On the joyless river, misty souls wander still. I hear them whispering to Charo, begging for a transfer without success because someone failed to place the orb in their mouth. I didn’t make a mistake. I placed it.
The same souls in these dead waters silently echoed their name in the mist with a rustle of dried leaves. They seek the gates of the Underworld, as I seek them, but I am not dead yet.
I cross the Acheron River on a wooden boat, on the same course as the dead, imitating the movements of the Boatman who has just received them from Hermes. The night has become the firmament of the day, the stillness is dead around me, and the trials are approaching. Finally, I reach the cave on the hill. I go through the gates. I am met by the priest, hidden under a black hood, the flame revealing the strange white cloudy eyes that do not face the living world.
Silence. Pilgrims arrive at this point for a last meeting, a last answer, from a man they refused to let go. I agreed to let her go. I didn’t have time to say a last goodbye the day I discovered her dead. I never dared a meeting until I needed an answer.
Shells, beans, milk, honey. The only food of past days, locked in semi-darkness, reality escapes my consciousness. I’m alone. I hear voices from the walls, prayers, and invocations to gods who don’t want me here. I must see her. I must know.
Bath, thrown stones, purification, and holiness. I left behind the essence of the real world, the evil that exists outside these sacred walls in the house of Hades. I am looking for the moment of meeting. I am waiting.
Stunned, I don’t understand anymore. Life with her was lies or truth. The gods made fun of me. They took her away. The priests bewitched me, all an illusion. In a life without purpose, with punishing ones, merciless gods, angry gods. What did I do to deserve this? Why did they kill her? Because now he is gone.
I’m looking for their form. Maybe I’ll see them and ask them. Memories unfold in the maze as I descend deeper into the Underworld. Who is next to me, the priest or Hades? Yes, she lives here. The memory of her is strong. The scream comes back from the day I found her. Persephone now hangs out with the woman who gave him to me.
Cries, whispers, where is Cerberus? Where are the dead? I throw sacrifices on the dry, barren soil in their honor, hoping not to stay here. They know I’m angry that she was taken from me. I can’t hide from the gods. But I know that at some point, I will come back here. I will not be alive anymore. I will meet them.
I hold my breath. I wait for her. I hear her, see her yard shadow, and pour blood on the ground. She recognizes me.
<<Where is our son?>> I ask her. <<Is he with you or still alive.>>
Created by Diana Chemeris
Story in Greek:
https://fairytalesmaybereal.blogspot.com/2016/06/blog-post.html
Diana Chem 