In 2022, I discovered my Aunt Lesa (I called her Aunt LeLe) had Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). And on March 7, 2023, she passed away.

My aunt was an avid horror fan and had an obsession with vampires. When I discovered her diagnosis, I got to work on a vampire short story dedicated to my aunt. I was going to wait and publish it in my short story collection, but since her death, I felt I should publish it on my blog to commemorate her death.

Synopsis: It’s said the Gates to Hell are in York, Pennsylvania. Roland and Clay want to be the first to make it through all gates and gain internet stardom. After meeting a mysterious woman named LeLe, Roland and Clay get more than they bargained for when they pass through the Gates to Hell.

The characters and the actions in this story are completely fictional. Names, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead or resemblance to any previous event is entirely coincidental. This story does not reflect on the actions of the author. 18+ readers only.

The Gates to Hell by Stephanie E. Jensen’

“What’s up, everyone! This is Roland of Spooky Pennsylvania, and I’m here uncovering one of PA’s most notorious legends, The Gates to Hell! You may not know this, but the Gates to Hell are in York, Pennsylvania. The legend says you can only see the gates at night, which is why no one has seen them before. We will be the first to catch our experience on film.” Roland pauses, his lips turning down from a smile to a straight line. “How was that?”

“Looked fine to me,” Clay responds.

Deep down, Clay wanted to tell Roland that he looked like some divine angel, not a menacing figure for a horror YouTube channel. Roland thought it was a good idea to stand under a streetlight so viewers could see him. The light only caught his blonde hair and white jacket, casting a halo around him.

Roland wants to use his obsession with the macabre to achieve fame. Clay doesn’t care about fame, but he likes the dark and scary stuff as much as Roland. Clay tags along with Roland on his urban exploration outings, breaking into abandoned doctor’s offices and old homes to find ghosts and other spooky stuff. Clay never held a camera before, but someone has to film Roland’s terrifying excursions.

“Okay, cool. Let’s get moving.” Roland turns around and walks toward the line of trees.

“Should I keep the camera on?” Clay asks as he follows him into the trees.

“Yeah, we can’t miss any details,” Roland says, his voice cutting into the sound of crunching leaves and snapping branches.

#

“How many gates have we passed so far?” Clay asks. He moves his flashlight and camera in every direction. He catches countless trees, bushes, and the occasional forest animal, but never finds a gate.

“Only the first one we passed when we got in.” Roland pauses. “But don’t worry, viewers! We will find the rest of the gates…We can cut this part out.”

“How many gates are we supposed to pass?”

“Seven.”

Clay groans.

Roland stops and takes out his phone. He tries to turn it on, but the screen remains as black as the night sky. “Gah! My phone died!”

All night, Roland tried to remain positive. Even though he broke into countless abandoned places and witnessed more creepy stuff than one person should encounter, he knew he was still close to civilization. But he and Clay have been alone in the woods for hours. Will they see the Gates to Hell? And how would they get back?

Clay sighs. “The camera says 9 PM.”

“What! Have we only been out here for an hour? Ugh! Turn the camera off, dude. Turn it back on if we see something cool.”

“Wait, we’re not stopping?”

“Nope! We said we would be the first to see the Gates to Hell.”

“Alright, man,” Clay says.

The pair keep trekking. The woods are pitch black except for the boys’ flashlights, illuminating the red and gold fall leaves. Some trees have already shed their leaves. They crunch under the boys’ feet.

Roland knows he has to do this, but he can understand why Clay is upset. It’s October in Pennsylvania, and the weather is already in the 50s. Roland zips up his jacket, wishing he had grabbed something warmer. His stomach starts to grumble. He brought granola bars with him, but he knows those would only last him so long before the emptiness in his stomach starts gnawing at him.

“Do you know where we are?” Clay asks.

“Nope. I thought the directions were simple. Keep walking in the woods until we pass the gates.”

“Dude! The woods are massive in this area. We could get lost. How the fuck will we find our way back?” Clay’s now raising his voice. It echoes in the woods and carries in the wind.

