The world around me froze as my favorite putter, a KC-Pro Aviar, hit the the left of the chains and spit out. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, I lost. Everyone cheered and sprinted towards my competitor. I lost the 2016 Disc Golf World Championship by an easy 30 foot putt, in a tie breaker. The happiness around me just made my anger larger. I felt the deep rage build inside of me. I was not mad because I missed the putt, but instead that he succeeded where I failed. His name was Andrew Camiske, standing 5 foot 6 inches, he was short for his age. He had been disc golfing for 10 years, ever since he was 13. Every single tournament I ever went to, he was there. He would always beat me by 1. I felt the anger boiling now as he was handed the trophy for his win. With each word of his thank you speech I felt my head pounding. Every bone in my body wanted to run to him and choke him to death. I clinched my fists tighter. The world started to fade, starting from the very outsides of my eyes till eventually all but a tunnel leading straight to Andrew was left. As the final bit of world disappeared I heard other people around me hit the ground just as Andrew hit the ground too.
I woke up in a very dark room. The heat was similar to the middle of July in Florida. I was used to the temp because of the amount of tournaments played in this weather. The room was lit in an instant by torches on all 4 sides. The first thing I noticed was who was here with me. Andrew was down here for one, still with a smile on his face from winning. 8 others besides us 2 were here. Drew, my best friend and tournament buddy. He got 10th at worlds. Isaac Farlom, the 9th place finisher was here. I had done a few tournaments with him before, but he was never anything that impressed me. 8th place, Andy Kavalere, was here. His turnover shot that faded right was one of the best. Ben Lopson, the best roller shot in the country was here. I think he finished in 7th place. Erick Heartson, 6th place. I always enjoyed playing with him because he stood no taller than 5 feet and had the best humor I had ever seen. Top 5 finisher, William Shoestruck. He had the best attitude out of everyone here, always smiling and letting people know they did well. 4th place Marshall Littlerock was the c***yest. I always would beat him by at least 3 strokes, but he found an excuse to how he could have beat me. And finally the bronze medalist Mitchell Insmith, the tallest and best putter here. I’ve seen this boy sink 70 foot putts like no one could ever imagine. I could tell no one knew what was happening by the dazed and confused look on their faces. I took this opportunity to get to know my surroundings. We were all in a box made of rock. No ordinary rock, red, like blood red. The room was about 20 feet by 20 feet with a 10 foot ceiling. The smell of sulfur was very strong in the room. The torches seemed to just be part of the rock that was extended out like an arm. The air in the room seemed to be stagnant, as if it had been there for a long time. There was no sign of a door anywhere. Everyone began pushing on walls in attempt to find an escape but all efforts were futile. Through the walls we heard a loud hissing sound and a few loud thuds as a platform extended from a wall slightly off the ground. The rock on the wall above the platform cracked open and out walked a man. This man was glowing an angelical light, so much that he was hard to look at.
“I, am Lucifer, and you all are guests in my home,” he announced in a low voice.
“Pretty small home you got here,” Marshall shot back at an instant.
The man raised a hand, and leather shot out, bonding Marshall’s lower jaw to his head. “Please, let me finish before you interrupt me. So as I was saying,” He continued, “this is my home, my domain, if you please. The room you are in is a small holding room for my playground that many of you know of as Hell.” Gasps could be heard from the other contenders, “I wanted to first congratulate all of you on ajob well done at the World Disc Golf Tournament, an event I personally attended as a spectator. I must say all of you show a lot of talent, which is why I brought you all here today,” he concluded.
Truthfully, I was scared s***less that we were in Hell. This was easily going to be the worst experience of my life. I kept my thoughts to myself. If I learned anything from competing it was don’t let your opponent know your weaknesses. The rock behind us began to rumble. As it split open we were dragged backwards into the lightless void of Hell. Light shined from the sky, illuminating a demonic disc golf hole.
“This is the first of many my friends,” Lucifer spoke. “The game is simple. Classic disc golf with a twist, each hole’s loser, dies.”
The first hole looked like an easy 200 foot hole. It was moderately woody, if you can call giant pillars of fiery rock shaped like trees, woody. I saw a skip shot path that had to break left after the skip. I felt a weight land on my back. I looked back to see my disc bag with all my discs. Everyone had very similar high hyzer, a shoot that goes up far right and shoots back left, that landed a good 60 feet away from the hole. My shot was amazing. I threw my Buzz, it skipped perfectly and hit the pole of the basket. I sat at a drop in birdie where most of the others were a hard birdie. Drew was last up. He tossed his disc with such force that it flew slightly understable, meaning it faded to the right. This type of shot would have worked if it wasn’t for a tree. His disc hit hard and fell to the ground over 150 feet away from the hole. We all finished up the hole and waited to see what happened next. A giant tv screen hovered in front of us and read off the scores. I see my own name at the top of the list along with Andrew, Mitch, and Marshall, all at 1 under par. Then followed by the rest of the group at par, and one name at 1 over, Drew Moughboy. I looked at his face. The look of desperation filled his eyes for one last time. His death was quick, a simple bullet went straight through his skull. He fell to the floor in a thud. Once again light faded from Hell and we were dragged into the void. The next hole was a longer, 350 foot hole. It seemed to be very open up a slight hill. I decided to play this hole safe and use a P-1 putter to get at 200 foot drive. Others went with a longer hyzer bomb route. Andy and Erick went for a skip shot but Andy’s had a funky skip and rolled down the hill. The bottom of the hill was very dark, but Andy knew he had to retrieve his disc to keep playing so he went down. The rest of us finished up the hole and waited for Andy to come back up. The scoreboard soon came back, Andrew now leading with 2 under along with Marshall. Mitchell Erick and I were all 1 under, with Will, Ben, and Isaac following with par. Andy’s name just had a simple DNF next to it. We all heard slight screams and a crunch noise from the bottom of the hill. 2 down 7 to go till I get out. The void almost felt welcoming the second time, a good change to the other option of a cold frigid void. This hole seemed very interesting. There were 3 floating islands, with bridges connecting them, between us and the hole and a long outside path that was completely solid but would take at least 1 more stroke to get around on the right. My throw was with my understable Leopard. It faded perfectly to the right and landed in the middle of the path. The only 2 people who decided to take a different path was Isaac and William. After they landed on the 2nd island, it was standard hole. Everyone finished up for the par of 4 except the 2 who took the other path, finishing with a birdie. The familiar face of the scoreboard returned with the updated scores. The change was Isaac and Will joining the 1 under club. Sadly for Ben they left him behind in the par group. Fire burst from the ground, engulfing his body. It was mere seconds before he was a pile of ashes. This time in the void I felt a sense of accomplishment. I felt like the deaths were because I was so good. As each hole passed, I felt the win getting closer. Erick lost with a missed putt, same with Will 2 holes later. The death between them was Isaac going out of bounds. Each time I witnessed a death the void between holes felt more like I belonged there. With only 4 contenders left I knew I had to win. When looking for my disc in a bush I noticed Mitchell, who was also looking for his disc, was facing the other way. His disc was right on top of mine. I made sure the coast was clear and kicked his disc down into the hellfire creek.
