This story ponders the depths of hell to which so many of us subject ourselves to and offers a possible way out.
The speaker sat on a padded folding chair and wrung her large, hairy hands as she spoke. At one point, near the end of her speech, she had to uncross her legs, taking care not to reveal anything to the audience. Her groin still caused her physical as well as emotional discomfort but she didn't have the money to correct the problem.
"So tell everyone who gives you any trouble about it that you couldn't have chosen your lifestyle. You're not a masochist and yet every minute you spend in your body is hell. Your life is hell, and you wouldn't wish it on anyone. Perhaps that will shut the mouths of your tormentors... at least for a little while. Thanks for listening and good luck."
A dozen miserable looking teenagers wearing the wrong clothes all clapped politely and got up out of their folding chairs to leave. The high school auditorium filled with echoes of rubber-capped chair legs sliding on hardwood that faded along with the light of the setting sun.
The speaker stood and stayed in front of her chair, nervously straightening her skirt in the gathering darkness. A feeling of hopelessness and dread held her in place.
'That could've gone better,' she thought. 'If only I could reach them. Get them to understand. If only I had a better way with words.'
"Ya done fine, little lady," a hideous little being said, stepping from the shadows, its black hooves clip clopping on the floor. The thing had yellow eyes, thick purple fur, long black claws and two shiny, short black horns that almost reached the height of her faux breasts.
"Oh! You scared the hell out of me! Who... what are you?"
The thing laughed. "Ya sure got a way with words, miss."
"I... what?"
The thing shrugged. "Just listen. I came to tell ya that your good behavior continues to catch the eye of the big cheese. "
"Who?"
"You know." He pointed up. "The supreme dude upstairs. Or dame. It's never clear to me. I hear he or she changes his or her appearance to suit his or her fancy."
"I wish," she muttered.
"Maybe he or she's gender confused... like you," the thing suggested.
"I'm not confused. I know exactly who and what I am."
"Right. Sorry for my... confusion." He bowed and snorted with mild amusement.
She rolled her eyes. "You mentioned something about my good behavior catching God's eye?"
"Oy! We don't say that name down here, miss, if ya please."
"Oh. Sorry." As soon as she said that, some of her memories came flooding back. She died not so long ago, relative to geological time scales. But she couldn't remember the details of her death, only a feeling of extreme sadness... depression really. And she was still depressed. It wasn't a suicide but she felt as though she'd just given up on life, and it was all her body's fault. She sighed.
"Like I said," the thing continued. "Ya got somethin' comin' to you. We're lettin' ya out again for good behavior. Actually, forcin' ya out." He watched her zone out for a little while as her memories reasserted themselves. "Ya know the drill now. Right?"
She did know what the thing meant. She was trapped in hell, mostly, and once a year she had to be dragged up to heaven as a reward for some reason. The thing never explained why to her satisfaction. She only knew she'd rather stay and try to help her gender dysphoric sisters, for whatever good that did. She sighed again.
"How long this time?" she asked.
"Two weeks."
"Two weeks?!" She couldn't believe it. Last year it was only eight days.
"Yeah. The boss downstairs isn't happy. Ya set a bad example. But he can't do nothin' about it. Shame."
"Wait. What? The boss? He can't keep me here?"
"Oy! Weren't ya listenin'?"
"But you said the boss downstairs wasn't pleased with me. So why would he let me go?"
"Well," the thing spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a young child. "He isn't exactly all powerful. There are some things he can't control."
"Okay. Okay. But why two weeks? Or eight days. It all seems so arbitrary. Why do I have to come back at all?"
"You really are thick. The boss has to give his permission. Right? He runs the place after all. Can't go losin' valuable... um...."
"Slaves? Goods?" she suggested.
The thing scowled. "Now you're just bein' insultin'."
"Sorry."
"Right. Where was I? Oh yeah. Think of hell as a company. A company can't go losin' employees whenever the whim strikes them. They have to schedule vacations and make sure everything keeps runnin' smoothly in their absence. That sort of thing."
'Yeah,' she thought. 'Gotta have a steady supply of souls to torture for sick, perverted entertainment. What kind of sick being could get pleasure out of suffering?'
"I heard that!" the thing sputtered and then quickly calmed itself. "I kinda read minds ya know."
She blushed.
"You might be surprised, miss. It's not all like that. We don't all get enjoyment out of it. It's punishment pure and simple. Never mind those types that actually like to dish it out... or receive it. Yeah. So think about hell as a special kind of company. Think of it as a kind of prison, with the majority of the inmates deservin' what they get."
"Yeah," she said. "But for eternity."
"Not always. You're gettin' out for good behavior," he said with a smirk.
"Temporarily," she sighed.
"Look. Why do you do this every time? The boss is lettin' ya go. You get to prance around upstairs for two weeks and then you come back down here for your counselin'. What's the big deal? Don't ya like bein' a real woman? I don't get it."