Roland stays silent. He knows he didn’t think of these details. But why? It sounds so obvious now. Roland wants to punch himself for being too preoccupied with YouTube fame.

“Hey, what’s that?” Clay’s voice rises, holding a more positive tone.

“What’s what?” Roland asks.

“Do you see that light? Over there.” Clay points to a beam to their right. “It’s…oh my God, it’s another flashlight!”

“Dude, let’s be hesitant. Do you remember that video I filmed last month? About that guy who murdered those campers at Clarke Lake?”

“Okay, Roland. We either stay paranoid about a serial killer—like there is another one in York. Or, we ask this person for help and get the fuck out of here.”

In the dark, Clay couldn’t see Roland rolling his eyes.

“Fine. I guess I gotta suck this up, knowing this was a failed video.”

“C’mon, dude. There will be others.” Clay raises his flashlight, shaking it around. “Hey! Over here! We need help!” Clay’s voice is louder as he calls the other person.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice calls.

“Dude! She sounds like my mom. We’ll be fine.” Clay whispers.

Roland shakes his head. “Fine, dude. Let’s go and ask her for help.”

The boys walk toward the woman with the flashlight. “Hi, ma’am. Can you help us? We’re lost!” Clay calls out.

Roland jumps as his light catches something. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees a woman. She does remind him of a darker-haired version of his mom. This woman has a diminutive stature and is wearing glasses.

“Oh, I see you!” She says as the boys see her bright flashlight beam at them. The woman gives the boys a warm smile. “I thought I heard someone yelling. What are you two doing out here so late?”

“Um. To tell you the truth, ma’am, we’re trying to find the Gates to Hell.” Roland feels the sting of embarrassment. He knows how silly his spooky videos are to the older generation.

The woman laughs, her giggle as warm as her smile. “Oh, you boys aren’t the only ones who come out here looking for those things. Spoiler alert—they’re not here in these woods. It’s chilly. I don’t want you boys getting pneumonia. I live right up there—” she points in the opposite direction. “I can make you boys some tea and drive you home. I’m LeLe, by the way.”

“Oh, would you do that, LeLe? Thank you so much!” Clay exclaims. “I’m Clay, and this is my friend, Roland.”

“Nice to meet you, boys!” LeLe laughs again. “As I said, you two boys aren’t the only ones who want to find those gates. And I have to be the one to save you all.” She giggles. “But I don’t mind. It’s nice to have the company. But let’s get moving. It’s getting down in the 40s tonight.”

#

LeLe unlocks and opens the door to her home. She walks in, and the boys follow. The house is ornate but simple, with department store artwork and signs with “Live, Laugh, Love”-Esque sayings framed on the wall. All the artwork is in various shades of purple, giving the bland room a small dose of color. Roland makes a face as the strong scent of lavender enters his nose.

“The kitchen is this way. I’ll make you some tea.” LeLe steps through the doorway to the kitchen. The boys follow her, sitting down at the small dining table in the corner.

“You boys sit right there. Relax and have some tea. Is green tea okay? That’s all I have. It was my mom’s favorite.” LeLe is at the counter, tampering with tea bags and coffee mugs. She puts water and a couple of tea bags in the kettle.

Roland looks around the kitchen. Like the entryway, the kitchen is very plain. Some ornate purple kitchen décor lines the counter, and there’s a frilly purple tablecloth, but that’s the only color in the otherwise tan and white kitchen.

Roland feels something shift in his gut, knowing something isn’t right here. The house is lovely, but it doesn’t feel like home. Everything is too clean, and the decor looks like an ad in one of his mom’s interior design magazines.

LeLe puts the kettle on the stove and turns it on, giving the boys her warm giggle. “Ha! The ‘Gates to Hell’ thing. Trust me. You boys aren’t the only ones fooled by that legend. I’ve lived on this land my whole life, and I can tell you there are no gates in those woods that lead you to Hell, Heaven, or anywhere else. There is only one gate I know of, and that’s the one you pass when you enter the woods. This little old house is the only thing in these woods. This house was passed down from generation to generation to generation to—”

The kettle whistles, and the screech cuts into LeLe’s speech. She pauses to turn off the kettle and pours the tea into three mugs.

