About This Book
As the opening could be seen before his feet, suddenly Dyllon shot out of the tube for a quite a few yards. He rolled to the right and then finally came to a stop on the floor. A small gloved hand reached out to assist him to his feet. After Dyllon was able to orientate himself to his immediate surroundings, he saw that the tiny guy had small horns budding from either side of his forehead. At first, Dyllon chuckled at such a layperson attempt at scaring him. But as Dyllon heard what sounded like forceful organ music playing, he twisted his head to the right. That was when he saw him. He sat on a dark wooden throne and he was bathed in subdued red light. On the rational side, this was simply a large, muscular guy whose half naked body was covered in red paint. Behind him, stood tall organ pipes from which the strong, haunting music seemed to be emanating. On the irrational side, Dyllon prayed that he was just having a bad dream. The demon, who sat about fifteen feet away, bore huge horns which curled until they finally pointed in Dyllon's direction. He was fingering a rather sharp looking pitch fork in his right hand. A broad smile suddenly grew on his face as he stared deeply into Dyllon's eyes. With his left hand, the creature motioned his index finger in a coiling motion as if he were inviting Dyllon to walk towards him. Every fantasy, childhood fear or nightmare, could not compete with what Dyllon was experiencing. He knew that this had to all just be a joke, but he could not feel even mildly amused. His only thought was that this pit he had fallen into had to be Hell and that the being before him was truly the Devil incarnate. As he stood there trembling before the crimson figure, Dyllon realized that he had a decision to make.