She didn't get it either. Again, she couldn't quite understand her situation. All her life, her body put her through hell. Then she died and yet she continued to put herself through hell. It was like it became too firmly ingrained in her psyche. 'Old habits die hard' she thought. 'But what's with the supernatural tug-of-war over my soul?'
It seemed odd. She got attention from both the dark and the light, and she actually divided her time between heaven and hell. Were the forces of good and evil battling within her? And was she being rewarded for her attempts to save other damned transgendered souls? She certainly meant well, but did she actually do any good? Or was it only because she tried? Can damned souls be saved?
"Come on, miss. Enough torturin' yourself." The thing gently led her to a beam of pure, soft white light and nudged her into it, taking great care not to put too much of its own body into the light. "Just follow the light, miss. Follow it to the Great Upstairs. Ya can't miss it."
"Okay," she whispered.
She looked up and started to rise. It was true. She was going to heaven. She didn't feel like she deserved it though and she started to cry.
"See ya in two weeks!" the thing called up to her.
She didn't hear it. She only heard the distant singing of joyful beings, and she cried her eyes out.
"Here now. What's this?" A being with masculine features, in a long, flowing white robe looked down at her with great compassion. "Why so sad, miss? This is heaven. Come on. Come here, child."
She scuffed her feet over to him and they embraced in a perfect hug. The heavenly man made soothing noices as he rubbed her back. He reminded her of her father. He even smelled like her father.
She almost smiled then, until she noticed she had real breasts. She was all woman again, inside and out. She should've been overjoyed, but all she could feel was guilt. How could she enjoy herself when the sisters she left behind were in hell?
"I'm sorry. I'm a bit upset about my... situation." She sniffed and composed herself.
"It's okay. I understand," he said, smiling. "Let's get you settled in so you start enjoying yourself as soon as possible."
The woman didn't like the sound of that. She didn't really want to enjoy herself. 'How can they all be so happy with so much suffering going on?' she wondered.
"If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd like to speak to someone in charge. Is that possible?"
The man stopped and rubbed his chin. "In charge of what exactly? What do you mean?"
"Well, first off, I'd like to find out more about my situation and hopefully make some changes. If that's possible."
"This is highly irregular. Can't you just settle in and think about it?"
"No. I can't. I've already wasted more time than I like. I've thought about it long enough. I'd like some answers, please."
The man's eyebrows raised at first, but soon lowered and his look turned sad. "I suppose you want to see about spending more time up here then."
"Actually, I'd like to go back and resume working with my sisters. They need me. They need help."
"Really? That is most unusual."
"Is it? It shouldn't be. Do you like people to suffer? Don't you want to help them?"
"I... we don't have any suffering here."
"I'm suffering. Weren't you just trying to comfort me?"
"Oh. Uh. Yes. You're a special case though."
"And is that a bad thing? Do I make you uncomfortable?"
"I didn't like to see you cry. And I take it you've been referring to your sisters as you call them. I don't think we can do anything for them. I'm sorry."
"You might not be able to, but I can. I've been trying anyway. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"
"Yes. That's true. You're not going to give up on this, are you?"
"Nope."
"Very well then. Please follow me."
The man started walking and soon disappeared into what appeared to be a dense fog. She followed him into it and almost instantly found herself walking through a field of wildflowers. The sights and smells were fantastic.
'This type of environment would be a great morale booster for my sisters.' She sighed.
After what felt like only a few minutes, the scenery suddenly changed underfoot. She found herself walking on a hardwood floor, approaching a large, imposing white desk, the surface of which was about waist high. She looked left and right, and up. The walls and ceiling were all made of fog. That was strange. But even stranger, the man who she'd been following sat behind the desk.
"Is all this really necessary?" she asked him in a huff. She felt like they were wasting valuable time.
"Perhaps," he answered, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I just wanted to be sure that you were sure. I've had great hopes for you."
She blushed at that, and suddenly had the idea to look for a name plate on the desk. She didn't see one. "Um... who exactly are you? I'm sorry. We sort of skipped the introductions."
"I have many names." His eyes twinkled.
"Exactly how many is many?"
"Does it really matter? Names can be so limiting. Don't you think? Do we really need names? We've gotten along fine so far without them."
"Okay. Sure. Let's just get started. I'm assuming you're the one I can talk to."
He nodded and said, "Yes."
"Great." She almost smiled again. She had to get away, and soon. The place was addicting. Then she suddenly started remembering her last trip and how much she dreaded leaving. "Hey!" she blurted out.
"Yes?"
"Oh. Sorry. I think I just realized something important."
"And what's that?"
"I suffered quite a bit the last time I was here. I couldn't stop counting the days until I had to leave and it drove me crazy. I didn't want to leave but at the same time, I wanted to get back and help my sisters."
"That is unfortunate," he agreed.
