I was doomed from the start, a cruel man born into a cruel world. My conflict was that I was a cheat. It was because of this conflict, that I came to be in my current predicament; a doomed man with his head on the block awaiting fate. My accuser was unknown, but for all that it is worth, I am not angry. Only sad I didn’t get to have more fun. Fun seemed to be my fate’s weapon of choice, as I should probably have lived a more boring life. But, if this is it, then this is it…
And then, suddenly, absence. And a silent haze that seems to go on for an eternity. So thick you could only see a few feet ahead of you. I was honestly afraid to move forward, as I didn’t know what was ahead of me. I called out; there were no answers only an echo that bounced all around me. This place…where was I?
It was all I could do to make sense of where I was or what had happened. There was a vagueness to my thoughts, it seemed, something I couldn’t place my finger on. As I walked forward it was the same nothingness. Just this dense haze that never ended. It was like I could walk for an eternity and there would be nothing.
I suddenly heard another voice echo, and it was a painful moan. I began to walk toward the sound as it grew louder. This white haze was all around me. I couldn’t see anything only hear a voice. I walked for what seemed like hours, but nothing, only a moan. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand what was happening.
Suddenly, after I had just about given up hope, I walked upon a dank and creepy river deep in the haze.
An old man was standing there waiting inside a boat with an oar. “I am the ferryman, of the river Styx,” the voice replied. “I am here to carry your soul to the afterlife,” said the ferryman. “For a price.” Suddenly I knew where I was, and an immense panic came over me.
What had I done, and what was I to do? I had heard the legend of the ferryman before, but I had never put any stock into it. “This couldn’t be real,” I thought to myself. I had fooled a few men of grandeur and conned a couple of men of wealth, but not anything like this.
“Kind Sir, I have found myself in this abstract place, and am honestly afraid. Might I do to gain passage?” I asked. A decrepit bird perched on his shoulder replied, “ Dead man’s coins!” The old man, looking off into the haze behind me said, in a raspy voice, “Yes two dead man’s coins. No more no less.”
I replied, with a pitiful tone, “Kind Sir, I was a cheat in my past life, and had great things. I was wealthy and Merry and had all the women I wanted. I have ultimately found myself here, without any coins. What might we do to compromise?”
An interested look came over the old man’s eyes, as he looked at his bird. “I tell you what, I’ll ask you three questions. If you answer them to my satisfaction you may cross.” A sense of relief came over me, as I thought “How hard can three questions be?”
“Question 1: What is the value of true friendship?” I thought about the question for a second before I answered, and then said, “The true value of friendship comes from a true friend, and a true friend is hard to find. So, the value of true friendship is priceless.” The ferryman looked at me in agreeance.
“Question 2: What is the mark of true friendship?” Again, I thought about the question before I answered. And then said, “The mark of true friendship is love and compassion for one another. To be kind and understanding to one another.” The ferryman looked up in agreeance once more.
“Question 3: What is the true purpose of money?” I thought again for a time. And then answered, “The true purpose of money is to share your wealth when others need it. To love and help one another when in need. That is the true purpose of having money” The ferryman smiled and told me to board.
I looked across the river as I saw the other side, and hope approach. As we got closer, my eyes widened, I was going on to the other side. “How stupid this ferry-man must be,” I thought laughing. Suddenly a cold tight grip on my throat slings me into the river Styx.
I look up to see this kindly old man now filled with the fury of a thousand demons. He says in a thunderous tone “You can cheat life, but you can’t cheat death, and you can’t cheat me!” his grip grew tighter as he plunged me deeper.
The cold grime, of the river Styx slowly filled my lungs, as my soul yearned for the afterlife it could no longer have.
Schizophrenic Poems, Short Stories, and Thoughts 