September 20, 2023
A violent shiver worked down Alex's spine as consciousness clawed its way back into his mind. Somehow, he convinced his muscles to rearrange his body into a sitting position. The world he saw was dark and cold as though it was buried deep. The sky was a void and the ground looked and smelled like ash. In front of him, a strange ethereal light glowed along the surface of a river which seemed to pulse with unnatural life. He felt the weight of his own existence settle heavily upon his chest. There was a pathway, lined by candles. A sense of anticipation hung in the air, as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to remember, to understand, and to decide.
Devoid of other choices, Alex followed the path down to the river's bank. Here, he found a dock, crudely constructed out of large black bricks. The boat, however, seemed almost an extension of the river itself. Its form was not fixed, but fluid, shifting and morphing with the river's currents, as if it were made of shadows and memories rather than wood and nails.
Before Alex was quite able to take in the strangest detail, something clicked in his mind. This cold world was more familiar than he had recognized, as he had read about this place. He was standing upon the banks of the river Styx, the final boundary between life and death.
Standing in the boat, as he has been for all eternity, was Charon, a sight that defied easy definition. His form was fluid, like the boat, constantly shifting and changing, a mirage of human and inhuman shapes. His eyes, however, remained constant - deep, fathomless pools of darkness that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand lifetimes. His gaze was neither kind nor cruel. He extended a hand towards Alex, an invitation and a challenge all in one.
He took Charon's hand and found himself hoisted into the boat. Alex sat, shivering, as he tried to look at anything but Charon, someone who his brain was not yet ready to comprehend. Until panic shot through him, as the indescribable ferryman was approaching, carrying a bundle of fabrics. He dropped it onto Alex's lap.
"Put these on or you'll catch your death," Charon said with a chuckle, blinking down at the human. Alex did as he was told, and soon wore a long grey cloak, a pair of gloves, and some leather earmuffs—all of which worked together to keep the chill at bay.
Charon sat facing him, grasping oars with slender hands, and began to row across the river. From then on, the pair travelled in silence, until Alex finally felt able to ask a question. "Why am I here?" His voice trembled slightly, the weight of the question bearing down on him. He had read about the river Styx and a fair bit of Greek Mythology, but that had been under the guise of fiction!
"Many ask that question," Charon replied, his voice as fluid and enigmatic as his appearance. "The answer is different for everyone. Some come seeking closure, while others are still running or chasing. And some are just simply lost."
Alex resonated strongly with that last word. Lost. That was exactly how he felt. Lost in this dark world, lost in a life that felt meaningless and empty. He had been feeling lost for much of his life. It seemed only natural that it would greet him in death, too.
He looked up at Charon, his eyes filled with a confusing mix of despair and hope. "Can you help me find my way?"
Charon's gaze was inscrutable as he regarded Alex for a moment. "I can guide you across the river," he said finally. "This journey that you must make is one that only you can navigate. Although I am happy to sit and chat."
Alex laughed. This was absurd. "Ok," he said. "So... what was the point of it all? Life— and such."
"That is not something I am yet able to understand myself. What do you think it was all for?" Charon replied.
"Well— maybe the meaning of life is in the journey— and not the destination? I know that's so cliche..."
Charon chuckled but not in an unkind way. "That seemed about right to me. Life is certainly not about the destination. The destination is Death."
Death. He was dead. He knew that— but—
Here he was.
His voice quivered. They were already approaching the other side of the river. This journey was short, huh?
"What is Death?" Alex asked.
"My perception of Death has drifted with the aeons. Did you know that I used to charge a penny in exchange for a ride across this river?" Charon asked. Something flashed across his face. Shame, perhaps. "Some would ask me why I required a bribe but I would never answer that question. The truth is plain to me now— I wanted this crossing to always be at the back of mortal minds. Memento mori. I liked the thought that, up there, there were people, dying, thinking 'I better not forget my penny'."
Charon was quiet for a moment. "It is now my understanding that there is nothing noble in death. Life is meaning and death is devoid of meaning. There is no getting around that truth. My purpose is a grim one and a task I should perform truthly and emphatically."
He bowed his head to Alex. "I am truly sorry for your loss. Although, perhaps, what is lost is not yet lost."
Alex nodded. He understood. He thanked Charon for his wisdom. They had almost arrived but he still had time. Alex placed Charon's clothes in a neat pile. He waved Charon goodbye, before leaping from the boat and into the river Styx. It felt cold and old and primordial upon his back and yet he swam his way back towards the light.
Back towards life. He'll uncover its meaning for himself.
