hell is entered through the junk yard

hell is entered through the junk yard

fiction
edward w pritchard

My recently dead friend was driving the big old car very fast through the back streets toward the local junk yard. I was in the back seat.

A childhood friend also long dead waved to us as we entered between the cluttered junk cars and piles of old parts. Cranes and bull dozers pushed the old car parts about.

My friend chatted to me into the back seat like a cab driver entertaining a paying customer. My friend backed the big powerful car too quickly back first into a row of junk cars. The car we were in had a door at the rear like a station wagon, or was it a hearse.

A large ferocious black dog guarded the entrance to a subterranean space that the swinging back door of our vehicle was now blocking. The dog viciously tried to get at me in the car.

Calmly  I prepared to enter the descending road into hell that the large black dog Cerberus loyally guarded.