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Published July 20, 2018 by M.C.Queen

Reflections on Writing "Memories of a Soul in the Underworld."

I finally finished my free story Memories of a Soul in the Underworld, so I thought I’d take some time to reflect on the story and the writing process. Here is some insight into the writing process and my thoughts on the story.

Story themes

For me, the point of the story is someone overcoming their terrible circumstances and past tramas to reach a goal. Over the years I encountered many people who would say I wanted to do this, but I didn’t have the opportunity, or I tried once, but I failed. Sometimes these were people who could achieved their goal, if only they tried a little harder, or still could, but they didn’t believe that it was possible. If my story could inspire someone like that to reach for their goal, then I think that writing it may have been worth it.

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Published July 24, 2016 by M.C.Queen

Memories of a Soul in the Underworld Chapter 5

Story Summary

Ethan is a soul in the Underworld with no memory of his life on Earth. He is bought and sold by various masters for centuries. Traveling from large industrial towns to scorching hot deserts. During his journey he picks up the skills, knowledge and magic to escape his enslavement. He runs with the intent of living a free life, but is pursued by agents until he's cornered on a remote mountain range. With little time left, Ethan begins to recount his life and masters in the hope of leaving a record of his existence. These are his memories.

Click here for the Chapter Index!

My old master accumulated a collection of magical artifacts during his time alive, so I knew that his study was the best place to search for the things that I needed.

I silently snuck into his bedroom that afternoon, past Mira who was sobbing into one of Alistair's shirts, and took the key from a small drawer beside his bed.

The study was smaller than the library, but still large enough to contain three cabinets of magical artifacts, several bookshelves, and a desk in the corner overflowing with notes. The floor was littered with books that Alistair had pulled off the shelf, then aimlessly discarded when he couldn't find what he wanted. There were also maps of the Underworld decorating the walls, and I'd later regret not studying them more closely.

"Sorry for the intrusion, Master," I apologized and quietly crept inside.

I walked past a bookshelf which was stuffed with mouldy encyclopedias on magic. I'd attempted browsing through them before, but unlike the book in my hands, the language was too old and complex for me then. I was always envious of how a party boy like Alistair could recite them with ease, and he pulled off most of his magic by chanting those ancient words.

I pulled one of the books off the shelf to take a closer look, but it immediately ripped into two and the pages crumbled to the floor.

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Published July 10, 2016 by M.C.Queen

Memories of a Soul in The Underworld Chapter 4

Story Summary

Click here for the Chapter Index!

Angela, Alphonse, Mira, Anya, Felix, and I lined up in the front garden the next morning to wish our master a safe trip. The army forced him into the war, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.

I don't know why they were interested in a pampered aristocrat like Alistair. I can only assume that the shitty king thought that conscripting magical users was the best way to crush his adversaries. This cruel strategy worked in the end, but my master had even less experience than me when it came to combat and war.

Alphonse nervously brushed a crease in his suit for the twentieth time that morning, and Anya kept readjusting her hair. Mira was sobbing uncontrollably, and I was certain that I saw a small glimmer of sadness within Angela's dark lifeless eyes. Felix also looked anxious, but as concerned as I was for our master, I hadn't considered the possibility that he may not return.

Alistair's face was cold, passive, and he was trying his best not to cry. He quickly turned away once or twice to wipe stray tears from his eyes.

"I'll be back soon." Alistair's gaze flicked between us like he was desperately trying to memorize our faces. "I expect you all to be on your best behavior during my absence, so that means no throwing sharp things."

"We'll try, Master," muttered Alphonse, but I remember him and Mira getting into several knife fights over the following months.

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Published July 01, 2016 by M.C.Queen

Memories of a Soul in the Underworld Chapter 3

Story Summary

Click here for the Chapter Index!

Every week I'd watch Alistair become intoxicated and flirt with anyone he could. Men, women, and even his own soul slaves.

As much as I slowly came to accept my master's strange ways, the flirting always got under my skin. I don't know if he was intentionally trying to mess with us, or just did it without knowing, but Alistair successfully turned half his souls against each other as they fruitlessly struggled for his affection.

"Traitor!" Mira screamed and threw a knife at my head when I fled into the kitchen carrying a tray full of wine glasses. "Trash! Filth! Waste of two hundred pounds!"

The knives all painlessly passed through my ghostly body like air, but I dropped my tray in shock. The glasses shattered against the floor with a crash.

"So you think your the master's new favorite soul now, do you, pretty boy?" said Alphonse as he leaned against the kitchen bench behind her. Arms angrily crossed over his chest as he glared down at me.

Alphonse and Mira stupidly competed for Alistair's attention on a daily basis, but they decided to join forces with Angela, who must have also been there.

