Fruits of Insanity

Lethe

You ask me what lies at the edge of Death? Look around you.

Ah, I see. You want explanations. I have time enough for that before we cast off, although I don’t guarantee it will help you. Each soul finds her own path, her own explanations, and what I say may not be everything you need.

Pray excuse my distraction—I’ve sailed these waters forever. I know better than to begin without checking each sheet and line, each inch of timber (they’re what you’ve brought me, you know, dreams and hopes and wishes and deeds that will shape where we will go). I will not sail until I know for myself each inch of your ship. Keep up—or don’t. My job is your guidance, not your pleasure.

There are five rivers that edge the underworld. Each soul must find them, and cross them, and that is my work. You will direct me—I will guide you. But first, I must mend this line. See? It is fraying against the rail, a slightest roughness against my fingertips. Can’t you feel it through the calluses? You must have lingered hard on this dream—that may be an issue later.

The rivers, yes. Thank you for the reminder. Styx, which is also called hate, is the one most know when they think of Hades. She binds the gods, as well as those whose souls lie here. When you sail her, you will discover where you are bound, and perhaps, how you can be freed. Phlegethon burns with an eternal fire—take care not to stray too close to the side as we pass, for it burns the soul.

Sorrow, Acheron is where you must pay the ferryman or linger for a hundred years, remembering what you did and didn’t do. He and often flows close at hand to Cocytus, who is lamentation, where the tears you have shed are weighed against the tears you have caused.

You must find them. I am taking a million such journeys now, as we speak, but each journey is separate and alone. Only you will know which to seek first, and only you will find the price within yourself to pay for passage.

Yes, I did mention five. The last is Lethe—forgetting. It twists and twines its way high above the sulfur fumes where the dead pay out their debts and waters Elysium, where the just dwell. When you find your way there, you may forget, but don’t seek it so soon that you become trapped, not knowing how to pass the other boundaries.

You are impatient with me—but calm your heated words. I never told you that the borders of the underworld were as simple as a physical location. Each river circles us on all sides—left, right, front, back, above, beneath. What you see is only the smallest part of what is.

Your craft is sound. It is time to weigh anchor.

Take my hand—don’t worry at its chill. You will soon be as cold and skeletal as ever I was. I will cast off, and while I do, close your eyes and search your soul, because you need to answer one simple question, now.

Which way will we go?

Prompt 11
the week of October 11


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