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Helltown Fallen soldiers
A boot tramped a few strains of grass, followed by a multitude of slow pacing footsteps. It was night, in a dark area, devoid of all light except the full moon shining upon the gray tombstones. The group of men moved swiftly, silent and serious. They divided themselves into teams, the strongest of which carried a row of wheel barrels. Dozens of them rolled down a bumpy terrain, filled with clanging oval devices. The young men looked no different from those you would see in a bar or your favorite coffee house. They looked no different, or distinguished themselves from the rest of society in any visible way. They were lean and tall and carried themselves with pride. The youngest among them, a man around 20, was last in line. He watched them with awe, still in shock that they had accepted him into their mysterious, elite brotherhood. The leader of the bunch, a man whose expression made him seem much older than he really was, halted, signaling the other to do the same. They slowly put the
Helltown The devious plan
"Oh for!" Oliver uttered, rubbing his frustrated said. "Pay attention. You place your finger over the picture, like so and then swipe to the left or right to change the picture. It's that simple!" he yelled at a skin and bones figure with a white beard longer than his legs. He was one of many squatting around him, each with a device of their own. The damned soul looked at him with his milky eyes and tried to do as instructed. The newcomer growled irritated. "No! Don't move your figure from the glass. Keep it on," he said, grabbing the ancient man's hand and accidentally breaking off his index finger. "Um, sorry about that," Oliver uttered as the man hissed at him. In the meantime, the hog convoy was entering the city gates. They were greeted by Basil and his work buddies. In their hands, they had pens and notebooks, ready to list all the earthly cargo. Once the job was done, Basil took two and went home. An oval glass device placed in a metal casing was dropped on the living room ta
Helltown Family fun
To drown it all, her mind went to a much happier time."I have decided. We attack tonight. Get the men ready," a male voice with a slight accent said."Yes, my leader. I shall do as you say," another replies. "What about the women and children?""Hmm, give the good-looking ones to the men. The rest, do whatever you wish," the first authoritarian voice stated."As you wish, Sir," his second-in-command said.The voices appeared to be coming from the bubbling water, boiling in a pot on a modern stove. Tiffany held her head over the vapors. Now 44, she carefully listened, holding her eyes closed. The steam was making her face red, still she persevered. Once getting all the info needed, the cook went over to her laptop. The screen turned on with a news article on a notorious millitant group which caused problems all over the world. This time their focus was set on Africa. She looked around, typed a few things and pressed a button. The printer spat out a paper with a picture of a sly-lookin
Helltown Do it!
"Do it! Bash his head in. You know he deserved it!" a toothless, noseless creature yelled into the light-bringing device. The image showed a pair of feet hitting a defenseless dog. The poor pup squealed and barked, unable to escape a gang of eight. His owner was already lying on the ground, with his head in a pool of his own blood. The hell dweller relished every moment of the torture, for it was his favorite thing to do in his adolescence. The creatures were spread evenly, each with their personal glow glass and a cut bone to measure their progress. Unlike the city dwellers, they did not need an incentive to work. Mere thrills of seeing someone else suffer for a change was enough. An especially sinister figure giggled with glee, illuminated by the glass. In it, a grandmother of a particularly Christian household was beating the shit out of her rowdy children. "Oh how I love this," he sneered making fluttery movements with his fingers. "The goodie two-shoes are the best. It takes lon
Helltown Working for Helltown
"And what are your interests, gorgeous?" a hunky male voice said to a smiling 19-year-old. "Well I like shopping, my cat Pudgy and skateboarding," she said with a flirty giggle. "So, you have a pussycat. I’d love to play with your pussy," he whisperer, making the girl blush. Cass watched through the elliptic glass as the girl played with her hair. The man handed her a pen, which she used to sign a contract. "Congratulations, hot stuff. You are now a part of Sluts and Ass. Shooting starts tomorrow so, make sure to wash yourself well." The hell dweller changed the scene. She found herself increasingly working with the sex industry. It felt easier, she convinced herself. It did not involve blood or violence. At least not most of the time. It was not much of a sin, she thought, because it gave people comfort and pleasure. And it's online so no physical complications. And the girl could earn a good pay as well. It's not in the old days when they were literally slaves. Right? After Bas
Helltown Peace and prosperity?
Tiff was grading some papers. Now in her 50s, with the kids living their own lives, she had enough spare time to pursue teaching. More as a hobby rather than necessity. In good shape and groomed, most would shave a decade off her life. Sam was a different story. Now completely gray, he entered with the mail. "Hello, dear. How is work?" Smooching her husband on the lips, she looked down making single straight strokes with her red marker. "Unbelievable. You cannot believe how many Tiffanys I have in class," she said scoffing at an answer. Still smiling, he leaned in and whispered. "No matter how many of them are, you will always be unique to me." Tiff watched him, pouty yet flattered. "Aren’t you the sweetest," she said, air kissing him and turned her attention to the paper pile. "Anything for me?" "Actually, your old pals at the Peace and Prosperity Org have sent you another greeting card," Sam joked waving another envelope, this one even more beautiful than the last. "I'm kind of
Helltown Brainstorming
A clawed hand swept the glass covered floor. Cassandra was in the bedroom with her face covered in bandages. "Don't worry, my dear. It will heal soon," Basil comforted her, holding her head near his chest. "Did that rude angel scare you?""Such force. I have never felt something like that. And the sword. It's like a supernova hit."Basil cackled pleased, with his chest moving. "That must be the heavy artillery," he said with a vicious smile."How can you laugh at something like?" she uttered, dumbfounded. The damned soul chuckled with a vicious smirk. "Angel like that are only sent on special missions. God must be getting worried. Do you know what that means?""No, what?" she blinked.Her husband leaned in with a grimace which made him unrecognizable. "It means the overlord’s plan is working.""Oh.""Yes, my dear. Very soon, this smelly wasteland will only be a distant memory. Before long, we will live in abundance human monarchs could only dream off," he grinned, delighted."Sounds
Helltown All according to plan
As the music blasted, she let out a puff of smoke, placing a hot iron on the board. The song playing in that particular moment she randomly found online. The rhythm was so upbeat and the message everything's-going-according-to-plan hit so well that she couldn't help but play it on repeat. Her husband was suddenly called that morning and told urgently that he has to come to work. She did not mind. After all it was better that he did not see this.Large piles of white linen were placed all around her as she carefully ironed and folded them all over the large open area. By the time, the clock turned 3, she had placed the ironed covers all around her living room, dancing and singing to the loud beats.A man knocked on her door. Not having anyone greet him, he entered the front door with confidence. He walked into the living room and observed the carefree woman doing her chores."We finally meet," he said calmly. Tiff still near her ironing board glanced at the man. He was in his mid-50s,