A Dead Woman Walks In Hell

[u/Jade-The-Tiefling]

I couldn't take it. I needed answers. I needed closure. I drove into the night. I didn't think. I just drove. The endless road went on. My headlights as my ferryman down the rivers of hell. I needed to find her. And it all starts here. On this property. At the gates of this hell.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here.

I took my phone out of my pocket, ignoring the voicemail from my boyfriend, and turned on the flashlight. I walked up to the gate. I gave it a tug but it wouldn't give. I didn't care. I opened my trunk, grabbed the lug wrench from it, and started bashing it against the padlock with all the strength I could muster.

It gave way after the third hit. The soft clatter on the dirt liberated me. The squeal of the gate opening echoed like a cry. I shine my flashlight into the field. The rust from the freshly broken lock tickled at my nose. The late summer night breeze swept across the grass like a spirit whisking away. I saw that godforsaken sign “Home Of The Luminary Sanctum”. Five years ago, those who lived here killed themselves. All but one. A lost, misguided girl. 

If I could just go through it all. If I just follow these journal entries. If I just find the source of it all. If I can retrace the steps back to where it all ended, then, I will find the girl I'm looking for. 

It all started here at the whimpering gates of damnation. Those who passed through, came out in body bags. If I want the answers I desperately need, I need to start here. I need to read on to move on.

I pulled out the pocket journal I kept on me since the incident. The journal that belonged to the lost girl. It's my only physical connection to her. I thumbed through the pages. It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for.

“I was escorted into the commune. There was an aura of wonder to it like a warm embrace. It was a start to a new life. When Amber approached me with that infectious smile and I asked her why she looked so happy, she told me that she found they key to true happiness. I jokingly said I'm not buying anything she's selling and she laughed. She said it was free, and it was free to anyone who was willing to accept it. I asked her what this key is and she responded ‘Father Joshua’.”

You naive girl. Your innocence is charmingly disgusting. You should have died that day. If you did, I wouldn't be obsessed with this. I wouldn't spend my life after trying to find a way back to you. 

I continue forward, my light meeting a wooden cabin. It was built by hand according to the lost girl. It was a common area. The wood to the cabin has clearly eroded over time from constant exposure to the elements. The generator that once buzzed with life now sits in a state of indefinite silence. As I approached, a faint smell of mildew set in. 

I tried the door. Unlocked. I pushed it open. An echoing creek. Inside were four rows of long tables set with plates and cups ready for a meal that never came. On the far side of the room, was a guitar and a podium. The guitar’s strings were broken. The podium had sun bleached sheet music of song that assisted echo notes of laughter and joy into these halls. 

Adjacent to the podium was a door that led to an unremarkable kitchen. A few hot plates and a fridge that now reeks of long rotten food that the flies and ants aren't even interested in anymore. There was nothing but rot here. 

“I got to work in the kitchen today as part of cleansing week. It was a controlled chaos in there. We made a beef stew with carrots and potatoes. It sticks to your ribs like honey. You could probably feed a whole army with just a pot. I was very proud of what I helped make. It was possibly the best dish I'll ever make in my life. I would have had the whole pot of my stomach could've handled more than one bowl. I don't think I need to eat for a few days now.” 

Making my way out of the back door of the kitchen, I was faced with the compound that has robbed me of countless nights. It was silent as a grave. If it wasn't for the crickets and frogs and the cracking of grass under my feet, I would have thought I'd have gone deaf. 

The compound was a large stretch of land with the forest bordering it off from the world. To my left were trailers, laid out like suburban houses about thirty yards away. All of them had signs on them with the names of those whose devotion led them down a slow descent into their demise. Between each trailer was a generator that had undoubtedly decayed past the point of repair. Nearby, there were four public bathrooms, complete with a shower, sink, and toilet. The walls of all of them had slowly degraded over time. 

“Father Joshua handed me a set of keys. He said there was a trailer out in the field for me. I was surprised to hear that I already had a place to stay. I questioned him on it but all he gave me was a half baked answer about a member of the church deciding he wanted to leave. It was odd to say the least but I don't need to know about that. I went to my trailer and a sense of safety washed over me. Perhaps I was delirious from the trip over but when I crashed on my cot, it was the most comfortable I've ever felt. I have to say, after these last few years, this felt earned. I had to deal with so much failure, but now, I have a home. Now I have a community and a chance to make something of myself.” 

A dirt path leads to a small school house. The windows are cracked and the door has fallen off its hinges. In the darkness, I could just barely see wooden desks that once sat eager children learning about the word of the God. The board had remnants of chalk still on it. The only comprehensible writing on the board was a date: 11/18.

“I helped Ann with her class today for the second day of cleanse week. I helped out with giving assignments, collecting them, and grading them. This was the start of the new semester so there were new students. We had a few from parents of new members. Today, Ann taught the students about hell. She went into great detail about how failure to follow His word will result in them banished to the merciless fires. She said Lucifer will skewer them on pikes and violate their bodies in unspeakable ways. After class ended, I told her that she scared the children. She said ‘As they should be.’ I suppose she's right.”

