[ WP ] What is the punishment you would receive in hell .

**CLUNK** 
 
 *My head. What the-? Where am I? * 
 
 I'm surrounded by... nothing. It was n't darkness; no, it was too dark to be that. There was just... nothing. Like staring into a black hole while your eight inches inside it already. 
 
 I guess the clunk was my head, hitting the desk I'm sitting at. *Oh! The desk! If only-! * 
 
 *If only I could remember where I was. * 
 
 The desk seemed to be glowing, as did the paper and pen. There was no light being given off by it, but it was still visible. No light was anywhere. Only the desk. 
 
 It had been just a normal Tuesday night, sitting in my `` home office,'' or, as others have called it, my `` basement.'' I remembered hearing quite the ruckus out my window and when I went to investigate it... *What had happened? * 
 
 The window was closed, and something was happening on the other side. That's why I walked over to it. But what did I see? I remember a very angry looking Eastern-European man standing there, and in his hand was a- 
 
 *Oh. * 
 
 The realization hit me. That particular Eastern-European had shot me. Why was I here though? Is this Purgatory? What am I in Purgatory for? I was a good Catholic boy all my life. This certainly is n't heaven. That must mean... 
 
 Hell. That's where I am. They say each soul has its own personal Hell. I guess this one was supposed to be mine... and it was. 
 
 In front of my on the desk was my novel. The smudged piece of shit that not a single publishing company so far had wanted anything to do with. A man appeared on the other side of the desk. He has horns and wings that appeared to suck in the darkness so he had an *even darker* aura. 
 
 **Well, looks like you've made it, human. Let's see here... ah! Mister Mica Horace. How are you this fine... well, I'd say evening, but we do n't really *have* time down here. I think you'll find that these accommodations are to your liking. You have everything you'll ever need here: A desk, a chair, a notebook with unlimited paper and a bottomless fountain pen. If you need anything, do n't hesitate to ask. Remember, you can only get to Heaven once you've completed the book... and make it good. Goodbye for now! I have a feeling we will become very dear friends... ** 
 
 It was my worse nightmare. Complete this book and make it good? My days as a starving writer were finally over, but it was n't any better! Now I was just a writer who ca n't feel starvation! Damn that Slavic gangbanger. Perhaps Death will let me have a word with him when he's delivered, in his own personal Hell.
