Eponine blinked and looked around. What was this place? It looked like a hotel of
some kind, with its dark marble floor and counter and that velvet rope surrounding that
long line of people. She shuffled cautiously to the end of the line because, really, what
else was she going to do?
"Monsieur," she hissed to the man in front of her.
He ignored her.
"Monsieur!"
He turned and glared at her.
"Where am I?"
He pointed silently to a colossal brass plaque mounted on the far wall.
"Vestibule," it read. He rolled his eyes and faced forward again.
"Christ, not very friendly here, are they?" she thought.
…………………………………………………………………………
It was a dog's age before Eponine finally reached the front of the line. Before her
stood a long counter, behind which several men in natty suits sat interviewing people and
pouring over books.
"Next!" a weary, authoritative voice rang out.
"Finally," she grumbled.
"Name?"
"Eponine Thenardier."
The man scanned the pages of the bulky ledger in front of him.
"Here we are," he said.
He stared at the page a moment, and then looked at Eponine. Back to the page.
Back to Eponine. Back. Forth. Again. The silence was growing uncomfortable.
"Well, what is it? What does that stupid book say about me?" she asked.
He clucked his tongue and shook his head.
"You're a tough one, missy. Mmhmm. Tough, tough, tough." He scanned the
page again. "See, the recommendation here on the page is Seventh Circle, Ring
One….but according to your record that doesn't seem right."
"What are you talking about? What's all this about circles and rings? What the
hell is this place?" she cried.
The man chuckled. "Oh, it's a delight when they use the "h" word."
Chortle, smirk, and raise an eyebrow.
"Ahem. You're in the vestibule of hell, my dear. It's just a matter of finding the
proper circle for you." He put on a pair of half-spectacles and began making notes on
Eponine's page.
Eponine, for her part, was stunned. Hell? Really? No, seriously-- *hell?*
"Monsieur, their must be some mistake! I don't belong in hell! I came near
sainthood via martyrdom. I should be at the right hand of the Father! I sacrificed myself
to the altar of love! I was selfless. I pushed aside my own feelings to make my beloved
happy. I took a bullet for him and saved his life!"
She began pacing frantically.
"Is this what self-sacrifice yields? Eternal damnation? What about all that tripe
about their being a light that never dies for wretched of the Earth? Aren't the meek and
the hungry supposed to be rewarded? DOESN'T ANYONE READ THE GODDAMN
BEATITUDES DOWN HERE?"
"Shh! Miss, really, you're making an ass of yourself. Calm down!" the man said,
appalled.
Eponine could not be sated. She thrust her hand in his face.
"See this hole? SEE IT? Looks an awful lot like a stigmata, doesn't it? What does
that tell you, huh? I was selfless! I was brave! I kept my faith and kind heart in the face of
abysmal poverty! I demand to speak with your supervisor!"
The man threw up his hands with equal parts disgust and defeat and retreated
through the doorway behind him. Eponine panted. Delivering that tirade had been quite
exhausting. Moments later her caseworker reappeared with another man, this one wearing
an even nattier suit and a red tie.
"Hello, I'm Virgil. Is there a problem, miss?" he asked.
"Yes! My name is Eponine Thenardier and I've been sent here by mistake. I
demand to have my case re-evaluated."
Virgil nodded and sat down to look at the ledger.
"Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Hmmmmm. Ah, yes. Mmm."
Eponine fidgeted as she waited for him to exonerate her.
"Well, miss, I'm afraid it's no mistake….though you are quite a challenge to
place."
Eponine turned white and stood speechless with shock.
He went on. "See, the recommendation is for the Seventh Circle, Ring One...that's
where murderers go to be submerged in vats of hot blood that are guarded by centaurs
who shoot any soul what attempts to rise….but according to the file yours was only an
attempted murder." Virgil looked to the original caseworker for affirmation. "Apparently
the boy survived the ordeal?" Her original caseworker nodded. "Yes. Hmm. Then, really,
you don't belong in Ring One. Perhaps, Seventh Circle, Ring Two. That may work. For
suicides, yes…there you'll be trapped in a new body and tortured by tangles of black
brush and gnarled trees."
Her original caseworker cleared his throat and whispered something in Virgil's
ear.
"Oh yes, that's true," Virgil said. He turned to Eponine. "You could also go to the
Second Circle, with the lustful, and be blown about forever by stormy winds….and
there's always the Fifth Circle, where the sullen and angry are submerged in the River
Styx, forever making ripples in the water with their tortured sighs." He paused and
glanced again at her file. "Oh my! A thief as well! Well then, you might also be put in the
Eighth Circle, Bolgia Seven, and be bound for eternity in a pit of snakes. My goodness,
you were quite the evil little sinner in your life. What are we to do with you now?"
Virgil and the caseworker hemmed and hawed and argued for a bit.
Attempted murder. Thievery. Suicide. Lustfulness. Sullenness and anger.
"Ah! She could also fit in Circle Eight, Bolgia Eight with the Evil Counselors!
After coaxing that poor dolt of a lawyer to the barricades and all!" exclaimed the
caseworker.
"Bolgia Ten! Impersonators!"
"Circle Nine, Round One! Traitors to family!"
It seemed the longer they spoke the more of her evil deeds they managed to
unearth.
As Virgil and the caseworker debated on and on she thought back on her life with
the utmost regret.
