Hell on Earth

Chapter Three

Hell on Earth
(Mila's POV)
•••

        She slithered as smooth as a snake back to her desk, and I followed, less elegantly. Her office was gigantic, and my in opinion, kind of medieval. It was dimly lit, with candles and chandeliers as the light. Her desk was a dark antique wood, with a computer on it. Behind her was an entire wall of old, big, important looking books. The amount of books she had displayed could have filled an entire library.

While the other side of the room a was a lot more modern. The wall was a bunch of TV monitors that were all off at the moment.

What the heck do these guys do for a living?

"I'm still really confused. So, if someone can explain to me why I haven't hopped into a different dream, that'd be great."

She sat herself on top of the desk and crossed her arms. "Look, I'm going to say this as gently as I possibly can: you died. And now you're in Hell."

"Wow, super gentle." I mumbled. This was weird and ridiculous. I kept trying to pinch myself, hoping I'd wake up from whatever this was.

"Here, let me show you." She said as smoothly as marble, and pushed a button on a little remote she had on the desk, causing the entire screen to light up.

The numerous tiny screens all transformed into one big one, as a clip began to play.

The room on the screen was familiar. Queen sized bed, with grey covers and pillows. Nightstand with an iPhone, and bag of opened Lays and a jar of queso next to them.

It was my room, last night.

Then a figure hopped into the bed. It was me, wearing my beloved sweatpants. I was scarfing down the chips, as I routinely did, and watching TV.

I remembered this, but I don't know what she's trying to show me. I fell asleep right after. Some weird scary guy popped up on Jerry Springer, and I felt like going to bed.

Continuing to watch the monitor closely, it looks like TV me began to start choking on a chip. Like really struggling to eat that chip. A problem I've never had before, believe me. The choking looked uncontrollable and wasn't getting better.

What? I don't remember that part. That didn't happen.

And just like that, the screen went dark again.

"What even was that?" I asked, confused.

"That was you. Last night, when you died."

"Whoa, wait. So, in this dream, I died choking on a potato chip? Lame."

Couldn't I dream up that I was a firefighter putting out a fire? Or like a James Bond stunt? Something cool, at least. But no. I died from choking on a chip that was too big for my mouth. Who knew something I loved as much as a carb-y snack, could betray me like this.

"For the last time, this is not a dream. But I will agree, it was pretty lame. You're actually in a tie with a guy who died from drinking six Red Bull's in a row."

"In a tie for what?"

"Dumbest death."