. The idea of a tour round hell is sublime. "Wednesday 10.00 Hades; lunch included; return not guaranteed but possibly 16.00. Price: One soul. No concessions."

Regards
Nigel