The strange thing about Hell, when
she paused long enough to think about it, was there was no lake of fire, no
inferno of flames. Her surroundings were
so bland one could go mad with boredom looking at them. The curved ceiling, the walls, and the floor
appeared to be granite, but smoothed over as if carved by a constant
underground river. Smooth, but not
polished. There was nothing to relieve
the blandness, no crags, no crannies, no nooks, no hard edges anywhere.
For all the time she’d been there …
it could have been days or weeks or eternity … she’d never seen a light
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