“I hope you boys don’t mind sweet tea. I make my mom’s favorite recipe for guests. I can’t have sugar anymore, so I’m giving you boys extra.”

LeLe takes the sugar jar out of the cupboard. She mixes a couple of heaping spoonfuls of the white powder in the two mugs for the boys, and LeLe delivers the tea to them. Roland looks down at his cup, which is purple with white stripes. Clay’s cup is lavender with a drawing of a cartoon puppy.

“I’m sure you noticed all of the purple stuff. That was my mom’s favorite color.” LeLe says as she carries her tea toward the table. She sets her mug down, which is a muted shade of periwinkle.

Clay picks up his mug. Roland watches him as he takes a sip and makes a face. Roland looks down at his tea. The sugar makes the liquid look more like a muted green color and smells sweeter than the tea he usually drinks.

Roland sees the weird expression leaving Clay’s face as he smiles at LeLe.

“It’s hot but delicious. I can see why your mom put sugar in her green tea.” Clay turns to Roland. “Try some! It’s good!”

Roland takes a deep breath, unsure why he feels weird about drinking a glass of tea. He takes a small sip. Like Clay said, it is hot but delicious.

“I’m glad you boys like it. So, tell me about yourselves. Do you live here in York? Or are you from out of town?”

“Yeah, we’re both from here. We’ve known each other our whole lives…”

LeLe and Clay share small talk over tea. Roland stays silent, taking small sips of his tea. He looks at the purple clock on the wall, realizing he and Clay have been there for at least a half hour.

“Hey, when are you taking us home? I ask because our phones are dead, and I’m sure our parents are worried.”

“I’m still drinking my tea!” Clay cuts in.

“No, no, Roland has a point. Is your tea cooled off, boys? I can finish my cup in the next ten or fifteen minutes, and I’ll take you home after. Is that okay?”

Roland nods. He feels a little better knowing that LeLe will take him home soon. But he can’t help but feel tired, as if he could take a nap right there on the table.

LeLe sips her tea, staring at the boys. She already sees Roland slumping over the table.

“Hey man, you okay?” Clay asks Roland.

LeLe opens her mouth to cut in, but she also sees Clay’s eyelids getting heavy. Both men lay their heads on the table, their eyes closing shut. LeLe smiles as she puts down her tea.

#

Roland opens his eyes. At first, he sees nothing but a red blur. Roland blinks, and the world comes into focus. He realizes the ceilings and surrounding walls are all a distinct shade of blood red.

Where am I?

His arms ache. He tries to lift them, but his wrists hit cold metal. Roland gasps as he looks up and down his body, seeing thick chains binding his wrists and ankles. He shoots his head over. Clay is next to him. He’s lying on a platform, wrists and ankles are also secured by chains. Clay’s eyes are still closed, his head resting against his shoulder.

“Oh shit, oh shit.” Roland keeps saying. He looks past Clay and around the room. Various weird symbols and shapes are drawn on the walls in the blackest ink that Clay has ever seen. He looks down at the floor and sees a pentagram surrounding a goat head. A loud sob escapes his mouth as his body shakes all over.

He turns his attention to Clay. “CLAY! WAKE UP!”

Clay’s eyes open wide, and he shoots up. The chains force him back down, his back making a BOOM sound as it slams against the platform.

“Owwwww!” Clay exclaims. He looks at his chains and then around the room. “What the fuck?”

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!” Roland screams at the top of his lungs while shaking his chains.

The boys hear familiar giggling in the shadows. But that giggling isn’t so warm anymore. Instead, it sounds menacing, like a witch’s cackle.

LeLe emerges from the other side of the room. She’s wearing a black cloak that drags on the floor behind her. She’s also no longer wearing her glasses, and her brown eyes are now entirely black.