“Hey Mitchell, I think your disc rolled down over there,” I made sure to be extremely sincere when saying that so no one knew what I did.
“Thanks man!” Mitchell responded with a joyful tone.
As he walked to the fire he saw his disc. Like a bug drawn to light he walked in. He, like Ben, instantly burned to death. It was now Andrew, 3 under, Me, 2 under, and Marshall, also 2 under. The accomplishment I felt this time was not because of how well I did at disc golf, but instead of how well I did at getting Mitchell killed. I didn’t even think about the next hole until we got to putting in. Marshall and I were tied up all the way through the hole. Almost by instinct, as soon as he threw, I also threw my putt. My target wasn’t the hole though, it was Marshall’s disc’s path to the hole. They collided less than a foot from the hole. His went back towards him, mine went into the hole. The ground beneath him opened. He was swallowed into the pits of hell. Down to just Andrew and me. He was still beating me by 1 stroke. We arrived at the next hole, an exact replica of the last hole of worlds. The open hole with just 1, lone tree right in the middle of the hole. The exact same tree I hit on my first throw in worlds. Andrew took the exact same path he took at worlds to give him an easy par. I stepped up to the concrete tee pad. The hellish landscape seemed to turn into a more earthy look in my mind. The sulphur that once dominated the air turned to a fresh, outdoors smell. For a moment, I was no longer in hell, but back on earth. I felt the air brush against my skin. The sunlight hit my face giving me a warm pleasant feeling. As I released my disc, I could tell it was an amazing throw. The disc flew in a perfect line straight past the tree. The sound of the disc slamming into the chains was music to my ears. I got the hole in one. Andrew looked at me, dumbfounded.
“Nice shot man,” Andrew said with the sound of defeat.
“Don’t get too down, you still have the chance for the birdie to tie,” I responded.
Andrew set up in a putting stance. The look of determination filled his eyes. He needed the birdie to keep playing. The putt left his hand just how he wanted it to. It’s path was directly into the hole. The disc didn’t hit any chains, but instead it went straight into the basket perpendicular to it. The disc bounced straight up and out of the hole. Before Andrew even got to his disc to finish the hole with a par, Lucifer re-appeared. He swept Andrew’s legs. I walked over to help Andrew up, but instead Lucifer handed me a sword. I looked at it. It had been forged in the purest of fire with the purest of metal. I knew what I had to do. I was unable to look into Andrew’s eyes as the blade pierced his chest. A bright light sputtered out of the hole the sword left behind.
“Congratulations, you are the winner,” Lucifer said with an evil grin. “You got what you wanted after all, right? No more competition, you are the best.”
A deep rage for what I had done built rapidly in my chest. I looked at Lucifer and swung the sword. It bounced off the light glowing around him. The world faded to black. When I was able to see again, I was back at the world competition. No one else was around. At my feet was a bag full of 9 discs. Each disc had the name of one of my competitors. I continued doing competitions, winning them all. Each win reminded me more, and more, of how I killed people to get where I am. The depression kept piling on my chest until I had to quit. I quit disc golf on the 2nd year anniversary of my visit to hell. I felt the only way to distance myself from that day was to destroy all my discs. Light, much like the light that left Andrew’s chest, flew out of each of the 9 discs I got from hell as I broke them. After months of not playing, the itch to disc golf returned. I didn’t actually play, just watched tournaments. Everything was normal till I looked at the scorecard. 9 of the top names were of those died in hell.
“Quite sad isn’t it?” A voice from behind me announced.
I turned around to see Lucifer standing there without the glow. “Hey bud, it’s been awhile since I’ve see you. Looks like you gained some weight,” I shot back. This man ruined my disc golf career, I was pissed.
“Wow, aggressive. Well congrats on ruining the life I set up for you. I gave you those discs to make you a champion. Why would you destroy the wish I granted for you?” Lucifer seemed almost angry with me.
“How could I live knowing I killed to become good?”
“You wanted this remember? You wished for all your competition to be gone, right?”
I swung a fist at his face, but he vanished before it connected.
Everyone was back to normal except for me. I watched silently from the background as all 9 of them seemed to have an amazing time playing disc golf. None of them seemed to remember that horrible day in Hell. It’s good to see that they recovered, that’s a 90% success rate.