A Night on the River of Styx

I am the oarsman on the River of Styx, it has been my burden since the dawn of man. For a toll of two coins I take those souls, who have passed, to their final destinations. I have seen all types, I have smelled the swine, and touched the roughest of them, any yet, my work here is not done until the last man pays his toll and takes his ride to the very end.

As the mortal's clocks strike nine, the first of this evening hath arrived. A soul of pure evil is at my gate, to take him now or make him wait? As this soul staggers my way, the darkness of where he's been stays. Its anger lingers upon the walls. His eyes are dark and unbreakable, his soul gives off the stench of fear. When I listen to this souls' past I hear women and children screaming with pleas. I hold out my hand to receive my toll, this man's soul is almost too cold. One the man steps on board, my vessel settles almost to the floor. A heavy heart, a heavy mind, so much to carry for such a long length of time. A fog settles above the water, a fog due to his coldhearted cruelness to others.

A mortals' clock once again chimes, the clock says ten. The soul of indifference comes through, not quite sure of what to do. This was a man who didn't have to do evil, but he wasn't against it being done. Just like the soul of pure evil , I hold out my hand to this man to take the toll that is rightfully mine. That is if this soul wants the ride. A hand that is neither cold nor hot is one I dare not touch. I see a small burning flame in this man's eyes, but his precious money and pride are too much to keep this flame alive. His body settles aboard my vessel , the stench now double fold, a stench I've endured many a time, a stench that is growing old. I taste the anger and disappointment, it's a taste of utter disgust, a taste of one who just gave up.

The eleventh hour has just rung, another man comes through my gate. It is the soul of struggle amongst the world of man, doing not what he likes, but doing what he can. Through the way this soul walks, I see his life was not easy. He worked day and night to make things for his family at least pleasing. Every now and again as he nears my vessel at the shore, I hear him sigh with a heavy mind of what now lies before. I taste his wife's bitter tears as she finds him lying on the floor. a knife in his back, a letter attached telling of his life's horrors. A daughter too young to understand, I could smell the yellow rose, the one she laid on his tomb accompanied by a written note telling him to come home soon. I take his toll of two coins, he climbs in and finds his chair and as he sits I feel my boat descend.

There is no more room in this vessel for another soul, however as the clocks strike twelve another soul shows. Because of all the darkness that hath arrived this night, I couldn't see the weight of this souls sins. As it neared I drew my breath. It was the soul of innocence, a child of two or three, too young to hate or know its' fate, just old enough to make believe. His eyes were burning as brightly as a summer sunny day. His skin was warm like fresh cows milk or like the bright suns rays. Not a tear was shed for this soul, for the mortals surely knew, that there would be no torture, his soul was too pure and true. As I stared into this young one's eyes I could hear his laughter ring out. I could taste the love this child received and charged no toll when he held his fingers stretched out.

"Because you are the soul of innocence, your heart is pure and true, take a seat upon the bow and let your light shine through. Light the way for these other three, who once were just like you, guide them to their rightful place, to the light of Truth."