Proper Burial


Jesse WildShoe died last night and today was the funeral and usually there’s a wake but none of us had the patience or energy to mourn for days so we buried Jesse right away and dug the hole deep because Jesse could fancydance like God had touched his feet. Anyhow we dug the hole all day and since the ground was still a little frozen we kept doing the kerosene trick and melting the ice and frost and when we threw a match into the bottom of the grave it looked like I suppose hell must look and it was scary. There we were ten little Indians making a hell on earth for a fancydancer who already had enough of that shit and probably wouldn’t want to have any more of it and I kept wondering if maybe we should just take his body high up in the mountains and bury him in the snow that never goes away. Maybe we just sort of freeze him so he doesn’t have to feel anything anymore and especially not some crazy ideas of heaven or hell.

The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie

Hell is Limitless War


Hell was war. Once Ingrid saw the metaphor, it was obvious.Hell had no cities, only camps; no borders, only front lines.

She had seen a horde of fox-like things launch artillery shells at a fortification of stone creatures, and an eyeless giant with a flamethrower lay waste to a swarm of blood-sucking insects. The chatter of machine gun fire was as ubiquitous as birdsong. Hell might have hunger with no food and fatigue with no sleep, but it seemed to have limitless ammunition for everyone but her.

Gooseberry Bluff Community College of Magic: The Thirteenth Rib by David J. Schwartz