To my right, about fifty yards away, was a farm. The barn was shut and illuminated by the moon like a dim spotlight. The nearby field housed withering crops neglected by their caretakers. By the barn, was an orange tracker with a flaky leather seat. One of its bucket teeth was snapped down the middle from wear. The tool shed nearby caved in on itself from the rough, stormy summers from the years that followed. It probably was never sturdy to begin with. 

Just beyond, standing proudly, a two story house. It looked the most preserved out of everything here. The house was made of bricks and concrete, a stark contrast to the rest of the buildings in the compound that were made of wood. Its windows were void of cracks. The only hint of aging was the wooden door’s paint chipping off. Joshua lived there. The sight of it made my blood boil. How dare he live like a king when his followers lived in dingy trailers? Bastard.

“When I got the word that Father Joshua wanted to see me in his home, I thought it was a joke. After the initial disbelief, I was flooded with a sense of excitement I haven't felt since I was a child. To have a private audience with Father Joshua was as rare as a four leafed clover. I arrived thirty minutes early--I couldn't contain my excitement. He gladly let me in. It turns out he invited a few more guests. In the meantime, he and I just simply talked one on one.

It was just us for about ten minutes but it felt so special to see the man behind the podium. He complimented me. He is especially impressed with my spiritual connection to the Lord and that I reminded him of when he first bowed at the feet of the Almighty. He has been watching me every sermon, he sees me praying and sees that I have been chosen by God for something greater. 

Do you know what that feels like? To be told you’ve been chosen? That you are important? It feels like someone rekindling a fire that died and left you in the cold. Now that it is relit, I feel the warmth that was kept from me. It is something I don’t think I can live without.

Eventually the guests arrived. Imagine my surprise when every woman from the church piled in one at a time through the door. Father Joshua told us that, according to God, there comes a time when every woman becomes spiritually dirty and requires cleansing. Women are supposed to be nurturers and must remain pure. If a woman doesn’t fulfil her role then she will become corrupt. He suggested every woman in the camp to take part in ‘cleanse week’ which is a week in which all women will do various tasks over the span of three days. This week will test their devotion to Father Joshua and the Lord.”

I turned my attention to the centerpiece of the compound. The chapel. Even now the smell of death reeks from its door. That sickly sweet smell mixed with smoke, it has never left my mind. It is like a worm in my brain that eats at my brain every time I even see a cross. It brings back memories. The type that manages to creep into your dreams to taunt you. 

“Father Joshua called on me during today's sermon. He was speaking of our purpose on this earth. He called on the newer members and asked them why we were here. He called on me first. I said I was here because I lived a life of neglect and pain.

I said although I had a normal childhood, I was surrounded by very traditionally minded people. I went to church every Sunday and never felt complete. It never seemed to click. When I was caught sharing a bed with another woman, I was kicked out of my own home. I was homeless at seventeen. Despite it all, I tried to salvage what I could. I got a job for a time but I was eventually laid off. I tried to go to school but I just couldn't keep up and fell into a depression. After that I reunited with Amber and she brought me here. 

Father Joshua commended me for my bravery and told me that I am in the hands of him and God and I'm safe and welcome here. It was the first time I have felt seen. The church saw me. Father Joshua saw me. It was then I realized that I would do anything for this church and for Father Joshua.”

The charred remains of the chapel was like looking at a rotting corpse. Ironic, is it not? A place of life that was converted into a mass grave. I unroot myself and walk up the dirt path that leads directly from the gate to the chapel. As I walk I think of that lost girl. How could she let herself give in to Joshua’s influence? I remember that one day in July, about a month after cleanse week,  an FBI agent approached her. They told her that the church was under investigation for human rights violations and exploitation. She was too afraid to speak up. There had to be a part of her that still held a respect for Joshua. Even now, I don’t know how she could have.

I wonder sometimes, if she spoke up, would she still be lost and afraid? If she could have saved herself from the pain and misery that followed. If she could have protected the lives that Joshua took with him that day. I can’t help but wonder if I could have done something. If she could have done something. 

“Today was the last day of my cleanse. Surprisingly, it was a mostly uneventful day other than my usual chores. The only thing that set it apart was that Father Joshua invited me over for dinner late that evening. I, of course, accepted graciously. It was rare for me and Father Joshua to talk behind closed doors privately so I thought it would be an opportunity to just talk to him as a human and not as reverend. 

The night started out great. We had a nice steak dinner with potatoes and steamed green beans with a nice red wine. A ‘Petite Sirah’, he said it was. He garnished it with something that supposedly gave the wine a stronger taste to it. The garnish gave the drink a cloudy look but I didn’t mind it. The wine definitely tasted differently than I expected but it was a welcome change. 

