Ludwig Braun's brief time in Hell
Word Count: 1398
(Warning of strongly violent imagery and language ahead)
As it was the case with the majority of his cult-mates, Ludwig Braun had suffered all through his life from a massive nihilistic depression, and had been on the verge of suicide on several occasions. Since he was young, he never excelled at anything. He was a lousy athlete, useless in fights, inept at school, awkward with women and when he grew older he squandered the family fortune by investing in a bengali restaurant which went broke almost instantly. Later, when his parents finally kicked him out of their house, he was rejected in every job he ever applied. In every single one of them, until his high school friend Figasius introduced him to a whole new world.
It's no secret among citizens of New York and D&D enthusiasts everywhere that in order to join the satanic cult dedicated to the infamous Prince of Hell, one must sign -in blood, of course- a dark and deeply perverse contract, which threatens to transform the signer's life into a carnival of hedonism and unparalleled depravity.
This unholy agreement, filed in the cult's underground library, stipulates, between a sea of diabolical clauses and statutes, that the damned shall be honored with the possibility of being chosen for sacrifice in the name of Satan at any point and completely at random. At the beginning of each day, a group of infernal bureaucrats roll a number of twenty-sided dice and with those rolls they select the cult members who are to die that same night when the twelfth bell sounds and Lyzolda, the magister maleficarum, calls them to the altar. Randomness, it is said, is a demon's favorite weapon.
Thanks to this process, each member ensures itself to live every hour of every day as if it was the last, because it very well might. And due to the type of personalities who are drawn into this pact, the followers of Satan spend their time starring in absurd slaughters, multitudinary and illegal orgies, cannibal feasts, consuming all sorts of narcotic substances and, in general, taking part in everything involving destruction, torture and chaos. The cult is utterly despised and condemned by society and it's laws, but due to how little the cultists care about everything, they are absolutely invulnerable to live capture -much less interrogation- and police efforts to stop the forces of hell have proven futile.
Once initiated in the Cult, Ludwig's life did not become happier than before. Yes, he was an active participant in the great satanic bacchanalia -frequently followed by the great satanic slaughters-, assisted in the summoning of countless demons to the mortal realm and was responsible for a number of arsons in the city. Nevertheless, he was still a sad and miserable being. For some reason, innocent blood did not satiate his thirst for existential purpose, and neither demonphilia nor church burnings were enough to distract him from the void in his life. Everything was still meaningless.
Certain day, a troubled Ludwig decided to put an end to his suffering once and for all. Lacking the courage to cast himself from the top of a building or take a stroll through the Bronx at night, he hatched a suicidal plan during a rainy afternoon, previous to the equinox bacchanal.
Gathering every bit of courage he could muster, he infiltrated into the official library, by walking through the front gates. Until that point he was feeling calm, but soon his innate nervousness emerged to the surface. He first accidentally waved hello to the guard with the hand in which he carried his knife and then he tripped and fell through the stairs that led to the basement, ruining the stealthy job he had imagined. Knowing he had little time, he made haste through the dusty shelves filled with accounting volumes bound in human skin until he jumped over the demon charged with writing the names of the chosen ones and slit his throat. Then, he wrote himself on the list of sacrifices. Ludwig smiled, for the first time in his all of his cursed life.
Knowing he was going to die, he participated in that night's feast with renewed vigor and wildness. He was no longer the wimp all the other kids beat in the playground. The callow teenager girls rejected constantly didn't exist anymore, and neither did the man who failed in every enterprise he attempted. He felt like a World Champion, and his forty four years could barely be noticed among the few hairs still in his head.
A few hours before midnight, in the middle of the saturnalia and as he licked lysergic acid from the chest of a cross-dressing zombie, Ludwig met eyes with those of a young woman of overwhelming beauty, who was drinking blood from the skull of a goat on the other side of the hall. Of course, he fell in love immediately and ran towards her. He rushed through the tides of naked bodies coiled like snakes, dodging deadly traps, rings of fire and his friend Figasius who was making out with some kind of two-headed demon. In the end, he reached the vaporous sight who was his savior.
The girl was the most beautiful one he had ever seen in his life and she was smart and mysterious, an authentic vampire cloaked in a veil of eroticism and leather. Ludwig didn't leave her side all through the evening, and didn't hesitate to lash out every bit of charm and every last coin he had in the ordeal of seducing her. Love coursed through his veins, right next to a dozen different kinds of other psychedelic drugs.
Happily, the lady yielded. They locked themselves in Satan's private wine cellar and right there, among kegs of cheap wine and under the sight of a thousand rats they clumsily loved each other. In the midst of the venereal feast, the first of the twelve bells of midnight made Ludwig realize he would never see his love again, because he was set to die that same night. He was scared. For the first time in his life he wanted to live. "Wait for me upstairs" he said to her "I’ll be right back". She sweetly looked at him and smiled.
He left without even dressing up and at full speed he got the street, right in time to intercept the already recovered demon bureaucrat who carried the list of sacrifices. Without giving explanations, Ludwig smashed his skull with his bare fists and stole the parchment away from him. Using the demon's pen he violently stroke out his name and wrote "Figasius" right next to it.
Once in the altar of sacrifice, the witch Lyzolda, the executioner, didn't even flinch when she received a list filled with strokes from the hand of a bald, naked and blood-soaked middle aged stranger, because it wasn't the first time that happened. Ludwig stepped aside as the witch summoned the victims for the night.
One by one she read the names and, as they were called, the damned joyfully walked to the stage. Figasius, red faced, limping and covered in sweat was the first to come up. The crowd roared and cheered, everyone hoping to be the next one. Ludwig almost felt sorry for them. None would ever know love. None would know the joy of living.
He wandered around, looking for his lover. She ought to be there somewhere, among the fire and the chaos. Ludwig didn't take long to spot her, and she walking towards him. His heart beat faster and faster as she approached, but it stopped for a second when she passed next to him and moved on without even looking at him. He understood that she was heading to die at the altar. He grabbed her arm to stopped her.
"No, please don't. I love you."
She looked at him, but said nothing.
"Run away with me, let's flee this sect of freaks. We'll get married. We'll be together forever. Loving each other forever!”
Lyzolda repeated her invocation. The crowd screamed like mad. Tears poured from Ludwig's eyes.
"Please..."
Suddenly, the girl's heart softened and she kissed him in the cheek. Then, she kicked him in the crotch
When Ludwig took hold of himself again, it was too late. As the witch's blade coursed through the neck of the love of his life, Ludwig realized he never knew her name.