One Way Ticket from Hell

  • by
  • Rating:
  • Published: 14 Apr 2018
  • Updated: 17 May 2018
  • Status: Complete
My live has always been a hell – and, I’m not exaggerating, I don’t have any teenage-crisis. I mean, Hell, literary. I live on the suburbs, you know, a dim and gloomy place called the Valley of Destruction, and my mom is a demon specialised in tempting our dear neighbours from above – from Earth. She’s really good at it – there are many of diplomas and statues for The Demon of the Year and even some for The Demon of Century. She has even a mug with bright red letter saying “A one-way trip to Hell”. But, if it comes to tempting humans, I must say I’m the best prove she’s good.
My name is Abandon – yes, after this Abandon, mum’s a real fan of him – I’m sixteen years old and I’m a half-demon.

Entered in the monster story marathon, category: a love story.


6. The night trip


So I’m grounded.

It’s not like I really care, because there’s nowhere I want to go, so I would sit at my dad’s place anyway. What irritates me, is that I’m not allowed to go out – even if I don’t want to – because the very fact there are actually rules to obey makes me feel uneasy. At home, as long as I didn’t skip school, I could do whatever and whenever I wanted.

After listening to my dad’s lecture – and believe me, it lasted until we got home – I also had a talk with Laura, who was obviously highly displeased with the fact I had taught her daughter. What surprised me, Amanda got grounded too. I was sure I would be the only one to blame; but again, Laura doesn’t know about demons, so she probably thinks I’m just a troublesome teenager.

Now I’m sitting in the guest room, wondering why I do feel bad about the whole situation. Normally I do not feel remorse; when I argue with my mom, we’re both angry with each other, we don’t talk for a few days and then forget about it and act as if nothing happened. My dad and Laura are not angry with me. They’re sad and disappointed, and it makes the whole thing worse.

I go downstairs and stop by the door to Amanda’s room. It’s open. She wears her ballerina costume. She stretches, doing the splits, and my legs hurt at the very sight at it. I knock at the doorframe and she sits normally, like a human whose bones are not made of rubber.

“Look, Louis, I’m sorry,” she looks at me, red-faced. “I felt so bad, I had to tell mum. I didn’t want you to be in trouble.”

“That’s fine,” I shrug my shoulders.

“I told her I stole it myself, but she didn’t believe me!” she adds, “You know, she really can make you confess anything.”

“It’s my fault anyway. Stealing is a bad thing to do,” I say, and I’m happy my mother will never hear this. Here I am, a half-demon, giving a human a lesson on morality. But I don’t really have a choice; our father has been right. I’ll go back to Hell soon, and I’ll probably don’t see Amanda again. I don’t want to ruin her life. “Listen, I am a terrible advisor. If I tell you to do something, you should probably do the exactly opposite thing.”

“So, do you want to play with me? I have many board games.”

I try to make up a really good reason why I can’t play with her, when we hear phone ringing downstairs, and in the next second dad calls me.

“Maybe later,” I tell Amanda and run to the living room.

Dad hands me his mobile phone.

“It’s for you.”

I take it, rather surprised. I have two phones: one hellish and one human. With the first one I can call the Hellish Emergency Centre or my mom; the second has been useless so far. I have only one phone number on it, and it’s my dad’s.

“Hallo?” I tell to the phone, wondering who I’m going to hear.

“So, are you in a big trouble?” Rachel asks. She sounds like she’s amused. I roll my eyes at dad, who watches me, and go to the kitchen.

“I’m grounded,” I admit. “No going out, no television and no Internet.”

“But you have a smart phone?”

She gives me her number, and I promise to call her back in a few minutes. She doesn’t tell me what she wants to talk about, and I’m so curious I go straight to the guestroom and dial her number.

“Listen, so we’ve made some research about local cemetery,” she says. I sit on the bed, wondering what she’s doing right now. “It looks like it has a really interesting story. There are some criminalist buried there; a serial killer, a woman who was told to be a witch and a man, who was believed to be a vampire. We have their stories, and we want to make a film at the cemetery.”

“It’s a school project. I should be able to go,” I said, sitting up. It’s seems very interesting, and it may be fun. Down in Hell, we don’t have such projects at school. We invite the best way to torture sinners, or to tempt mortals, or how to create natural disasters. “When do you want to do this? It would be great to shoot it at night.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” Rachel laughs melodically. “We’ll do it tonight. It’s full moon.”

“It’ll be great. We should take candles,” I propose. “We’ll make it creepy.”

Rachel agrees. She explains to me that Susan made the research, and that they wrote the script together. Peter is going to bring his camera, shoot the film and add special effects on his computer. Rachel and I are to present the data. She promises to send me the scrip, so I’ve given her my e-mail.

