Gates of Hell
The thick black gates stood several feet tall, towering high above any of the shades that stood before it. “Welcome,” Charon’s deep voice boomed, echoing off of the rock walls surrounding them.
The shades chattered nervously as they watched him slink back into his boat, dipping his oar back into the waters and chuckling to himself. Dread filled every single one of them as he went further and further away, tying their still hearts in tight knots. The gates clanked and creaked, piercing the air with their shrill squeaks, as they slid open. More voices babbled from the depths inside as the shades shuffled in, looking hurriedly around through the hollow sockets in their skulls. Cool air blew through the tunnel, and terrified glances passed around the faces of the shades.