Evan sunk to his knees as he looked out across the hell-scape in front of him, as far as the eye could see in every direction. Humans at the non-existent mercy of red-skinned demons, inflicting the most dire tortures they could imagine. Flailing limbs broke the surface of boiling black tar, pushed back under by barbed tridents. People hanged by the neck from trees were flayed, the peels of skin shoved back into gaping mouths that gasped for air. One giant demon had a sinner in its hands, slowly eating them alive as their body regenerated anything that was swallowed.

He was within the safety of a glass elevator, plummeting toward the ground.

If it’s that bad up here, what awaits me below? he thought. Why am I even here? I was a good person! This must be some kind of mistake…

Everything went black as the elevator went underground.

Minutes later, it stopped.

DING!

The doors slid open. Ahead was an immaculate, endless corridor with countless sets of parallel doors on either side. Each door had a little gold plaque.

“You have arrived at basement level 672. Please, exit the elevator,” an automated voice said.

A demoness wearing a suit stepped into sight, holding a clipboard. Aside from the red skin and horns, she wouldn’t look out of place in an office.

“I’d hurry, if I were you. The next stop for that elevator is the place we demons get sent when we screw up,” she said. “If you thought Hell was bad for humans, down there would really show you how lucky you all are.”

Wordlessly, Evan stood and stumbled out of the elevator. The doors slid shut behind him.

“Wh-why?” he asked.

“Why what?”

“Why am I here? In… in…”

“In Hell? That should be easy enough to find out! Evan Smith, right?”

He nodded.

The demoness pointed to a list titled ‘NEW ARRIVALS’ with her pen and started moving down, murmuring Evan’s name over and over.

“Ah, here we are. Several hundreds of counts of wearing cotton and polyester socks. That’s a big no no, I’m afraid.”

“That’s it? That’s why I’m in Hell? Surely this is a joke.”

“Nope. No joke.” She cleared her throat. “Leviticus 19:19 reads, ‘You are to keep My statutes. You shall not breed together two kinds of your cattle; you shall not sow your field with two kinds of seed, nor wear a garment upon you of two kinds of material mixed together.’”

Evan’s jaw dropped. Eternal damnation for that?

“That’s insane.”

“Tell me about it! There’s so many outdated rules in that old book.”

“Is there someone I can talk to about this?”

The demoness sighed. “I’ll call my manager down, you can have a word with him. Fair warning, the last sinner to complain to him about an anarchic bible passage had the words carved into her skin with a white-hot needle, one hundred thousand times. Whenever they ran out of space they gave her a sandpaper scrub down and started over.”

“Wait! There’s n-no need for that. I retract my complaint.”

“Smart move.”

Evan glanced at the ceiling, then down the corridor.

“What is this place? I was expecting Hell to be what I saw on the way down. But then there’s this place which just seems odd.”

“Everyone says that. A few hundred years ago, Big S down in the Ninth Circle decided that all the gore and fire was getting pretty stale. All the sinners already here remained in Old Hell, which is what you saw from the elevator. This is New Hell. We have a department of demons that create personal hells for each and every occupant and place them behind those doors.”

“Personal hells? And there’s one made specifically for me?”

“That’s right! You catch on quick,” the demoness said, smiling.

“What’s mine?”

“That’s a secret. I wouldn’t want to spoil it! Now, if you wouldn’t mind, please follow me. There’s apparently been a plane crash back on Earth, and we’re expecting a lot of fresh sinners. If possible, I’d like to grab some lunch before they arrive. Chop chop!”

After a moments hesitation, Evan followed her. She set a steady pace, her high heels clacking with every step.

“These doors, there’s so many of them,” he said, reading names on the plaques.

“Millions on this floor alone. The original plan was to keep all personal hells on basement level 666, for thematic reasons, but it became clear that having them all on the same floor was impractical. The journey there became a form of torture in itself. So we expanded. Regardless, we’ll be walking for a while, and I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

“I can see why you’d consider this a torture. We’ve only just set off and already I’m bored.”

The demoness giggled. “Relax. I happen to be considered one of the most fun demons around, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you died—again—of boredom before we reach your door. Fortunately, I’ve picked up a book from the library. I’ll read it out whilst we walk.”

She showed him the book before opening it. ‘Tales of the Tiny 3: Sins of the Sons’ was written on the front cover. The art was of a man, cowering, surrounded by several giant bare feet.

“It’s a fun series, an anthology,” she said. “The first one was the most popular by far. Sadly the author got fed up during the second volume, after he was unhappy with how one of the stories turned out. Other works of his often go unfinished, which is incredibly annoying, and everyone thought he was gone for good. Then he released this, which was a nice surprise.”

“Sounds like you’re quite the fan.”

“Yep! Okay, no more talking now. I might let you ask questions between stories.”

The demoness opened the book, flipping through the first few pages.

“Here’s ‘Three Wishes’…”