The Gates of Hell

Slowly, he approached the gate that was wreathed in fire, he could feel the heat from where he was standing. Just beyond it he could make out the people (were they people?) arising from sleep, and getting up from their beds of nails. A horned demon awaited his arrival eagerly, with a list ready in hand, to check off his name. For these were the very gates of hell.

He desperately tried to remember all the sins he had never confessed, but could not think of any. Was God not listening to his confessions? Had he not been forgiven? He had recited countless verses in hopes for forgiveness, but now it all seemed pointless. He reached the gate.

“What’s your name?”, the demon asked, as rudely as he could. But buried in his thoughts, Ashraf didn’t hear him.

“Your name!” the demon shouted again.

“Ashraf” he stated with confidence he did not feel.
The demon flipped through his list quickly, then scanned it again slowly. Ashraf watched his tiny red eyes repeatedly look over the piece of paper.

“It’s not here! Your name isn't here.” Ashraf glanced up in surprise.

“You're in the wrong place, aren't you? You're supposed to be up there.” He pointed towards the sky, where for the first time Ashraf noticed there was a small circle of light. As if on cue, a staircase descended, and without any questions, Ashraf began climbing towards the heaven where he knew he belonged.