Carrying My Family Out of Hell

Trigger Warning: References to malnourishment and slight mentions of burns.

It's a lose-lose situation, really. I knew that the moment I was tasked with the impossible challenge of keeping alive the family flame in place of my sister.

But what was I to do? Say, "Sure, let the six-year-old kid take on the task of traveling the depths of hell with nothing but a measly fire"? Of course not -- it really never was a choice to begin with, now that I think about it.

"Stupid tradition, stupid choice, stupid--" I cut off with a yelp, my foot catching on something twisting through and out the ground. I stumble forward, the candle in my hand nearly slipping out. "Oh nononono--" I mutter as I tighten my grip around the melting wax and barely catch my balance.

For a moment, there's nothing but the dripping of water somewhere and my heavy breathing. I gulp as I watch the golden flame flicker in and out before seeming to stabilize. I let out a breath -- in the opposite direction of the flame, of course -- before I begin my trek again.

It has been an hour from what I know, though being in the dark underground space that might not even be a part of the physical world makes it hard to tell. So far, it isn't too bad -- not as terrifying as I thought it would be.

"Hell, they call it," I grumble as I step carefully this time. I frown at my pace. "More like a grimey old cave." I hope that this doesn't take very long, though I know deep down that that hope is really for naught.

I stifle a groan as I continue forward -- the only way to go really, since from what I can tell, the path behind me is already starting to deteriorate, just as my father had warned me of.

"Bringing this fire to the end better be worth it," I murmur as I ignore the creaking and groaning echoing behind me. I steady my breathing. "Better be."

-----

"I want to get out." My voice echoes, the desire made clear but answered by no one. I shiver as I walk. I don't even know if I'm still going forward or not. Despite the flame in hand, there is nothing but black ahead of me. Despite my hand outstretched to my side, this is nothing to touch, no wall, no nothing.

Not to mention the cold. And the pain in my feet. And in my arm. Everywhere.

I think it’s been about around three hours, maybe four (or maybe two, a side of me worries), though I’m not sure. In fact, other than time, there isn’t much I’m sure about anymore. At first, the decision to take the walk through hell was easy -- I would never let a toddler, especially my own sister, go through what I’m going through now. Of course, there had been concern about why the place is called hell to begin with, but I thought it was an exaggeration.

Now? Not so much. Because while there aren’t any burning fires or terrifying screams in this long path, there isn’t much of…anything. And that’s what is beginning to drive me insane. 

In the beginning, the path looked like a cave, but now, it’s just inky blackness. I’m not even sure what I’m walking on. More inky blackness? A void? I move the fire around again, the gold bright and blinding, yet it reveals nothing ahead of me. I pause for a moment, hesitatingly putting my feet out to the side. I feel the floor, but at the same time, it seems sloped downward. That’s worrying.

There’s no wall. There’s no visibility. There’s no sound save for my own breathing, my own talking, and my own feet on the ground, thumping in an almost muted way. 

My hand shakes a little as I continue forward again. Forward because that’s the only way I can go. I think about the deteriorating path behind me. I pray that I’m actually walking forward, but at this point, I’m really not sure.

-----

I’ve stopped walking a while ago. I’m not sure how long ago. A minute? An hour? A day? I’m sitting down, curled up with my knees to my chest as I hold the candle. It’s much shorter now, my hand now burnt and coated in melting wax. Soon, the fire might just reach my hand. I’m not sure I care.

My stomach hurts and I wonder if I’ve been here long enough to feel the pangs of hunger. Who knows? Maybe I’ve been here for a year. I shake my head. That couldn’t be -- then I would be dead.

I rock slightly, feeling the pressure of the ground, of the inky shadow that feels solid yet looks like nothing. I wonder if I’m actually just falling perpetually, but then I remember that if I were falling, I would feel weightless. But I feel heavy. Too heavy. 

I’m tired. I’ve talked so much that I’ve lost my voice so there’s nothing I can hear anymore besides my breathing. It’s quiet though, too quiet. I need something more to keep me awake, to keep me present, to keep me--

What am I doing here?

I look at the candle in my hand. The fire is almost touching my skin now. It hurts. I can’t move it what with the wax all over it now. 

Why do I have this?

I put it down, letting the candle roll slightly as I whimper at the pain shooting through my hand and arm. That hurts. My hand shakes as I tuck it against my chest. I watch the fire flicker. It’s the only color I see. Is it even a color? It looks white. White is another form of nothing, just like black is. I hate it.

I move to put it out, but I pause. If I kill the white, then I would be left in black.

I curl further into myself. I watch the flame. It’s so small. I close my eyes. They shoot back open -- black. I don’t like black. I stare at the fire unblinkingly.

I let it comfort me. It’s another form of nothing, but I think it’s better than the rest of the nothing around me.

-----

“Why does our family do this?” I ask. My mother raises a brow at me so I put my hands up in defense. “Yeah yeah, I know, it’s to preserve the family lineage, whatever. But what does that even mean?”

My father sighs from the broken seat beside me, rubbing his fingers to his temples. “I’ve explained this to you, son. It’s because the fire represents our family. If we, the flame, were to be unable to make it to the other side of hell, then we would all be stuck in hell for the rest of eternity. At that point, what reason would there be to continue our family line?”

I look at him skeptically. “Right…And I have to do this because…?”

My mother sits down in the seat opposite of me, placing her near-empty plate on the table, the portion of food on it measly. She looks at me with tired eyes. “Because your sister cannot, and we as your parents are much too frail for the journey.” She reaches a bony hand out to me. I take it. “I don’t want you to go there,” she whispers, eyes brimming with what I think might be regret. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take the journey instead. I kept waiting, and waiting, and telling myself ‘one day,’ but I’ve waited too long.” She closes her eyes, looking pained. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

I stare at her for a moment, not sure of what to make of her tears. Hesitantly, I tap her hand. She looks up at me, and I smile. 

“It’s alright,” I say. “I know I complain a lot, but you can leave it to me if it’s that important to the family.” I turn to my baby sister who looks on with curiosity. She’s far too thin for a growing child, but her intelligence seems to make up for it. I grin at her. “I’ll do it for her.”

“Thank you, son,” my mother cries, choking a little on a sob as she clutches my hand tightly. “Never give up in there. I believe you can make it.”

“I know you can.”

-----

I wake up from the dream with a jolt, the floor beneath me beginning to shake. I quickly stand up, eyes wide at the sudden change. I turn to look at what’s going on around me but I only see darkness and I curse as I remember where I am. 

“Deteriorating,” I choke out through a dry throat, the word barely audible against the rumbling of whatever liminal space this hell is. I begin to run in the opposite direction of the sound, barely remembering to scoop up the little flame and its remaining wax in my hand. I dash forward, covering the fire with my other hand to keep the wind from putting it out. It burns, it hurts, and everything is terrifying.

But I have to make it out. I have to bring the fire to the other side. 

I have to get my family out of hell.

So I keep running, chased by cracking nothingness trailing right behind me, a golden flame in my hand that I am yet to fully understand.

I promised I would save my family. I promised I would keep our flame alive. I promised I would help us get out of hell.

So I run, because there is far too much for me to lose if I stop.

-----

Dedicated to all those fighting through hell for a better life. Hold on to that light and keep marching forward.