Ein Beitrag von C.J. Cherryh
Snip. Snip-snip. Snip.
Partly overcast in hell, a few spots of rain but the job had to be done, and when jobs of a less elevated nature had to be done in Augustus villa, there was a question of rank involved. Augustus wasnt going to do it. Neither was Caesar or Cleopatra, nor Sargon of Akkad; nor was Hatshepsut. The villa had Roman rulers and Egyptian pharaohs, but no gardener, and that elected the two Renaissance refugees whod found the villa a comfortable berth in hell.
Dante was dithering around in the basement about some research project.
Ein Beitrag von C.J. Cherryh
Roman hell comes in several sections. The deepest is Tartarus, but that was reserved for real dastards. The Elysian fields, well, those were where you got to after a virtuous life. Most people just went to a place a lot like the here and now, with a few inconveniences.
So in a sense the Roman hell was there before the Christian one moved in and spread out. It's not as old as the Akkadian one, but it goes back to some respectable antiquity, and therefore operates under its own rules.
Ein Beitrag von Michael Armstrong
In five short stories and one novel, I have been exploring the world and concept of Hell, as created by Janet and Chris Morris in the Heroes in Hell series.
"The Rapture Elevator" expands on an idea first developed in "God's Eyes" (Masters in Hell) and "Madly Meeting Logically," a short story originally written for Masters in Hell but later pulled so it could be expanded into my novel, Bridge Over Hell.
Can the damned escape hell?
Ein Beitrag von Janet Morris
Be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell
William Shakespeare, Othello
Kur had been in hell long before the first cast-down gods and their damned worshippers took the fall; he would be here long after the last of them were gone. Kur was born here in Ki-gal, home of the indigenous tribe of hell. Golden-green sulphur tickles his nostrils, billowing down sweet and warm from the mountaintop. He breathes deeper, expanding his mighty chest, rippling the surface of the dark pool where he floats, content. Beneath his backside, tar bubbles pop, massaging his wide-spread wings, his long spiky tail. His red skin is gleaming, dusted with quills, warning all comers of his poisonous bite and his rank, highest among the tribe.
Ein Beitrag von Janet Morris
I kept seeing Almighty Kur, lying in a pool of hot tar, bubbles bursting under his backside. His wings were unfurled and I had no idea at first why he was the key image for my story. I thought about it. I had told myself to write the story of Lysicles, whod been executed in life for leading a thousand Athenians to their deaths at the Battle of Chaeronea, while his commander was exonerated of wrongdoing. Lysicles had a bone to pick. He was angry. He was the perfect character to bring before Erra and his peerless Seven, personified weapons of destruction. So who was this big red guy with the wings and the spiky tail?
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