"If I had known I'd end up here in anyway, I would have killed that little bitch,
Cosette…killed her nice and slow…."
some kind, with its dark marble floor and counter and that velvet rope surrounding that
long line of people. She shuffled cautiously to the end of the line because, really, what
else was she going to do?
"Monsieur," she hissed to the man in front of her.
He ignored her.
"Monsieur!"
He turned and glared at her.
"Where am I?"
He pointed silently to a colossal brass plaque mounted on the far wall.
"Vestibule," it read. He rolled his eyes and faced forward again.
"Christ, not very friendly here, are they?" she thought.
…………………………………………………………………………
It was a dog's age before Eponine finally reached the front of the line. Before her
stood a long counter, behind which several men in natty suits sat interviewing people and
pouring over books.
"Next!" a weary, authoritative voice rang out.
"Finally," she grumbled.
"Name?"
"Eponine Thenardier."
The man scanned the pages of the bulky ledger in front of him.
"Here we are," he said.
He stared at the page a moment, and then looked at Eponine. Back to the page.
Back to Eponine. Back. Forth. Again. The silence was growing uncomfortable.
"Well, what is it? What does that stupid book say about me?" she asked.
He clucked his tongue and shook his head.
"You're a tough one, missy. Mmhmm. Tough, tough, tough." He scanned the
page again. "See, the recommendation here on the page is Seventh Circle, Ring
One….but according to your record that doesn't seem right."
"What are you talking about? What's all this about circles and rings? What the
hell is this place?" she cried.
The man chuckled. "Oh, it's a delight when they use the "h" word."
Chortle, smirk, and raise an eyebrow.
"Ahem. You're in the vestibule of hell, my dear. It's just a matter of finding the
proper circle for you." He put on a pair of half-spectacles and began making notes on
Eponine's page.
Eponine, for her part, was stunned. Hell? Really? No, seriously-- *hell?*
"Monsieur, their must be some mistake! I don't belong in hell! I came near
sainthood via martyrdom. I should be at the right hand of the Father! I sacrificed myself
to the altar of love! I was selfless. I pushed aside my own feelings to make my beloved
happy. I took a bullet for him and saved his life!"
She began pacing frantically.
"Is this what self-sacrifice yields? Eternal damnation? What about all that tripe
about their being a light that never dies for wretched of the Earth? Aren't the meek and
the hungry supposed to be rewarded? DOESN'T ANYONE READ THE GODDAMN
BEATITUDES DOWN HERE?"
"Shh! Miss, really, you're making an ass of yourself. Calm down!" the man said,
appalled.
Eponine could not be sated. She thrust her hand in his face.
"See this hole? SEE IT? Looks an awful lot like a stigmata, doesn't it? What does
that tell you, huh? I was selfless! I was brave! I kept my faith and kind heart in the face of
abysmal poverty! I demand to speak with your supervisor!"
The man threw up his hands with equal parts disgust and defeat and retreated
through the doorway behind him. Eponine panted. Delivering that tirade had been quite
exhausting. Moments later her caseworker reappeared with another man, this one wearing
an even nattier suit and a red tie.
"Hello, I'm Virgil. Is there a problem, miss?" he asked.
"Yes! My name is Eponine Thenardier and I've been sent here by mistake. I
demand to have my case re-evaluated."
Virgil nodded and sat down to look at the ledger.
"Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Hmmmmm. Ah, yes. Mmm."
Eponine fidgeted as she waited for him to exonerate her.
"Well, miss, I'm afraid it's no mistake….though you are quite a challenge to
place."
Eponine turned white and stood speechless with shock.
He went on. "See, the recommendation is for the Seventh Circle, Ring One...that's
where murderers go to be submerged in vats of hot blood that are guarded by centaurs
who shoot any soul what attempts to rise….but according to the file yours was only an
attempted murder." Virgil looked to the original caseworker for affirmation. "Apparently
the boy survived the ordeal?" Her original caseworker nodded. "Yes. Hmm. Then, really,
you don't belong in Ring One. Perhaps, Seventh Circle, Ring Two. That may work. For
suicides, yes…there you'll be trapped in a new body and tortured by tangles of black
brush and gnarled trees."
Her original caseworker cleared his throat and whispered something in Virgil's
ear.
"Oh yes, that's true," Virgil said. He turned to Eponine. "You could also go to the
Second Circle, with the lustful, and be blown about forever by stormy winds….and
there's always the Fifth Circle, where the sullen and angry are submerged in the River
Styx, forever making ripples in the water with their tortured sighs." He paused and
glanced again at her file. "Oh my! A thief as well! Well then, you might also be put in the
Eighth Circle, Bolgia Seven, and be bound for eternity in a pit of snakes. My goodness,
you were quite the evil little sinner in your life. What are we to do with you now?"
Virgil and the caseworker hemmed and hawed and argued for a bit.
Attempted murder. Thievery. Suicide. Lustfulness. Sullenness and anger.
"Ah! She could also fit in Circle Eight, Bolgia Eight with the Evil Counselors!
After coaxing that poor dolt of a lawyer to the barricades and all!" exclaimed the
caseworker.
"Bolgia Ten! Impersonators!"
"Circle Nine, Round One! Traitors to family!"
It seemed the longer they spoke the more of her evil deeds they managed to
unearth.
As Virgil and the caseworker debated on and on she thought back on her life with
the utmost regret.
"If I had known I'd end up here in anyway, I would have killed that little bitch,
Cosette…killed her nice and slow…."