A violent shiver worked down Alex's spine as consciousness clawed its way back into his mind. Somehow, he convinced his muscles to rearrange his body into a sitting position. The world he saw was dark and cold as though it was buried deep. The sky was a void and the ground looked and smelled like ash. In front of him, a strange ethereal light glowed along the surface of a river which seemed to pulse with unnatural life. He felt the weight of his own existence settle heavily upon his chest. There was a pathway, lined by candles. A sense of anticipation hung in the air, as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to remember, to understand, and to decide.
Devoid of other choices, Alex followed the path down to the river's bank. Here, he found a dock, crudely constructed out of large black bricks. The boat, however, seemed almost an extension of the river itself. Its form was not fixed, but fluid, shifting and morphing with the river's currents, as if it were made of shadows and memories rather than wood and nails.
Before Alex was quite able to take in the strangest detail, something clicked in his mind. This cold world was more familiar than he had recognized, as he had read about this place. He was standing upon the banks of the river Styx, the final boundary between life and death.
Standing in the boat, as he has been for all eternity, was Charon, a sight that defied easy definition. His form was fluid, like the boat, constantly shifting and changing, a mirage of human and inhuman shapes. His eyes, however, remained constant - deep, fathomless pools of darkness that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand lifetimes. His gaze was neither kind nor cruel. He extended a hand towards Alex, an invitation and a challenge all in one.
He took Charon's hand and found himself hoisted into the boat. Alex sat, shivering, as he tried to look at anything but Charon, someone who his brain was not yet ready to comprehend. Until panic shot through him, as the indescribable ferryman was approaching, carrying a bundle of fabrics. He dropped it onto Alex's lap.
"Put these on or you'll catch your death," Charon said with a chuckle, blinking down at the human. Alex did as he was told, and soon wore a long grey cloak, a pair of gloves, and some leather earmuffs—all of which worked together to keep the chill at bay.
Charon sat facing him, grasping oars with slender hands, and began to row across the river. From then on, the pair travelled in silence, until Alex finally felt able to ask a question. "Why am I here?" His voice trembled slightly, the weight of the question bearing down on him. He had read about the river Styx and a fair bit of Greek Mythology, but that had been under the guise of fiction!
"Many ask that question," Charon replied, his voice as fluid and enigmatic as his appearance. "The answer is different for everyone. Some come seeking closure, while others are still running or chasing. And some are just simply lost."
Alex resonated strongly with that last word. Lost. That was exactly how he felt. Lost in this dark world, lost in a life that felt meaningless and empty. He had been feeling lost for much of his life. It seemed only natural that it would greet him in death, too.
He looked up at Charon, his eyes filled with a confusing mix of despair and hope. "Can you help me find my way?"
Charon's gaze was inscrutable as he regarded Alex for a moment. "I can guide you across the river," he said finally. "This journey that you must make is one that only you can navigate. Although I am happy to sit and chat."
Alex laughed. This was absurd. "Ok," he said. "So... what was the point of it all? Life— and such."
"That is not something I am yet able to understand myself. What do you think it was all for?" Charon replied.
"Well— maybe the meaning of life is in the journey— and not the destination? I know that's so cliche..."
Charon chuckled but not in an unkind way. "That seemed about right to me. Life is certainly not about the destination. The destination is Death."
Death. He was dead. He knew that— but—
Here he was.
His voice quivered. They were already approaching the other side of the river. This journey was short, huh?
"What is Death?" Alex asked.
"My perception of Death has drifted with the aeons. Did you know that I used to charge a penny in exchange for a ride across this river?" Charon asked. Something flashed across his face. Shame, perhaps. "Some would ask me why I required a bribe but I would never answer that question. The truth is plain to me now— I wanted this crossing to always be at the back of mortal minds. Memento mori. I liked the thought that, up there, there were people, dying, thinking 'I better not forget my penny'."
Charon was quiet for a moment. "It is now my understanding that there is nothing noble in death. Life is meaning and death is devoid of meaning. There is no getting around that truth. My purpose is a grim one and a task I should perform truthly and emphatically."
He bowed his head to Alex. "I am truly sorry for your loss. Although, perhaps, what is lost is not yet lost."
Alex nodded. He understood. He thanked Charon for his wisdom. They had almost arrived but he still had time. Alex placed Charon's clothes in a neat pile. He waved Charon goodbye, before leaping from the boat and into the river Styx. It felt cold and old and primordial upon his back and yet he swam his way back towards the light.
Back towards life. He'll uncover its meaning for himself.
A violent shiver worked down Alex's spine as consciousness clawed its way back into his mind. Somehow, he convinced his muscles to rearrange his body into a sitting position. The world he saw was dark and cold as though it was buried deep. The sky was a void and the ground looked and smelled like ash. In front of him, a strange ethereal light glowed along the surface of a river which seemed to pulse with unnatural life. He felt the weight of his own existence settle heavily upon his chest. There was a pathway, lined by candles. A sense of anticipation hung in the air, as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to remember, to understand, and to decide.
