Helluva Time By: David K. Montoya


Helluva Time
By: David K. Montoya

Alfredo Vega was on his death bed in his home located in the rolling hills of Colombia. His family filled the ill manís room and watched in sorrow as he fought for his final few breaths. Vega was the head man of the Colombian Cartel that shipped the United States most of its cocaine.

He waved his priest over and had the holy man sit down beside him. Weakly Vega said, "Father, pleaseÖ I must have confession. I am responsible for many bad things and I must be forgiven before I die so I can make it to heaven."

"Go ahead my son, I am here for you," the priest said to Alfredo as he began the routine of confession.

"Forgive me father for I have sinned, it has been seven years since my last confession," Vega said. "I have personally taken the life of nine men and was responsible for hundreds, if not thousands more. I have taken the Lordís name in vain more times than I can remember. I have slept with every woman in this house out of wedlock, including Sister Roberta, boy she was a fine piece ofĖ"

"Go on my son, is there more?" the priest interrupted.

"I have stolen more than I can recall, and I have done more drugs than thought humanly possible. Iíve lied, at least twenty times a day and Öand I think thatís it, Father."

"All right, my son; five Hail Maryís andĖ crap."

Before the priest could finish, Alfredo Vega had taken his last breath, but when Vega opened his eyes he found himself in Las Vegas. The former Colombian Drug King was dressed in a white suit with a matching white hat.

"Iím in Las Vegas? How in the hell did I get here?" he said.

A stranger stopped in front of Vega. "Thatís it," he said, "you got the right idea." Then he walked away.

Alfredo was confused; how could he be in the United States and healthy? Only minutes ago was he knocking on deathís door back in his home in Colombia.

He grabbed the next passerby and asked, "Where in the Hell am I?"

The man grinned exposing small sharp teeth. "Yes, Hell."

"I donít understand, what do you mean?" Vega said as he jumped away from the man. The sharp-toothed manís grin transformed into an evil smile as he pointed to a sign which read:


The man patted Vega on the shoulder. "Welcome to your ever after," and then he walked away. Alfredo stood there on the busy street of Hell and realized that he died before the priest could finish his confession. "That stupid bastard let me die and go to Hell!"

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About the Author

David K. Montoya is a writer, director and business entrepreneur. He is best known for his comic writing and penned over 200 stories while working in that genre. After leaving comics behind in 2004 to work on other mediums of writing, Mr. Montoya has come to be most recognized for his ĎThe Endí series, a number of short horror stories that feature an apocalyptic age ruled by a great plague and zombie-like creatures.

He has also written stories outside the horror genre, including the upcoming novella, ĎInner Circle,í and a random number of fantasy and humorous short stories for "The World of Myth."

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