Governesses of Hell

     Seething behind her clenched teeth were sordid elixirs that declined to expire. They fermented on her tongue as her vision narrowed. Outside the inferno scope glided a silver ribbon. It weaved and bobbed before whirling clockwise toward an opaque brew. A spacious pasture packed with human remains, meaty chunks rotated along a brisk current surging en route for a cascading waterfall of gore. Another delivery had been made.

     Shifting her examination she tilted her head. Over the ledge figures cloaked in long attire bubbled to the surface. Rising from rocky goo they stretched their distorted limbs skyward and bore upon their hooded faces bone masks.

     Trembling fingers lay useless at her side. They curled and uncurled again as the sting of yesterday pierced her mind. With it memories stained her thoughts. She could have made it a few days ago when the moon was cloaked in clouds, but she chose not to take the chance. Now as she cast a look over her shoulder regret bit her eyes with hot stinging tears.

     She pulled back the bleeding fleshy blinds and gazed across a field of brimstone. Her hand pressed flat against the pane. It was hot to the touch and her eyes lowered. The muscle carpet was not much of a better sight but as her attention wandered she figured it was not so bad after all.

      Her eyelashes fluttered. Inside her it swirled like a cosmic storm with every piece of universe thrown in and then out again. She had promised herself long again she would never again summon it back into her will but as her focus on the eye incrusted door strengthened she felt it seep through and the door began to blister, steam and finally burst into flame. Her head jerked.

     "Stop," she whispered. It was more of a whimper really and as the begging continued to drip from her tongue the flames licked toward the ceiling. "Stop," she said this time with more power in her voice.

     Slowly the orange strands crawled downward and smothered themselves. Smoke rose in their place.

     Inara sat. In her fist wilted thick curly strands of brown hair. Her eyes, dull and distant, shifted to the crouching Simon who was examining the body with a single finger. He tilted his head upward, a smile on his face, and then stared at the open skull before him. A dark pool formed at his feet.

     She shivered, closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them Simon was staring then at her, his cold and curious stare burning her from inside out. She tried to look away. Anything else was more interesting than this, she figured and told herself over and over again as she surveyed the contents of the flesh decorated living room.

     Somewhere she knew smiles were expressing joy and laughter was soaring high into the air. Here she sat sure to never experience those things ever again.

     "He was a brute of a man," Simon said at last. His voice did not convey concern. It was a simple statement uttered in the same tone as someone telling the other they ran out of toilet paper. "He had it coming."

     She grimaced as tension settled over her. It sprawled a fishnet over the rest of her scalp and pulled tight. Her face twitched and for a moment a portion of it went slightly numb. Then it gave way to agony. Her eye felt as though it were about to explode and she imagined its jelly falling over her cheek and landing with a wet plop.

     "Inara," his voice came again. This time she thought she heard something like concern. "You do remember the job, right?"

     How could she forget? He reminded her every second of the day. It left bitter residue in her mouth. Even when she spit it would not leave. It spoiled her tongue and by the end of the end she discerned it would be a decayed slab of flesh hanging from her mouth. She was one of many governesses of hell.

     "I remember," she choked. "I remember, Simon."

     From the corner of her eye she saw him stand. "Then we better face the music and come to terms with this. If you don't I will do it for you. We have come too far for it to fall apart now."

      "Monsters writhe in your shadow," she spat.

      A smile broke his face in two. "So they do. But you know you have become much like the human condition, Inara. Sometimes it is easier to dive into the sex and filth that litters each pathetic soul. What they find as tasteful and interesting varies from person to person but under it all they strive for one thing and usually that one thing is what makes their species so damnable. Do you understand that?"

     She pulled herself up. "Humans are a disgrace only because they are allowed to be. That doesn't make them any less important."

     His smile faded. "And so then one who struggles to be heard is silenced by arrogance and ignorance. You so speak the language of apes." He knelt beside the soggy human skull. Gray matter still pumped out from the gaping chunk. He scooped fragments of bone and ooze into his leather clad palm and then let it swim through his fingers as he stared at her. "This is their life. It is nothing more than a stream rushing past us. Don't you find it frustrating to see them betray and boast themselves? They act as though they are the most intelligent and deserving bunch when really they all are doomed to meet the same fate as the dinosaurs before them."

      "Do not try to see what you have no business to," she warned. "Or you might reduce yourself to the humans in their constant need for knowledge."

       Her fingers curled into her palms. A step toward him sent a wave of knowledge rushing through her. He spoke his words not out of anger, but truth. Humans wore many faces and most of them were faces of deception. Sometimes it was easy to influence interest but often money spoke more languages than talent. She shifted her weight to one hip and folded her arms across her chest. It was the only thing she could do from stopping the slew of curse words from escaping her lips.

      "You may have forgotten what we are," he said. "But I haven't. The more you hear the better chance you will have of remembering the god fight. Am I right?"

     Inara paused. She balled her fists against his chest and gave a mighty shove. A few feet back he came to a rest, a cloud of dust swirling around him. As he looked up, eyes gleaming malice, a mouth broke open across his cheek. From its swollen and purple lips lashed a tongue. In a blink it retreated back and sealed shut, but the mounting heat blazing within his pupils continued with a strong pulse.

     Through fabrics weaved by nature's unyielding law, she felt her mind spasm. It bent around such things as light and sound to see beyond boundaries and limitations.

      "Simon," Inara called. “Hell will not wait.”

      Together they looked down into the night.