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Latest News About Hell: By Zach Keebaugh

September 15, 2015 Leave a comment Go to comments

Hell- Latest News

The Lankville Daily News is lusciously delighted beyond measure to present investigative reporter Zach Keebaugh’s column “The Latest News About Hell”.

Zach Keebaugh

By Zach Keebaugh

So, yo, the up-to-the-minute count of places in Lankville that are believed to be possible entrances to Hell now sits at 3. Yeah, I didn’t believe that shit either. But some guys and some nice-looking college students convinced me. They showed me some websites, some stuff on Scanit.com and a couple of books that were lying around. The question, of course, is do you believe in any of this fucking crap? Well, I aimed to find out. I aimed to find out the latest news about Hell. I am Zach Keebaugh, Hell Investigator.

So, the first place was a fenced-in copse off Route 71. We all know about Route 71.

I met Sheriff Bill Tetts. He handed me a coffee. “You’re gonna’ need this Zach,” he said. So, I was like, “C’mon Tetts. What the fuck is this about? You got the entrance to hell over here?”

“Zach,” he said, in his inimitable Route 71 drawl. “If there be a hell, then here it is.”

“If there be a hell?” I queried. “You gettin’ all eloquent on me Tetts? Let’s see this hell entrance.”

He led me into the copse. I’ll admit, things got a little weird. It got dark fast. The sky above (where it could even be glimpsed) was a flamboyant orange. I suddenly began speaking like Tetts. “That be a weird sky,” I commented. “This be a supernal copse.” I couldn’t control myself. I don’t know what the hell was up.

Tetts led me over to a steaming crater. “The mouth of this infernal caldera is an abomination to all humankind,” said Tetts. His sipped his coffee and looked at his cell phone.

The Hell-Mouth of Route 71.

The Hell-Mouth of Route 71.

I steadied myself and stared into the abyss. It was then that I realized what a mound of horseshit the whole thing was.

“Hey, Tetts,” I said. “Souls are incorporeal, man. Hell has no need of physical mouths. Get out of here with this mind fuck, man.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that and I struck place number one off the list.

So, I took a bus down to the Warm Peninsula Regions. There, I met local historian Wilma Sheets. Wilma was a little older than me but, good Christ, she was rocking her jeans pantsuit.

Course, we were standing around a pile of god damn rocks and a weedy area. I guess there’s some guys that can make a little romance out of a pile of rocks and a weedy area but I sure wasn’t coming up with anything.

“So, Wilma, what’s up with this pile of rocks, girl?”

“Well, Zach, it sure doesn’t look like much but many ancient Lankville historians have indicated that this was once the seven gates of Hell. It was said that if you passed through all seven gates, you would land straight in Hell.”

“I only see one gate,” I said, pointing out an old chain-link fence that was pretty much sans chain-link. “Yo, what’s up?”

“Well, the other six gates are invisible during the day, Zach,” she shot back.

I stared at her for a long time. I smelled bullshit, sure. And I was a little peeved that I had ridden the hump on that shitbus all the way down here. But that pantsuit was really nice, really a good fit. You don’t see that sort of thing too often when you’re standing outside.

The Seven Gates of Hell.

The Seven Gates of Hell.

“Are the invisible gates over in that weedy field?” I asked.

“I think so, Zach. These giant stone blocks, these were part of an insane asylum. Hell’s insane asylum, the legend goes. Can you imagine the sort of patients that would be in hell’s insane asylum?”

She shuddered. I was quick to give her a comforting hug. The jeans pantsuit was nice, man,  I was digging it. But I knew I could check this Seven Gates of Hell nonsense off my list too.

A few days later, I took the bus out of the Warm Peninsula Regions and up to the Snowy Lake Area. That’s where the alleged third entrance to hell is located– at the infamous “Cave of Sibyl”.

Glenn O. Cox is the curator of the cave, which is just a little stone mound that you enter through a ragged doorway and which, after a couple of stairs, drops down several hundred feet into fire. They have a little sign there (in a couple different languages) warning visitors but still, thousands of dumb shits fall to their deaths every year.

“So, Glenn O. baby, you think this is the true entrance to hell, huh?” I was a little worn out– hadn’t slept in days. And I wasn’t buying the claims of this sad little stone asscave.

“Yes, Zach. According to legend, the sibyl emerges at the surface each night and leads the damned to the underworld.”

I just looked at him.

The Cave of Sibyl.

The Cave of Sibyl.

“Yes, Zach, also we have evidence that birds flying over the lake have died due to the toxic fumes the cave emits. It is, indeed, a deadly portal.”

I still had nothing to say. Glenn O. was getting a little antsy.

“And also Zach, there have been many ancient Lankvillian kings who have offered condemned prisoners the chance for freedom if they would allow themselves to be lowered into the Cave of Sibyl and report what they saw below. And in every case, the prisoner chose death over the cave!”

“Yeah? Fuck this cave, man.” I was irritable, I admit it. It was uncalled for. Let’s just say I got worn pretty ragged down in the Warm Peninsula Regions.

Glenn O. was shocked. “Oh, Zach, that…don’t say that…” He began praying, making some kind of weird sign with his stubby little hands.

“I’m packing it in, Glenn O. baby,” I said. Later, I wrote him a letter of apology.

So, man, do what you want with these three claims. That’s the takeaway here. This reporter? This reporter isn’t buying any of it. And that’s the investigation– the latest news about hell.

Zach Keebaugh won a trophy for this report.

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