5. Who Knows What Could Happen In Hell
When Death escorts me through large grand stone halls with a red worn carpet down the middle, he speaks slowly. Calculating his every word. He asks me questions. He tells me of the architecture. Of the first soul he had met. Most of the things he tells me I don't really care about but it's not my place to tell him. So I just nod. When you don't know what to do or say just nod. That advice has gotten me far in life...or death. Wherever I am now.
We turn a corner and Death pushes open two- very large wooden doors and we enter into the grandest room I have ever seen.
The room is about as long as any field of grass I have ever seen. A strong and large dark wooden table sits right in the middle of the room on a large red patterned carpet. The table is nearly as long as the rooms. Chairs for every place possible at the table the the walls were plum with little black designs. Almost like my dress on my 17th birth-day.
At the opposite end of the hall from us is swinging doors where people must wait to serve food. Well...maybe not people. Who knows what could happen in Hell. He escorts me to a chair straight in front of me.. From our view the one on the left from the head. He pulls the chair out and tucks me in. Then he, himself. Death. Grabs the head chair and pulls it out a bit before jumping on it and laying his feet on the opposite arm of me. He rests his neck on the arm closest to me and looks backwards at me. A goofy smile erupting on his face.
"So mademoiselle, any questions?"