I bet you say that to all the girls.

Tears like chemicals; it burned to see her cry.

The binds that held Katharine shuttered with each fragile movement she made. The young woman lay huddled in a ball on her side, her legs pulled up to her chest and her head stretched away from her body.

Her breath wheezed and hitched in her throat, her chest would twitch with each haggard attempt. A whimper echoed around the cell as the shackles snatched at Katharine’s chafed skin. Her flesh had lost its rosy pink sometime ago, now it was a palled gray and her hair no longer glistened, instead it lay flat and matted over her shoulders.

She no longer fit the object of Enron’s desires; her pain, however, did.

The screams and cries of torment sent shivers down the beings spine, the very image of her broken skin, her manic and frightened stare, made him more excited than a child on Christmas morning. The angst that echoed in each hoarse and wasted wail replayed within his dreams; and the beast enjoyed them.

It shone in every pore of her skin, from her very essence, how scared and vulnerable she had become. Once so beautiful and angelic in the eyes of humanity, now she was ugly and fetid; to them maybe, but not to him.

The squalor of the ‘catacomb’ was a huge step down from Katharine’s celestial cloud.

Enron could only smirk.

“Where is He now, little one?” He would whisper as he stood at the bars.

She would cough and wheeze a reply, but she never managed a word let alone a sentence. He wondered; could she feel the eternal agony of those women before her? Or did she simply not realise what it was she were lying in? Years of waste, bile and vomit caked into the flagstones. Blood painted the walls, fingernails trapped within the brick work and hair matted between the chain links. The smell of decay was vile. It hit the back of the demons throat and burned his nose each time he entered that chamber. It was the smell of the devil. How could she not know?

Katherine’s comrades lay lonely and forgotten around her. It was so dark, save for the flicker of moonlight, and he often wondered had she even noticed them? Had she bothered to even greet his former dolls? Shake their cold hands and stroke their matted skulls?

The look in her fragile eyes, off-white and blood shot, told him all. She knew; Oh god, she knew. And she wished she didn’t.

“Forgive me Katharine, you deserved more than a devil’s death.”


For most it was the unexpected death or Enron’s superior that had inspired the change in the demon, but in harsh reality he had always been cruel and sick. Even in his brief time spent on earth, he had been vile.

Of course, all demons were corrupted and gave no second thought to heinous acts. They tortured deserving souls without so much as smidgen of remorse because, they simply, deserved it. However, Enron had always had a fascination for the innocence. He had always adored and had taken great pleasure in the torment of those who only deserve eternal bliss.

“Leave be the Angels in God’s hands and you creatures shall be left alone in hell.”

There were many more ‘rules’ similar. A demons home was in hell; their victims were those that fell from grace and those that had done wrong.

I am sure you can already see where Enron was going wrong.

Enrons place was on the fourth layer of hell; a baron waste land of a place, playing home to lost and exorcised souls. Ghostly mists hung in the air and the sky was various shades of orange and reds. Tall cliffs of black and gray shadowed the land creating a suffocating environment, no breeze swept through the air and shadows were cast in every direction.

Each soul that lingered there was neither evil enough for the lower levels nor peaceful enough for the upper. Almost like limbo, they remained forever in-between. No torture took place here for the beings were not ‘full’ enough. Instead they were ghost like and frightening, palled fragments of former selves.

By his side, Enron, along with the other demons, kept Plutus. It was a wolf like terror, originally from the third level which was the layer of the greedy and selfish. It was a demon of wealth, with a mane of snow white and two rows of silver teeth; top and bottom. Not a thing on it’s body was sculpted from the putrid soil of the forth layer, or any layer for that matter. The best furs, the most expensive jewels and the rarest metals were used in it’s creation; and not fraction less. It’s mighty talons, sculpted from the best cut of ruby, kept the periodically restless spirits in check and it’s emerald eyes missed nothing. Yet it bounded so swiftly across the darkened land, it’s hackles risen and, often, it’s jowls pulled up into a deep snarl. So silently it ran that not even God himself could have heard it.

From the highest window of the levels dark tower, Enron watched over the land, for he was what you might call its ‘ruler.’ Around him demons of every shape and size went about his business. Whether they are out in the grounds or below taking break.

Hell was not a job for demons, there was no toil only relaxation and enjoyment. Nothing was too strenuous nor was complaint ever made. Demons fought and made up and fighting to the death was common. The ruler was both respected and spoke to like an ally; Enron was not the type to demand higher status.

Yes, hell was certainly not what most expected.


The dark mist separated as yet another lost soul found its way in to the void. Enron watched, with mild satisfaction, from his iron throne. Beside him lay Plutus with his massive, ashen paws beneath his heavy head. He gazed up to Enron with sad, emerald orbs.

“Lugonu would have passed comment,” Enron began, “But I can merely smile.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. From his reflection in the window, Enron could clearly see the toll this ‘life’ was taking on him. He hadn’t changed a bit; and that was the problem. His hair was still an ebony, dreadlocked mass, his skin was still a pasty white and his body was still as tall and slender has it had always been. No change; not even a fraction. In hell, like heaven, no one aged. Immortality was the trend and those residing in the underworld wished for death.

Even he, the new ruler of the level, felt as if he would die.

“Plutus, you know not of the stress we, as demon princes, bear upon our shoulders. You see not the work we do and the things we dream.”

“I know enough to know that you are much too young and naïve to be in such a position sir. I know you have much ambition and talent. You, as a soul, should not be dead at all, but used as the expert possessor that you are.” Plutus paused as his master gazed, nonchalantly, upon him, “I mean no offence to you sir.”

“None taken. In fact, although at first I took this on with ease and excitement, I no longer feel the drive. I just wish to back in the ranks, playing poker off duty and drinking sour whiskey. Alas I am not one of them now and leadership is my duty; and I must fulfil it.”

With that final speech, Enron turned from the glass and walked swiftly to the hallway. His metal boots clanked upon the flag stones while Plutus’ shard talons clicked softly. The sound was filled with authority, as if a king were entering a room, empathised more by the silence of the tower.

“Sir. May I be so bold as to imply where we are going?” Plutus barked.

Enron shushed him and continued to move forward. They descended stair way upon stair way, passed many a room and greeted many a demon in all shapes and forms. The hallways became darker and darker as the walked, the passageways more narrow and the stairs even steeper.

“Master, I insisted you tell me our destination.”

“The bowels of the tower dear pet. The catacombs have been locked to me for centuries but now, finally, I have acquired the skeleton key.” He reached below his waist coat and pulled out a long and silver key which dangled from ruby beads. The key had three ragged teeth upon the end; the body was dented with small, detailed images and the circled tip was engraved with Greek.

Plutus whimpered, “What is your purpose in the Catacombs? I-if I could be so bold?”

Enron shot him a dark look, the violet of his eyes deepening, “No, Plutus. You may not.”

Plutus asked no more and simply followed the sinister character deeper into the tombs.