• Some month, some day, some year


    I don’t know my name. I only know my short, dismal life story. I sit in eternal boredom, here on the River Styx. I have no earthly possessions besides this notebook given to me by a passerby soul.

    You see, I am a child of the dead. And yes, literally. My father was one of the souls in this river. And he did something that very rarely happens; he escaped. To this day I do not know how he did it. Got out of the river, I mean. After that, it would be easy. Just walk on out, like I could.

    In any case, my father found the body of a man that had died in his sleep. His wife had yet to notice, so he just slipped in in his place. Bound by his mortal desires, he woke her. No need to tell all the details, but that is how I came to be. Born already half-dead.

    But Master Hades took pity on me. He didn’t send me to the deepest depths of the Underworld for my father’s crimes. Instead, he left me among the living, sitting here and being contemplative for eternity with only the dead for company. Sometimes I wonder if I would have preferred crossing the river.

    Occasionally I see Chiron paddling the special cases down Styx in his little dinghy for them to have a little powwow with Hades, usually about their inhumanly courageous or corrupt deeds. A few times he has even stopped to say hi, making his passenger wait while we talked. Most of them were happy to wait, though.

    I know, I could escape from my prison. I can see the source of the river, the connection to Above, from where I sit. But I would rather not face the punishment that my father is not having to endure; stirring the giant fondue pot that is the lake that souls went to while waiting to be sorted into one of the many hells. He was more of a security guard, making sure they behaved, but I like using metaphors. It makes it seem like I was born with a slight sense of humor.

    The thing that I want more than anything down here is to be able to tell time. I have no idea how long I’ve been in this morbid place. All I know is that time isn’t as it seems. At one time, for example, I saw a Greek soldier pass me by in the river. In (what seemed like) a few weeks later, I saw a man in a suit of blue and gold, and a long black tube that was a “gun,” as Chiron later told me. So consequently I do not know my age. I think I am beginning to get tired of the constant mystery.

    So here I sit, studying the black rock pillars and trying to see the faces of the souls in the violet-colored river. My hand is starting to ache, so I will end this here for now.

    And that is my dark life story.

    So far, at least.