Dimensions to Hell
The Hellscapes collections of short stories are very aptly
named, as they involve various conceptions of Hell and the experience of
it. I’ve always found the ideas of Hell
found in all kinds of religions to be very fascinating, ranging from the more
uniform kinds of Hell found in Judeo-Christian faiths to the more
individualized ones found in many Eastern faith traditions (and a more Eastern concept of Hell is shown vividly
in my Rising Dawn Saga, in the 4th book, The Undying Light).
I’ve always gravitated toward the idea of a more
personalized, or customized Hell, where the punishment fits the crime, so to
speak. This notion is not just relegated
to religions, as it also has a powerful foundation in literature with Dante’s
Inferno and the nine rings of Hell, where the condemned souls are assigned to
places and torments that relate to the kinds of sins they committed in their
lives.
The idea of a Hell being designed from the ground up in a
personalized way is not absent from John Milton’s Paradise Lost either. Satan gathers the fallen angels within what
is essentially an infernal wilderness and sets about building up a new kingdom
shaped directly to his will.
Writers in the modern age have definitely explored these
kinds of concepts, whether it be a novel like God’s Demon, by Wayne Barlowe, which I found to be truly amazing
and very visual/cinematic in its conception of Hell, or the time-honored Heroes
in Hell anthology series spearheaded by Janet Morris. So, the idea of a personalized hell for
those who dwell in it is certainly is not new and has a history from past to present.
For me, as a storyteller, working with a range of visions of
hell, or levels of hell, gives me the ability to construct a story that is
visceral and macabre, yet still has purpose.
The characters reap what they have sown in life, in an even more individualized
way than you find in Dante’s Inferno.
Monstrous creatures might be spawned from the actions of the condemned
character, and sometimes there are figures, who are given names like the
Stranger (in Hellscapes Volume I, in “The Smallest Fish”), or the Hustler (from
“The Club” in Volume II), who play the roles of guides in bringing the
characters closer to the horrific realization of their situation and fate.
The personalization of the experiences, situations, and
environments allows for a limitless scope in the kinds of stories and
depictions included in these collections.
Like Dante’s Inferno and the various circles of Hell, it also allows for
a variance in the intensity of the characters’ experiences. Some face very brutal violent fates, while
others face an unrelenting torment that is more psychological in nature than it
is physical pain.
In a given volume like the first or second, that variance
among stories allows for a range so that the reader is taken through and ebb
and flow rather than keeping everything at the same intensity level all
throughout. These kinds of dynamics
make the harder-hitting moments hit harder, and the more reflective moments
sink deeper, in my view.
Therefore, the levels, or variations, in the depictions of Hell
serve a dual purpose. Within the story
they provide personalization to the particular characters. In the creation of each tale, they become a
powerful asset for the art of telling the story itself.
The personalization of the various visions of Hells suits
both character and plot in a much more organic way, and in the end I think
results in a better story overall. I
invite new readers to adventure in the Hellscapes and see if they enjoy reading
these various depictions as much as I enjoy bringing each and every infernal
variation to life in writing them.