When the car emerged into Hell, the first thing Giuseppe Banca did was squint. Sunshine, strong and warm, shone from a pale yellow sky. Hell’s landscape was a rolling sea of grass and purple-tinged trees, stretching over slight rises and… Continue Reading
John Peterson died with little fanfare. His lone surviving son and four grandchildren were in the hospice room when he slipped quietly away. Their muffled sobs and whispered words faded as he drifted toward the light of his statistics board.… Continue Reading
For a brief moment I saw the green line on the monitor go flat. The throbbing sounds of panic began to fade out as the images of flustered doctors became fuzzy in a hazy grey blur. Death washes over you… Continue Reading
In hell, bowling is the pastime of choice. It’s like a rite of passage. I’ve been here two days, and once you get used to the sulfur, wailing, and the constant loop of Michael Bolton songs–it’s still bad, but you… Continue Reading