When I arrived in hell, I was greeted by a concierge who showed me to my room. It was beautiful, providing me with my every desire. I can order any meal, a tv with any media, a computer with internet, a spacious bathroom, a garden and gym just outside the doors. I was even allowed visitors. He smiled and told me the rules of hell.

-You may stay in your hotel room for a maximum of 100 years -Every month spent in your room raises your hell level -You will spend 1 year in your hell level for every month in your room -If you choose to stay in your hell level, it will never raise

I asked what a hell level meant. He said every level of hell is a different torture, the higher the level, the more painful. He left me to enjoy a month of the room.

The first month was heaven, I ate everything my heart desired. I worked out and enjoyed a bit of nature. I even socialized with other guests. It was getting a bit repetitive so I even looked forward to level 1.

I was transported to level 1. It was a bright room with a chair, not so bad. Then the crying started, that damn baby crying. The first week was the hardest, then I got used to it and slept through days of the noise. The hardest part was boredom. After 11 months and 29 days, I was ready to go.

Teleporting back, the concierge was there, asking how many months I would like. I didn’t want to get too bored so I played it safe with 3 months. It was 3 months of heaven all over again. Enjoying food, working on my catalog of movies and hanging with other bastards of hell. I wondered what level 4 of hell would be like.

I was transported again in my sleep. This time no baby cries. The temperature slowly rose until it was uncomfortable on the skin, making it hard to breathe. The brightness shined brighter m until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Spikes began coming out of the floors so I had to lay on my back to make it somewhat tolerable. This is a bit more extreme but I could probably tolerate this. After hours of this torture I began missing my room. I had 3 years of this to go. Near the end of my torture, I thought I would go mad. Nothing to do, no hunger, only annoyance that is this heat and uncomfortable floors. I didn’t think it was very creative torture but 3 years was more than enough, I had to go back to my room.

After finally being transported back. It was the best moment of relief in my life, until the concierge appeared and asked what I would like to do, go back to hell level 4 or stay here.

99 years and 11 months later, I’m beginning to regret my decision.