Her mouth is still open in a smile, but her teeth all have fine points. Two large fangs replace her canines, hanging down to her bottom lip.

“You boys are about to get your wish—to visit Hell. Unfortunately, you won’t be filming your experience.” LeLe’s smile gets wider; her cheeks stretch out, tiny cuts forming at the corners of her mouth.

“But-but-but I thought you said the Gates to Hell didn’t exist?” Clay asks in between deep breaths. Roland looks over at him. His body is shaking, causing a pitter-patter sound from the chains.

LeLe laughs again. “I said they’re not in the woods, which is true. There is one Gate to Hell, and it’s right here in this basement.” LeLe points to the pentagram.

“Wait. Who are you?” Clay asks.

LeLe lifts the sides of her cloak as if she were a human bat. “I was sent by Lucifer himself to watch over the Gate to Hell. Admit entrance to those who desire to see the fiery depths for themselves.”

“Wh-what are you going to do to us?” Roland croaks as he tugs at the chains.

LeLe shakes her head. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere. Men bigger and stronger than you fell into my trap, and they never escaped. Remember I said you boys weren’t the only ones looking for the Gates to Hell?”

LeLe walks over to Clay, tracing a finger along his throat. Roland looks at her hands, focusing on her purple-red tinted nails.

“Mmm…” She dips her face into the crane of her neck. Roland can hear her sniffing his flesh. “I smell the blood rushing through your body.” LeLe glides the tip of her tongue along the top row of her teeth. The teeth cut her tongue, staining every tooth sanguine.

Clay doesn’t move his head or neck as LeLe’s mouth gapes open. Roland has never seen a living creature open its mouth that wide; LeLe’s skin pulls back, her teeth and gums jutting out of her mouth.

“No! No!” Roland cries as LeLe bites down on Clay’s neck. “Claaaaaaay!”

LeLe lifts her head, and a large piece of Clay’s neck hangs out of her fangs. She opens her jaws, and the meat slides down her throat like water. Blood and pieces of skin cover her face and teeth.

Roland looks down at his friend. Clay’s body is convulsing, and his eyes roll back in his head. Blood bubbles in his open wound, dripping down his body onto the platform.

LeLe dips her head back into Clay’s neck. Roland can’t help but look as the carnage unfolds. She devours his muscles and drinks his blood. Clay’s windpipe sticks out, looking like a gory flute. She bites the tissues surrounding the windpipe, exposing more cartilage. She continues slurping his blood as he bleeds out. The blood stains her pale skin, some of it dripping down her chin and onto the floor. Some blood drips down to the pentagram, and the black ink develops a red glow.

LeLe pulls her head up and turns to look at Roland. “The Gate to Hell is open,” she says as more blood drips down her fangs.

LeLe walks over to Roland as he starts screaming. He shakes his chains, hoping someone will hear him. LeLe no longer laughs. Her hungry blacked-out eyes stare down at him. Her mouth hangs open, and Roland can see her bloodied fangs.

When LeLe approaches Roland, she puts her hand on his throat as she did for Clay. Roland cries and tries to squirm his head away, but he feels intense pressure. The pressure holds his head still as if a pillow was placed over his body. Only her fingertips are pressing into his jugular veins, her fingers are ice cold yet soft, like the caress of a snowflake.

“Mmmm.” LeLe salivates as her mouth gapes open.

The invisible pressure is still holding Roland’s head down. Only this time, he can’t speak or cry out. He can only appreciate his last few breaths as LeLe’s bloodied fangs hover over his throat.

Roland doesn’t feel LeLe bite down. He sees the back of her black hair on his neck and blood leaking off the table. From the side of the platform, he sees his blood drip down to the still-glowing pentagram.

Roland feels a jerk. He can now move his arms and legs, but also feels the most intense heat of his life. He realizes his feet aren’t touching anything. He looks down, and the loudest scream emerges from his lips. Roland is falling. He tries to grab onto something, but only flames surround him.