Dani grips the leathery pamphlet with more enthusiasm than she wanted to show. Each horrific page unlocks a more disturbing chamber of her mind. A fan spins overhead, spreading a smoke trail drifting up from a large sandalwood incense cone atop her hostess’s metal cabinet. Nighttime’s darkness wraps its cloak beyond two massive office windows. Ten candelabras glow around the room, casting deep shadows across the walls.
“Ah, you’ve a real fancy for this kind of adventure, don’t you? Maybe some dark desires you’ve hidden from family, friends”—the older woman smiles—“even your husband.”
Dani’s skin crawls. Whimsical captions attached to each graphic death picture encourage a need to immerse herself in the next photo. An addictive curiosity coils around the neck of her empathetic urge to pass back the brochure.
“They’d never forgive me for indulging in this, though I don’t fully understand what I’m looking at.” Dani subdues her grin at the presentation of exposed organs spilling from a young man’s open stomach, lying face up across a latex-covered mattress. His eyes stare off into the distance. An elderly woman wearing a nightgown and Birthday Girl crown laps at the wound. The words written above: ‘Sometimes, there’s nothing like a birthday breakfast in bed.’
“I think you know exactly what you’re looking at,” the travel agent comments. “You’re looking at a vacation of freedom to explore that which you’ve subdued since you left home. That urge you’ve shoved down at every hitchhiker you’ve passed. Every homeless person you’ve handed money to. Every drunk co-ed you’ve helped back to her college dorm.
“This is a chance for the true Dani to live for once. No getting caught. No consequences. Most importantly, no shame. A long weekend of exploring the darker aspects of who you really are. And you’ve the opportunity to do this alone, like in the pictures, or with those of like-minded, shall we say, tastes of life.”
“The brochure says this is in Helvetti?” She peeks over the brochure’s top. “Where is that?”
The woman meets her gaze. Her hollow-blue eyes radiate with confidence. “Some of the best places are beyond published borders, if you dare.”
Dani returns her attention to a rosy picture of a smiling wife wearing a bib over her dress. She gazes at a decapitated man’s head centered on a plate before her. The caption reads, ‘When your marriage is in a slump, make sure to get ahead of your own happiness.’
“Where did such a vacation of evil come from?”
“It came from those who were honest with themselves about what made them happy,” the old woman says, leaning back into her chair. She sips from a cup of boiling tea. “Maybe this is your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be honest with yourself, too.”
Dani turns the page. Her eyes widen at a gleeful bald man lounging in a bathtub of moist organs and guts. A gold pendant rests against a sprawling thicket of chest hair. He holds a thick cigar. Its smoke trail wisps upward. ‘I’d rather be sitting here than in traffic any Monday.’
The crone smiles. “When you’ve come to the last page, I’ll explain the cost. Then we can plan your adventure into indulging in such beautiful depravity.”
“Let me guess, you’ll be asking for my soul,” Dani says with a chuckle. She flips to the next page with increasing enthusiasm.
The old woman leans forward. She places her tea down on a table between them. She grabs a prepared contract and pen. “That’ll cover the down payment just fine.”