I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to learn the script by heart, though I don’t think Rachel would mind be being a bit spontaneous. We text a lot trough the day; her massages are mostly emoticons I’m not sure how to interpret. She tells me to get into line N10 at quarter past midnight; I’ll join Peter, who will also take it. The bus won’t take us straight to the cemetery, but we’ll be close enough to walk.

I flinch when I hear a knock at the door to my room. The door opens before I invite whoever is at the other side to enter; Madison sticks her head into the room and gives me a wide smile.

“The supper’s ready. We’re waiting for you.”

I go to the kitchen with her. Laura’s prepared lots of sandwiches; I demolish five of them before my stomach is satisfied.

“We had no time to talk about your school,” she smiles at me. It seems that I’m forgiven. “Did you like it?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” I shrug my shoulders. “By the way, where is the nearest bus stop? I haven’t seen it when we were going to school this morning.”

“Why do you need a bus stop?” my dad looks at me suspiciously.

I sigh and roll my eyes.

“Honestly, dad? Being sixteen and being taken to school by a parent? They’ll think I’m a looser,” I grimace from above my sandwich. My dad nods his head with understanding.

“It’s nothing wrong with being given a ride,” Laura turns to my sister. Amanda seemed to be about to say something; probably that she is never going to school with her again.

“The bus stop is up the street. In opposite to the grocery” dad explains.

It’s a board game’s evening, but I excuse myself telling that I have lots of homework to do. It’s not really a lie; I have lots of homework, I’m just not going to do it. I have holidays; if they want me to go to school, that’s fine, but they won’t make me study.

When two hours later someone opens the door of the guestroom, I pretend to be asleep.

“I told you he’s in bed,” I hear Laura whispers. “He may have some troubles, but he’s a good kid.”

“Well, I was sure he’ll complain about the earlier bedtime,” my dad mutters. “Apparently, I was wrong.”

I barely resist an urge to laugh. ‘A good kid’? As a half-demon I wonder if I should be offended.

Time passes quickly when you wait for something; it’s true both for Earth and Hell. I stare at my watch, considering calling my mom just to kill time, but I don’t know if the attic is soundproof. So I lie, staring at my human phone and thinking about Rachel. I whish she texted me. I could text her, but I’m not sure what to write. I’m not really good at talking to demonic girls, and I have no idea if I deal better with human ones.

The house is quiet, everyone is deep asleep. I planned to ask dad to let me go to the cemetery, but as our plans have changed and we want to shoot the film at night, it's obvious I have to sneak out. It’s ten to midnight. I get up, blindly look for the black jumper and put the two mobile phones into the front pocket. Then I open the window, glimpse at the dark lawn and jump down.

I land on bended knees, doing a perfect shoulder-roll; my PE teacher in Hell would be proud with me seeing this. I get up, dust grass off my shoulders and run to the fence. Demons are much stronger and stayer than humans, and my demonic genes make me able to do things I would regret doing were I a human. I climb over the fence and walk up the street. The little grocery is just where it should be – and so is the bus stop.

When I get into the bus, there’s only one more passenger inside, and it’s Peter. We nod head at each other, standing side by side by the window, but we don’t talk. He has a huge backpack; I guess his camera is much more professional than I thought.

“Won’t the teacher ask questions when we show her the film?” I ask. Just imagine: a group of teens shoots a film at a cemetery, in the middle of the night, and then take it to school to be graded. I can imagine a lot of question a teacher can ask after watching it, including ‘where the hell were your parents?’ and ‘what’s wrong with you?’.

“Nah, she’s cool,” Peter shrugs his shoulders. He’s dressed all in black, in the kind of clothes my mom bought for me and my dad forbad me to wear. There’s a huge scull in the middle of his T-shirt, and he has so many piercings I can hardly see his eyes.

“Hey, Peter? What subculture do you belong to?” I ask out of pure curiosity.

Peter just laughs at me.

“These are clip earrings,” he points at his ears and shrugs his shoulder. “Rachel likes punk.”

At first I can’t see the connection between these two, and I stare at Peter like an idiot. He looks away; of course he’s not going to discuss it any further. So he likes Rachel; I bet he made his comment to make sure I know he’s had the first dibs on her.

“She doesn’t look like she likes punk,” I comment.

“You should see her playlist,” he mutters and turns toward me again. His face has a fierce look to it. “We’re almost a couple.”

“Does she know about it?” I ask a bit ironically.

Peter glares at me.

“Keep away off her,” he mutters, and then smiles broadly. I’m taken aback, but then I realise he looks at someone behind me. His smile isn’t meant for me – the bus stopped and Rachel has just got in.

“Hey, boys.”

She has on a black mini and a leather jacket, and her legs are so amazingly long in black boots. Her hair is as dark as the night sky outside, and I could tell her eyes are like stars – but I won’t, I don’t want to sound like an idiot.

The point is, more or less, that now I understand; a demon can easily fall in love with a human.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...