"So if I may, I'd like to know why I forget about being here when I'm back helping my sisters. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Wouldn't it make more sense to have me forget about going back when I'm here so I don't worry about having to leave?"
"Do you really want to forget about your sisters?"
"Well, no. No! Of course not. I'm just trying to understand."
"Are you sure you want the truth? Are you sure you can handle it?"
"Um... yes. I think so. Sure. Please?" She didn't sound very convincing but her eyes pleaded for answers and he couldn't resist.
"Very well. You only have yourself to blame because you continually sabotage any chance for happiness. It's the same reason why you ended up down there in the first place. You forget about heaven and only remember hell because it makes you miserable."
She started crying. The truth truly did hurt sometimes. But she wasn't going to stop. Not when she felt like she was making progress.
The man pushed a box of tissues to the edge of the desk and she helped herself, dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose. "I'm very sorry," he said. "I really only want the best for you."
"Thanks," she told him.
"You're welcome. So is there anything else? You mentioned wanting to go back."
"Yes. Yes, of course. I do want to go back. Right away. I really appreciate this body but I can't truly enjoy it knowing that my sisters will never get the same chance."
"Are you sure about this?"
"Yes." Her lower lip quivered. She'd be giving away a lot but her sisters meant more to her than her own selfish desires.
"Very well then." He smiled.
"You seem quite happy about sending me back to Satan."
"Oh, dear. Please don't say that name here. It... upsets some of us."
"Oh. Right. Sorry."
"As for my smile, it's because I'm quite proud of you. And I'd like to make you a little proposition...."
She sat primly on a padded folding hair, her dainty, well-manicured hands gesturing as she spoke.
"As you can see," she said, pointing back to herself with both index fingers, "miracles can happen. And they're not just limited to me. Anyone can turn their life around... anyone... with a little help and a lot of compassion, for ourselves and each other."
Everyone's eyes went wide when several nearby creatures howled in apparent pain. But the audience all recovered quickly and laughed it off. Spirits were just too high that evening.
"That's all for now," she told them. "Thanks for listening."
A dozen teenage boys in skirts clapped enthusiastically and then chatted with each other as they slowly and gracefully got up to leave. The speaker had given them a lot to talk and think about.
"Excuse me," the woman said as she stood up. "You there! The one in the purple skirt! Do you have a few minutes? I'd like to talk to you."
A short boy with long, blonde curls stopped and pointed to himself, mouthing, "Who? Me?"
"Yes. You!"
He skipped over to her, smiling the whole way, though in spite of the way he looked, he still thought of himself as a boy. He had a long way to go.
"How would you like to be my assistant?" she asked him.
"Assistant? What would I do?"
"Oh! There's so much to do. So many places to go. So many people to see. I need a personal assistant to help me keep track of it all."
"I'd love to help then," the boy said in a small voice.
"I'd also like someone to share my good fortune with," the woman told him. "We could compare notes. Make things better. Would you like that?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Oh. Please. Don't call me ma'am. My name is...." She almost blurted out her former name, the one she'd used a lifetime ago. "My name is Barbara. So, please. Call me Barbara."
"Okay... Barbara. You can call me Susan."
"Well, Susan. Nice to meet you. I'll expect you here an hour earlier next time so I can fill you in and get you started."
"Yes, ma'am. I mean Barbara. Thanks!" He ran off to join his friends.
The woman stood alone in the auditorium, thinking happy thoughts. The lights remained cheerfully bright. Everything seemed cheerful. Everything except a little thing that lurked in what few shadows it could find.
"Oy! I hope you're quite pleased with yourself," the thing said, clip clopping towards her. "Ya scared every last one of us for miles around tonight. I'll be so... relieved when your two weeks are up."
"Oh. Sorry about that. But I really am pleased. Thanks."
The thing winced. "Ya didn't have to confirm it."
"Yes, I did." She smiled and the thing cringed. She couldn't help notice and her heart went out to it. "Do you mind if I ask you a couple questions?"
"Uh. Maybe." The thing turned its head and pretended to study the stage curtains.
"Did you... were you ever... human?"
The thing looked shocked for a moment. Then it laughed, a rich belly laugh that echoed through the hall.
"I'll take that as a no," she said. "But I had to ask."
The thing stopped laughing and cocked it's head, curious for the next question.
"So then. Just one more thing."
"Yes?"
"Would you like to be?"
"Like to be what?" It looked a little nervous.
"Like to be human?"
"What?! I... don't know. No! I gotta go." The little thing noisily trotted across the floor and disappeared into a large, shadowy fold of stage curtain.
The woman sighed. 'I won't give up on you,' she thought. 'I won't give up on anyone, especially not myself. Not even after my two week vacation in hell.'
*** The end ***
© 2012 by Terry Volkirch. This work may not be replicated in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder). All Rights Reserved. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this story are fictional and belong to me. Any resemblance of any part of this story to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental.
