welcome to

"ALL THE HELLS"

horror
by
Neal Romanek

www.nealromanek.com


music


II – Ixion

Why don’t women burn in Hell?

All across the Hells we see only wicked men condemned to endless tortures for their missteps in life. Sisyphus and Tantalus – those two homos – for a start – and their pal Ixion, the least famous of the menage a trois.

King Ixion, after a long period of resentment against his father-in-law, killed him.  The father-in law-had stolen some of Ixion’s horses because Ixion had ducked paying the promised fee for marrying his daughter, Dia. Eventually Ixion went insane from the guilt of what he’d done – the murder, that is, of wife’s father. It wasn’t murder in and of itself that was so wrong. It was the soiling of the sacrosant social structure, the violation of the universally accepted norms. He’d spat upon courtly etiquette, you see. So what happened then…

…well, the story gets complicated, which is why we don’t hear about Ixion much these days.

burning wheel

King Ixion was summoned to Heaven to stand before the Best & Biggest God, Zeus, who gave him a chance to make amends. Instead, Ixion made a pass at Zeus’s wife, Hera. So Zeus, in an act very passive-aggressive for the King Of The Gods, created a cloud that looked exactly like Hera. One night, he floated the cloud into Ixion’s bedroom – in the newly redecorated East Wing of his palace – and Ixion tried to fuck it.

Not just tried. He did fuck it. He fucked the cloud. And Zeus caught it on camera – Olympus was known to be the most surveilled palace in the Heavens at that time.

Caught in The Act, Ixion jumped out of bed, pointing his finger at the cloud, saying “She lead me on!”

Zeus shot him and – because he’s King Of The Wide Blue & Black Heavens and can do anything he wants – sentenced King Ixion to be strapped to the back of a flying saucer for all eternity.

This spinning wheel of fire – spinning, spitting sparks – would sail across the sky again and again and again and again…and Ixion, well, he would just have to put up with it, wouldn’t he?

In nine months, the Hera-shaped cloud gave birth to the race of Centaurs – half-man, half-horse. This makes one wonder: From whence did these equine genes originate? And why in Hades would Zeus keep a cloud shaped like his wife around for nine months?

In later times, as the Heavens became more crowded, Ixion’s blazing bed was pulled down and transported to the Underworld. Probably, Gloomy Pluto Lord Of The Dead bought it for a conversation piece – the ultimate wagon-wheel coffee table/novelty lamp combo.

Illuminating the caverns of the underworld with his torment, I bet Ixion missed sailing through the clouds.

In other news: Ixion’s wife Dia gave birth to a son fathered by Zeus. This royal son became a great horseman. With a steed between his legs and the open sky smiling down, he wandered the wide plains of Northern Greece alone and happy.

The Artist Prays

Soon after I arrived in the Hells, I saw an Artist.

This wretched little fuck – hateful little fuck – squatting like a toad, he had eyes the size of trashcan lids and little desiccated testicles.

Poor chap.

He’d been condemned to gaze across a smoky vale toward the hillside haunt of my hero, Sisyphus, and was required to describe, via any medium he chose, each of Sisyphus’s attempts to push his stone to the top of the hill. Each description of the uphill battle was to be unique and original and new and unlike any of the previous ones – fresh.

Every time Sisyphus’s rock finally rolled back downhill – with Sisyphus sobbing after – the Artist would approach his workbench, loosening his shoulders like a batter, and before beginning his task, would pray the following:


God of Apollo, God of the Muses, God of terrible Typhon,
God of Prometheus and God of Epimetheus,
God of Fools, God of Bards,
God of horsehair, grass, and planets
God of silver, oil, and ichor
God of rock and clay,
God of hands
God of all flesh, and all voices of flesh,

May my work today disclose You further to the world.

As I passed, the Artist threw himself at my feet, begging forgiveness for a life of ingratitude and self-centeredness. He made me puke.