Down the River of Styx
He entered Hell as regular people enter their homes, albeit reluctantly, since he wasn't a masochist. Technically, he spent more time here than at his actual residence, but not by choice.A sarcastic voice came from behind him. "So, you're back again."
"It's my last time here, I assure you, Nathaniel," the man said, forcing a fake smile towards the handsome soul gatherer.
"You keep saying that, yet I've had the displeasure of looking at your ugly mug for hundreds of years. I'm so lucky I don't eat; otherwise, I'd hurl every time you come by."
"Even so, I still look better than your true form. Stay salty, buddy. I'm looking for the big guy," the man announced.
"Ooooh, the big guy! Why would Lucifer waste his precious time on you?"
"Are you his keeper now that you once got into his bed?"
"That's a nasty rumor that YOU started," Nathaniel shot him a dirty look.
"Tell him I'm here right now, or I'll spread another much less harmless rumor."
The soul gatherer grumpily left, and the man waited at the gates.
Soon, the Father of Darkness himself appeared. He looked less impressive than one would imagine, donning a knitted pullover, a fedora, and uncomfortable wool pants—an homage to 1920s European style on Earth. Around one century ago Lucifer got weirdly obsessed with the Great Depression and Charleston, thus all his avatars were sporting this look.
"Why are you wearing wool in Hell? Aren't you torturing yourself?" The man couldn't help but ask.
"It's a perk of the job! Do you know how people who work in bakeries can take some of the pastries home at the end of the day? Same thing here. I get to torture myself to my heart's content - all tax-free because I'm the boss" Lucifer explained.
The man didn't inquire about Lucifer's bakery policy knowledge. He had more pressing matters to discuss.
"It's done. I've gathered all the souls that fed into my resentment."
"Wow, so you found out?" Lucifer seemed surprised. "Cool, cool, cool. Or should I rather say, "spiffy"?"
"Why does it seem like you never believed in me?" The man was slightly taken aback. The devil should have known this day would come sooner or later.
"I didn't think you'd actually follow through with it."
"I despised those assholes. Burning them alive was no problem. Maybe I should have devised a longer-lasting torture, but I was impatient," the man shrugged. "You know very well how much I want to get out of here."
Lucifer's deep black eyes softened. Something akin to compassion flickered within them.
"You know what I'm talking about, Ash."
The man knew but refused to admit it.
"Are you the Devil or my psychiatrist? Stop saying weird things and send me down the river of Styx."
"Right now? Won't you even say goodbye to him?"
"I sent him a parting gift and a card. That's a proper farewell, isn't it?"
"You're asking me, the Ruler of the Underworld? My only relationship is with sin. And we're very codependent."
"That was rhetorical. It's time for me to die. I've been alive for far too long."
Lucifer raised his hand, feeling the energies around the man's body.
"I see. No more resentment left. You can die and enter the cycle of rebirth now. Who am I to stand in your way?"
"You could have let me leave a long time ago, yet you dragged it out for as long as you could," the man said, contemplating ambivalently. "Was it just to torture me, or did you gain some sadistic enjoyment from having me around?"
"What do you think?" The Devil tipped his fedora and winked at the man.
"I think that you must really hate me."
"Do you know what a projection is, Ash?" Lucifer rolled his eyes.
"Oh, spare me your long-winded pseudo-scientific mumbo jumbo. Can I go now?" The man rubbed what used to be his nose long ago.
"The ghouls have been here the entire time. They will gladly escort you to the boat whenever you're ready."
"Thank you, Your Evil Highness. I hope we never meet again," Ash followed the laughing ghoul, who made mocking faces at him.
Lucifer watched as Ash boarded the boat and slowly vanished from Hell.
He sighed.
"I hope you discover the truth one day, Ash. Until then, we'll keep encountering each other, whether you like it or not."
In the meantime, Ash had disembarked and entered the crowded, sweltering rebirth processing center.
"Excuse me, who's last in line?" he asked the confused crowd. Pushing forward, he was stopped by a chubby, sweaty man.
"Don't be rude. We're all waiting."
"I understand. How often do they call us in?"
The chubby man shrugged. "I've been here for around half a century, and they still haven't called me yet."
"50 freaking years? Are you kidding me?"
"No," a woman nearby turned around. "I've been here for over a hundred."
"Great, just great," Ash sighed. "If I had known, I would've brought a book."
"I have a book," a lady behind Ash said, offering him a Bible.
Ash frantically waved his hands. "No, thank you. I'm allergic to that one."
"Young man, don't be cheeky," the woman said, disapprovingly pursing her lips.
"I'm not being cheeky. I'm genuinely allergic. Look." Ash touched the Bible, and ugly hives immediately covered his hand.
The woman muttered "Pater Noster" and moved away from Ash as far as she physically could.
"Is that what happened to your face?" the chubby man asked.
"Huh? What do you mean?" Ash responded absentmindedly.
The man seemed slightly embarrassed. "Did a Bible accidentally fall on your face and make you look like that?"
Ash burst into laughter.
"Well, that's as good an explanation as any."
"Don't worry," the man patted Ash on the back, consoling him. "Once you're reborn, you'll get a new body, and you won't be disfigured anymore."
"And are you looking forward to not being fat and ugly anymore?" Ash asked the man with a sweet smile that, on his face, looked especially creepy.
The bold man turned red and quickly turned away, muttering something about the disrespectful youth and their lack of manners.
Ash decided not to tell him that he was at least two centuries older than any other person in that space.
But now, he was almost done. Only one tiny step left until the long-awaited end of his existence.