People are always surprised when they first get to hell. Not just for the obvious reasons, either. Of course they don’t believe that they’d be in hell; nobody commits acts believing that they will result in eternal damnation. But what surprises the damned on their arrival is the fact that, when they look out at hell, rather than seeing boiling pits of tar and pitch, screaming, tortured souls, and towering flames, the damned see fields. Typically, they hesitate a bit, assuming that the fields have some kind of terrible beasts hiding in them, but, eventually a hunger takes over, and they take to the fields, harvesting some vegetables or fruit and finding a variety of farming implements. The food invigorates them. It’s not long before they’re planting and harvesting their own crops.
The damned take pride in their crops, and they feel genuinely nourished by the food. They’ll step back, now and then, being stunned by how good things are in hell. And this goes on for weeks, then months, then years. Sometimes decades. The damned feel fulfilled and content. Some of them, in this period, reflect on their lives, wondering if hell is a mechanism that gives them the contentment that, on some level, they missed in life. This faction of the damned tend to wonder if they perhaps should feel bad for the bounty they’ve been given. But these moments don’t come for all the damned, and, when they do, they’re temporary. This is the first part of their hell.
As time goes on, the damned continue planting and harvesting and generally enjoying a peaceful, fulfilling existence. Then, a person comes along. The person is bedraggled. Their cheeks are sunken. Almost everything about them suggests the existence of famine and hunger. The person comes to the damned, and they ask for some kind of food. Some of the damned do share a bit of food, and some don’t. Either way, they insist that the hungry person move along, indicating that there is limited food and the hungry person could easily feed themselves if they just move on and take some initiative.
The path from there is always the same. The damned begin to fear. They begin to build structures that will keep out any other traveler. They cut down structures that are used to support the growing crops, and they use them to build fences, walls, and so on. They focus on building these structures, and they neglect their crops. The crops begin to wither, the damned feel the hunger, but they also feel a low-grade panic, and they can’t bring themselves to stop with the building. Once the walls and fences are built, the damned continue checking them, making sure that they are solid, sometimes even harsh, with sharp sticks protruding from them.
Now and then, other people will walk by. The damned will alternately stare them off or look away, wanting intimidation and no real contact. They crave their barriers more than they crave contact. And this is how the damned exist. This is the rest of their hell.
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