Damien’s Party – Short Story

I wake up on a damp floor, a cold draft moving over my body as I prop myself up. I’m in a corridor, or so I thought. Taking a look around, I find that there is only one entrance. One door in a corridor. The walls are a dirty grey with a stained red liquid dripping from the top of the walls, from the seam of the ceiling. The smell of burning and smelting hair. As I clamber to my feet, I put my hand against one of the walls, feeling the hot surface. I flinch at the heat, going from the cold floor to the extremely warm wall. Am I in a house fire?

I approach the singular door, the heat intensifying as I get closer. I put the back of my hand against the door, checking the heat. Although hot, it doesn’t seem as warm as a fire. I reach for the handle to find it at a fairly normal temperature. I turn the handle, open the door and find a cave-like structure, the rock red in colour. I step out onto what looks like a cliff top. Within seconds’ people are in front of me.

“There’s a new one!” They bellow as they run toward me.

I look around them, finding their eyes all black. What the hell are they?!

I turn to go back into the corridor only to find the door and the corridor are gone; leaving only a vast cave full of black-eyed people behind. I gulp.

A man runs over to me, his curled white hair bouncing as he bounds toward me. “Hi. So, a little introduction. Do you know that you’re dead?” He asks. His voice and expression are immensely calming in comparison to my current emotions. I nod in response to his question. “Great. Welcome to hell!” He shouts, lifting his arms into the air as he continues smiling.

“Why am I here? What did I do wrong?” I blurt. I can’t help but feel betrayed. I was highly religious when I was alive, I went to church three times a week, helped the homeless, and did charity work. What did I do wrong?

His brows narrow. “You didn’t have to do anything wrong to get put down here. Don’t worry. You’re, remarkably, in the good part of hell. This is the place the nice people come. You can go back upstairs, if you like but most generally enjoy it here,” he explains.

“But, why?”

He blushes slightly. “Let’s just say, we’re all similar and part of a specific community.” He grins.

My mouth drops open slightly. “So, I’m not being punished?”

His grin fades quickly as his brows narrow again, and a stern expression appears. “Why would you be punished for being LGBT+? God loves us.”

I cross my arms, looking down at the floor, a feeling of embarrassment filling me. My chest feels lighter now, however. Knowing that the person I’ve been worshipping for nineteen years doesn’t hate me for not being the norm.

“You were never out, were you?” The man questions, touching my elbow slightly as he tries to comfort me. I look up at him, his blue eyes holding a sadness. “It’s okay. You’re not the only one.” He beams, showing his pearly teeth.

“You didn’t…” I stutter.

He shakes his head, pressing his lips together as he smiles. “Nope, I never came out. I just ignored the fact that I liked men and non-binary people. I just stuck with my women.” His words made me feel a little confused, wondering what he was. “I’m Pansexual.”

I make an ‘O’ shape with my mouth as I begin to understand. “So, why exactly are we here?”

He lets out a hearty chuckle. “This is like a basement party. We’re not allowed to make a lot of noise in heaven, so we play and do stuff down here. Whether it’s sex, orgies, music, general parties, or watching football.” The last part of his statement makes me attempt to hold back my laughter, covering my mouth with my hands. My father would need to be down here to watch football. He’s the sort of person that screams at the television when someone doesn’t do something he likes. Seems like he isn’t the only one. “So, what would you like to do first? And, of course, we need to know your status.”

“Status?” I question.

“What your sexuality and gender are.” He smirks.

“Oh. Ermmm… I’m Bisexual and a Demigirl,” I announce. Several people behind me start clapping as if admitting it was a victory.

“And your name?”

“Sophia.”

The man’s smile widens. “My name is Cori. It’s nice to meet you, Sophia. Would you like to join the LGBT+ party?”

“Definitely.”

Within seconds, we’re in a vast, high-ceiling cave with rainbow lights hitting the crystals hanging from the roof. A man, sitting on a throne at the front of the cave, smiles and beckons Cori over. “C’mon,” Cori tells me, guiding me through the crowd.

The cave is filled with people of all different races, cultures, religions, genders, and sexualities… And people said we couldn’t all live in harmony. Everyone is dancing and singing, smiling; they’re all so happy. 

“Damien, this is Sophia. Sophia, this is Damien – the God of Death,” Cori introduces us, gesturing toward the man on the throne.

He stands up and puts his hand out to clasp mine. I put mine in his, and he kisses the top. “Hello, Miss Sophia. I apologise for your demise, but I’m happy to welcome you here. How are you finding it so far?”

I look around, crossing my arms after he lets go of my hand. “I’m very confused.” I pause. I turn back to him. “Why are you, specifically, hosting an LGBT+ party?”

“Well, to start, I’m an ally. I like LGBT+ people because they’re pretty awesome. And I like seeing them happy. This is my party, my scene. When I was alive, I never really liked straight bars. They were full of men and women who were okay with sexually assaulting people. So, I went into gay bars with this one,” he gestures to Cori. “Though, he never even came out. He was too scared to tell his sister,” he laughs, sitting down. “That’s why. I get to see a lot of lovely people, see my friends happy, and have fun.” He smiles.

I turn to Cori as I hear him chuckle. “It’s a Queer party hosted by a Straight Man. This is Damien’s Party.”