Hallowed Be Thy Name, A Short Story

An Iron Maiden-inspired horror story.

This past summer, a short story prompt crossed my path that centered on adapting one’s my favorite heavy metal song. Since mine just happens to be “Hallowed Be Thy Name” by Iron Maiden, I jumped at the chance. The eighth and final track on Maiden’s The Number of the Beast album, “Hallowed Be Thy Name” tells the story of a man at death’s door, but this story takes it a step further.

Chronicling the prisoner’s journey into the afterlife, and the sorts of horrors that might await him, fans of Inferno or Infernal Fall may enjoy some of the imagery here. Given that today’s Halloween, this seemed like a timely post.

Additionally, my background goal was to refrain from using any personal pronouns until the very end. It was incredibly challenging, but a lot of fun to attempt. I’m largely happy with how this turned out.

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The innocent smile on her face was the last thing that came to mind before the darkness carried everything away.

The priest appeared to read the last rites, but his voice was drowned out by the bells tolling the inevitable. The gallows hung hauntingly overhead, glimpsed perfectly through the iron bars, knowing full well the moment for which they were made. The priest failed to meet their gaze, though they glared menacingly.

Death was no stranger around here.

All of this was wrong. Something was amiss. Could it be a dream? A vision of what may be rather than what is? A visitation from the Higher Power offering final latitude in changing the mortal destiny of a wrenched man?

The clock struck five and there was no time for appeal. The time of salvation had passed. No matter the words the priest recited, there was no stopping the separation of body and soul.

This was no dream, no strange illusion. The time is now.

“God be with you!” The words came from a neighboring cell, no doubt hoping to inspire an ounce of supernatural comfort. Alas, none came.

With each step from the frigid cell to the wooden crux ahead, the body grew weaker in faint anticipation. The clamoring of the chains reinforced their wicked weight as the last bits of sand slid through creation’s hourglass. Each step upward incited a new memory, an old failure, and stiffened the dark future that eternity had in store.

It became clear that death was not worth fearing, it was what came afterward that plagued weary souls.

The noose was placed firmly in position and quickly tightened to ensure a clean break. The priest looked up with an immense sorrow that would not be felt by any others. He had long offered eternal peace to those whom the world had forsaken, reminding them that God still offered justification and grace. As the hangman grasped the wooden leaver, no final words were spoken. None could be recalled, and only the face of one failed and discarded appeared in the mind.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by Thy name…”

Those were the final words that could be heard as the spirit was forcibly ripped from the body. The priest had spoken them as the floor gave way, and though the body had plummeted back to the dust, the soul ascended, forever free of the mortal coil.

Each ethereal appendage was grasped instantly by an angelic force reaping souls for the great harvest. With each passing moment, the body, the priest, and the gallows faded with the earth, becoming distant memories bound by the strict passage of time. The heavens passed by like falling stars as the full scope of the cosmos became clear.

A white-hot burning appeared on the fringes of the stars, and soon the whole universe was enveloped in its sterile flash. Time and space passed as quickly as the body fell, and instantly the bright light folded in on itself, replaced by a spectacular throne room. A sea of glass and fire covered the floor, swirling and blazing with more ferocity than anything seen on earth. Horrible-looking creatures, with the heads of beasts and men, surrounded the room on all sides. The cosmic beings sang in unknown tongues and the covered themselves with magnificent wings.

Certainly, this was the throne room of the Almighty.

The light that surrounded the throne itself was too severe to look at. No matter which direction the eye attempted, it was stung by the sharpness of its luminosity. Bowing was the natural inclination of the soul, and likely the body as well.

In an instant, final judgment was passed. There was no elaborate preamble, no deliberation. The charges were as clear as the crystal sea that sat before the throne. Every dark mark, every sin, each diligently accounted for. The priest’s last efforts were futile. The sentence was death, a second death, more final than anything the silver cord could have delivered. There would be no noose now, only the purifying intensity of the flame.

At once, an impossible darkness closed in. The black swallowed all light, and a wine press of horrors followed, invisible in the thick shadows. Falling again, far deeper than the six feet of earth that housed the rotting corpse, the eternal seconds felt like a millennia. Dread beyond measure inspired a comatose state, stripping any clinging hopes that this might be the work of hallucinogens or earthly spirits.

As suddenly as hope faded, a small light pierced through the outer darkness. There was a bottom to the pit, after all. The luminous end grew as a hot wind blew upward, only this was no eternal rest. Hellfire engulfed the darkness as the soul plummeted into the lake of eternal torment. The flame licked every inch with poisonous motivation. No flesh or bones made up the incorporeal form, which bathed in the metaphysical conflagration.

Hades, Tartarus, Hell, Gehenna.

These were words the priest used when pleading for a change of mind, a change of heart. No change felt possible at the time. It wouldn’t have changed the initial sentence. Death row had been certain. The end was indeed nigh. The priest likely knew this. He made no reservations concerning the mortal fatality, only the eternal, though it didn’t matter now.

The first and second deaths were complete. The judgment was made.