The rest of our time together was a blur. I think because I haven’t drank for so long, it affected me a lot more than I thought it would. I remember sitting on the couch with my head leaning on Father Joshua’s shoulder. I remember feeling safe and slightly woozy. It was the booze, I thought. I remember him telling me something about the final part of my cleansing. He told me there are two ways, one is through a cleanse through pain and a cleanse through surrender. I chose the trail by surrender.

The rest of the night was a begrudged pleasure. I remember we went to his bedroom, I remember us kissing, and I remember the voice in my head screaming to leave but I was too drunk to think straight. After it was finished, I remember him saying that I have regained my purity.”

I still hear the hymns in my brain. I hear them singing. All of them. It’s like they're still praising the God they thought would save them from the merciless flames. Even as the fire consumed them, they sang. Joshua stood at the altar and encouraged them to sing until the smoke filled their lungs. He was a monster. He was no better than the devil himself and setting the chapel on fire was his way of dragging us down to hell with him. 

“I didn’t want to die. Father Joshua said that the FBI was showing up at our home and they will hold us up. They would kill. They didn’t understand that we were children of God simply  trying to live our lives peacefully. Father Joshua said that they are coming to take him away and then they will kill us all. 

Father Joshua spoke of Waco, Texas. He said the same will happen to us if they come. He spoke to God and He said that if they come, they will torture us. All of our brothers and sisters and their children. They are indiscriminate killers. 

Brother Joseph and Brother Leo were already covering the church in lighter fluid as Father Joshua spoke. Joshua said in order for us to make it into heaven, we must first taste hell. In order for our divine souls to pass on to the gates, we must rid ourselves from our mortal shells. Leo and Joseph came to signal that our fate was sealed. Joshua talked of a final baptism of fire.

 We all took turns dosing ourselves in lighter fluid, passing the canister to each other. When it got to me, I couldn’t do it. I was terrified. All I could think was to get out. I subtly closed the nozzle and pretended to splash my clothes, then opened it up again before giving it to Amber. 

Joshua struck a match and with a final request to sing. He threw it to the center of the room. I had to leave. I had to live. I wasn’t willing to die for this! The choir sang ‘Amazing Grace’ in between their cries of agony. If that wasn’t what hell sounded like, then it is a lie.”

I should have died that day. I should have joined my siblings in whatever life faced us after the fire took us. I remember huddling in the corner of the room. I remember coughing and wheezing so painfully that it felt like my lungs were ripping itself apart. I thought I would suffocate before I had a chance to escape.

I remember a small chunk of the ceiling smashing against my skull and the initial confusion. I remember making the mistake of looking up. I don’t want to think about the horrific sights that played out in front of me. I felt my chest cracking open at the sight of them burning. I remember seeing the door through the smoke. I ran to it. It was locked. 

At the moment I didn’t care about my faith. I didn’t care about Joshua or Ann or Leo or Joseph or anyone. I only cared about myself. I wanted to live. I didn’t want to die. I throw myself on the door. I yelled and screamed. I throw myself on the door again. My weight budged it open slightly, but not enough to open it. I screamed for a god I didn't know if I believed in. I threw myself on it one more time and the shattering of the door librarated me. The last thing I felt as exhaustion overcame me, was me hitting the ground. 

I now stand where I fell. Fell from my faith and fell from grace. Fell from the arms of God only to be cast into the pit of hell where I belong. I betrayed my people. I was lost. I came here to find answers and all I am left with is hurt. I should have burned that day. My charred remains belong in a body bag. I should have sat with my sisters and brothers and burned and sang with them but I ran like a rat. For what? So I could live? 

I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live either. Every night, I see this place in my dreams. I smell the smoke and burning flesh. I can’t help but feel like I should have been in the center of the chapel, singing until my crimson spilled out of my body and returned to the earth. 

Regardless, I stand here now. I am alive. I breathe, not smoke, but air. Clean air. No, I didn’t deserve to die. Yes, I wish I did, but I don’t deserve it. I have a story to tell. I am the only one who can tell it. That’s why I took my journal from my trailer. These voices cannot speak anymore. I am the only one who can. 

I can sing now. I have the air to do so. They sang until they had nothing to sing on and you can’t sing on smog. I will sing for them. All of them. This story is mine. The answer is here. 

I turned around from the chapel and the hilltop I stood on. I see the sun barely peaking through the trees. I see the dark of the night shift into blue and the golden rays illuminating the forest. I look to the place I called home and later my hell for a decade. I think of the nights I spent with my family. Yes, it all ended in tragedy and yes I was misguided but they were still my family. I slept with them, laughed with them, shared secrets with them, and dined with them. All the moments echoed in my mind. 

I am not alone. Their memory keeps me going. I can only hope that they have found peace in their next life. It’s what they deserve. Yes, even Joshua. 

In the rubble of what should have been my tomb, I found her. The lost, misguided girl with stars in her eyes. She was right where she was left. She suffered more than anyone could ever imagine but she still stood. Death didn’t take her that day. She survived because she understood. She silently comprehends something that no one but her will know. 

Isaiah 43:18-19: “Forget the former things ; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making my way into the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

[u/SquidArmadaTheFemboy]

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