Angela was a small soul who looked no older than seven. Dressed up in expensive children's clothes with several ribbons in her curly hair. She appeared small and innocent, but that girl was over four hundred. All the centuries in Hell had warped her childish soul into something dark and unrecognizable. Even I was often mortified.

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Published June 17, 2016 by M.C.Queen

Memories of a Soul in the Underworld Chapter Two.

Story Summary

Click here for the Chapter Index!

So many years have passed that my memories have become vague and foggy, but some events and people stand out above others. One of them being my first master.

The man was an overindulged aristocrat who went by the name Alistair. He may have looked like a thin young man in his early twenties, with gleaming long blond hair and a wicked smile, but that sneaky playboy must have been over two hundred.

Such an age was something he obtained through demonic magic.

Unlike me, Alistair came from a well renowned family that had money to waste on an expensive academy for their precious only son. There he mastered over one thousand magic spells, including the one for immortality.

"How fortunate you are," said his overweight carriage driver on one of my first days in Hell. "Most guys round these parts treat their soul slaves like trash. But Master Alistair's a decent bloke, and immortal. You're set for the rest of eternity without having to suffer like those unfortunates out there." He pointed to the street outside.

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Published June 06, 2016 by M.C.Queen

Memories of a Soul in the Underworld Chapter 1

Story Summary

Long ago I sold my soul and doomed myself to an eternity in the Underworld. I was treated like a slave for centuries, but no more! I'll find a way out of this destiny or die trying!

Click here for the Chapter Index!

Today I continued the never ending trek over hazardous mountains, and damn snow that comes up to my knees. There isn't much else in this desolate wasteland. Every dull white valley and frozen field looks the same to me now, so there's been nothing worth writing about.

Until today.

I've been careful to avoid all villages and towns like the plague. Thinking of myself as a ghost who haunts this depressing wasteland and leaves nothing behind. But today I ran into my first living being in weeks.

It was an elderly mortal man with long white hair blowing wildly behind him in the wind. Covered from head to foot in several layers of mismatched woollen clothes like a street beggar. Waddling through the deep snow with a slight limp on his right side.

I was too caught up in past regrets and memories of dead people, to notice his approach, so I didn't see him coming until it was already too late.

I suppose that I could have fled. I should have fled. But he was already there, and I was so certain that I could crawl myself out of that shitty situation without running.

I quickly covered my face with my tatty hood, hunched over, and stumbled like my back was permanently bent. My barely covered feet tried to subtly veer away from my new foe, but the sharp cliff on my left side, that overlooked a murderous drop, meant that I had to watch in terror as he slowly wobbled closer and closer.

At last his crumbling body was before my own.

I lowered my head further to hide my ghostly complexion, and nodded like a real mortal to acknowledge the old fool. I even went one step further and croaked a strained "good morning," because that's how damn kind and generous I am.

The old mortal mumbled a quiet "hello" and continued on his way.

I was so sure that my superb acting skills and centuries of experience had fooled him-

But then that shitty old mortal spun around on his crippled feet and looked back.

There was no denying that he'd realized that something wasn't right about me and my shoddy potato sack coat. His beady little eyes examining me from head to foot.

Perhaps the mortal was only interested in a stranger who was wandering these lifeless fields, but my overly paranoid mind screamed out that I'd been exposed!

I quickly hobbled away, then sprinted as soon as the old fool was out of sight. Scampering over large rocks until night fell.

I pray that I'm safe in this deep dark hole that I've dug for myself.

But perhaps there was a time long ago when this vagrant lifestyle of running and hiding was completely unimaginable. Back in the days when I still lived on Earth.

I can't tell you why I sold my soul. None of us can. But what could possibly be worth agreeing to spend an eternity in the Underworld? Just like countless others, I was auctioned like an object, treated like a slave, and forced to do unspeakable things for several corrupt mortals.

I may have escaped my last master, but my problems are far from over. After weeks of running, I've had no choice but to escape to the most desolate and remote place in Hell.

Hades Teeth.

Here the snow falls for hours without end, and strong winds howl across jagged mountain peaks. I often lose my way as the nights grow longer. Giving me no choice but to seek shelter until sunrise.

But I curse every minute that I have to remain in the same place.

There's no time for this troublesome snow.

I may not have much time left at all.

Day by day my hope slowly diminishes. The foolish confidence I had before is almost gone. How can I possibly achieve freedom when every soul before me has failed? How can I keep my broken mind sane?

That's why I must record everything while I still have the chance.

I may have foolishly wasted decades by giving in to blind servitude, but others shouldn't repeat my mistakes. Other souls should know of my journey. The places I went, the things I went through, the knowledge that I plundered from this world.

I suppose that I should start from the beginning, or in my case, the only beginning that I know. To me, life began on the day that I arrived at the home of my very first master. A weirdo who foolishly deluded me into thinking that Hell wasn't such a bad place.

Go to chapter 2 ----->