Unimaginable horrors lurked in every corner of the fiery lake, feeding off the lifeblood of every prisoner in torment. These ghoulish beings resembled the faintest memory of humanity, divorced entirely from the Immortal Spirit whose breath once filled their mortal lungs. Anguish and fear were lapped up like water, and hatred and contempt festered like weeds. The eternal flames weren’t nearly as deadly as the weights and chains holding every prisoner at bay. Escape was impossible, not that there was anywhere else to go.

Wandering the wasteland was all one could do, though it proved to be no less depressing. Around every molten corner there was another soul weeping, and across every sulfuric river, the gnashing of brittle teeth. The sweaty floor beneath them appeared to be moving, but it was only a mirage. Worms littered the ground and buried themselves deep into the feet and legs of those unable to walk any further. Some were plagued with so many that they burrowed out from their hollowed chests, mouths, and ears.

No one was safe from the surrounding horrors. Even the immortal spirits for whom this prison was first constructed were not spared from the total depravity of it.

At the center of what appeared to be another gloomy pit, a creature so massive, so horrible, walked slowly through the flame. Its leathery face was encompassed by a shaggy, silver mane that ran down its shoulders. A handful of hellfire flickered in one hand, which he would throw at those whose suffering wasn’t deemed satisfactory. In the other hand, the undead giant had numerous strings attached to its fingers. At the end of those strings was the demonic culprit himself.

About half the size of the undead creature above him, the Devil, red hot in appearance and fury, wandered the fiery lake aimlessly. The original fallen angel, Lucifer had once been his name, had been the reason this place existed, and now, he was doomed to suffer here forever. All he could do is make others as miserable as himself in the process.

On occasion, the Devil’s pitchfork would plunge into the ground and return with another serving of souls for his puppet master. The evil spirit was as much a prisoner here as the rest, and this other creature served as his warden.

At the sight of Satan and his puppet master, many wailed. As they scrambled over one another to safety, they burned themselves and each other in the process. Many fell back into the molten streams, which scorched off their eternal flesh, only for it to grow back immediately upon climbing out.

The harsh winds blew fast as the darkened sky swirled. A purplish hue appeared above, as if standing in for the sun, which would never be gazed upon again. It illuminated the horrid land, which appeared flat and endless on all sides. Crooked mountains could be made out in the distance, though the journey there would not be kind.

Through molten streams, sulfuric geysers, and ashen wastes, each step was as miserable as the last. The sand felt like broken glass and the rotten stench was nauseating. The worst of it were the lightning strikes, which appeared randomly and from out of nowhere. One shock could blow the eternal body apart, which would take more time to reform. Watching another get struck while seeking their own salvation was almost worse than experiencing it oneself.

No bridges existed in this foreign world of nightmares, and so each new river or stream meant another melting dip in hot magma. This occurred many times. The smell of burning skin was even more intoxicating than that of sulfur, and the mind played dark tricks as the body plowed through the thick lava. As the flesh slid off the body, the spiritual bone was fully exposed. Flaming skeletons were not uncommon here.

Days, weeks, months seemed to pass before the bent mountains came into perfect view. It had been a treacherous road, but peace was finally within reach. Many of these were volcanic as well and climbing them proved as difficult as wandering the hellscape had been. Rockslides, eruptions, scorpions, and snakes were around every turn, and one couldn’t get more than a few feet upward without being poisoned, burned, or crushed.

Another month passed before all of Gehenna could be seen from the highest rocky point. Avoiding the Devil had been the best course of action, but there was no assurance that his enormous puppet master could not locate one here. The creature was still wandering about on the wastelands, using the Devil to feed his never-ending hunger.

It was up on that dark mountain that it became clear that there was no true escape. On the other side of the range was the same wasteland as before, as if looking at a mirror, and the undead giant could be seen on both sides. Avoiding his gaze proved tricky, but after the monumental effort it took to escape the wasteland, it became second nature. Unfortunately, the mountain wasn’t as vacant as previously hoped.

Without warning, an enormous vampire bat, with eyes that burned like hellfire, revealed itself from a dark crevice within the mountain. It was larger than any person in the Lake of Fire, save maybe the Devil and his leather-skinned master. It howled and screeched as it flew circles around the mountain, homing in the giant warden on those seeking refuge above.

Despair had reared its ugly head, and as the creature’s inflamed eyes turned to the mountain, it laughed a horrible laugh. With its free hand, it flung a ball of eternal hellfire, which instantly engulfed the entire peak. Burning alive might have been a sweet release from the torment of the underworld, had death not already done its part…

When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the depths of hell. Trapped once more in the cold, dusty cell, I was overcome by the joy bubbling inside. The priest stood on the other side of the bars, once more reading the last rites. There was a warmness to him that hadn’t been evident before, and I quickly interrupted him.

“The Lord’s Prayer,” I said, hoping the minister would honor my request. “Please?”

He stopped, removed his rounded glasses, and nodded with a short smile. He closed the small book in his hand, put it away, and took mine in his.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…”