For all those who believe that love is eternal.
“Colt? Colt?” Dennis called out. Everything around him was blackness. “Colt?” he asked again, but with less confidence.
Where the hell was he? Was he dead, was this Hell? Why did he think he was dead? He couldn’t answer that. Maybe old Father Jenkins was right and homosexuals were cast into the flames of eternal damnation when they died. But if this was Hell, where were the flames, the red hot pitch forks, the screams…? It wasn’t hot like Hell, but wasn’t cold either. Maybe seventy degrees. Hell was surely hotter than that.
Dennis stamped his foot. The ground—or whatever it was—felt solid. He bent down to feel. It was smooth, like stone or glass, but not cold. Sniffing, he couldn’t detect any odors. Had he lost his sense of smell? Raisin