Devoid of other choices, Alex followed the path down to the river's bank. Here, he found a dock, crudely constructed out of large black bricks. The boat, however, seemed almost an extension of the river itself. Its form was not fixed, but fluid, shifting and morphing with the river's currents, as if it were made of shadows and memories rather than wood and nails.
Before Alex was quite able to take in the strangest detail, something clicked in his mind. This cold world was more familiar than he had recognized, as he had read about this place. He was standing upon the banks of the river Styx, the final boundary between life and death.
Standing in the boat, as he has been for all eternity, was Charon, a sight that defied easy definition. His form was fluid, like the boat, constantly shifting and changing, a mirage of human and inhuman shapes. His eyes, however, remained constant - deep, fathomless pools of darkness that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand lifetimes. His gaze was neither kind nor cruel. He extended a hand towards Alex, an invitation and a challenge all in one.
He took Charon's hand and found himself hoisted into the boat. Alex sat, shivering, as he tried to look at anything but Charon, someone who his brain was not yet ready to comprehend. Until panic shot through him, as the indescribable ferryman was approaching, carrying a bundle of fabrics. He dropped it onto Alex's lap.
"Put these on or you'll catch your death," Charon said with a chuckle, blinking down at the human. Alex did as he was told, and soon wore a long grey cloak, a pair of gloves, and some leather earmuffs—all of which worked together to keep the chill at bay.
Charon sat facing him, grasping oars with slender hands, and began to row across the river. From then on, the pair travelled in silence, until Alex finally felt able to ask a question. "Why am I here?" His voice trembled slightly, the weight of the question bearing down on him. He had read about the river Styx and a fair bit of Greek Mythology, but that had been under the guise of fiction!
"Many ask that question," Charon replied, his voice as fluid and enigmatic as his appearance. "The answer is different for everyone. Some come seeking closure, while others are still running or chasing. And some are just simply lost."
Alex resonated strongly with that last word. Lost. That was exactly how he felt. Lost in this dark world, lost in a life that felt meaningless and empty. He had been feeling lost for much of his life. It seemed only natural that it would greet him in death, too.
He looked up at Charon, his eyes filled with a confusing mix of despair and hope. "Can you help me find my way?"
Charon's gaze was inscrutable as he regarded Alex for a moment. "I can guide you across the river," he said finally. "This journey that you must make is one that only you can navigate. Although I am happy to sit and chat."
Alex laughed. This was absurd. "Ok," he said. "So... what was the point of it all? Life— and such."
"That is not something I am yet able to understand myself. What do you think it was all for?" Charon replied.
"Well— maybe the meaning of life is in the journey— and not the destination? I know that's so cliche..."
Charon chuckled but not in an unkind way. "That seemed about right to me. Life is certainly not about the destination. The destination is Death."
Death. He was dead. He knew that— but—
Here he was.
His voice quivered. They were already approaching the other side of the river. This journey was short, huh?
"What is Death?" Alex asked.
"My perception of Death has drifted with the aeons. Did you know that I used to charge a penny in exchange for a ride across this river?" Charon asked. Something flashed across his face. Shame, perhaps. "Some would ask me why I required a bribe but I would never answer that question. The truth is plain to me now— I wanted this crossing to always be at the back of mortal minds. Memento mori. I liked the thought that, up there, there were people, dying, thinking 'I better not forget my penny'."
Charon was quiet for a moment. "It is now my understanding that there is nothing noble in death. Life is meaning and death is devoid of meaning. There is no getting around that truth. My purpose is a grim one and a task I should perform truthly and emphatically."
He bowed his head to Alex. "I am truly sorry for your loss. Although, perhaps, what is lost is not yet lost."
Alex nodded. He understood. He thanked Charon for his wisdom. They had almost arrived but he still had time. Alex placed Charon's clothes in a neat pile. He waved Charon goodbye, before leaping from the boat and into the river Styx. It felt cold and old and primordial upon his back and yet he swam his way back towards the light.
Back towards life. He'll uncover its meaning for himself.
A violent shiver worked down Alex's spine as consciousness clawed its way back into his mind. Somehow, he convinced his muscles to rearrange his body into a sitting position. The world he saw was dark and cold as though it was buried deep. The sky was a void and the ground looked and smelled like ash. In front of him, a strange ethereal light glowed along the surface of a river which seemed to pulse with unnatural life. He felt the weight of his own existence settle heavily upon his chest. There was a pathway, lined by candles. A sense of anticipation hung in the air, as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to remember, to understand, and to decide.
Devoid of other choices, Alex followed the path down to the river's bank. Here, he found a dock, crudely constructed out of large black bricks. The boat, however, seemed almost an extension of the river itself. Its form was not fixed, but fluid, shifting and morphing with the river's currents, as if it were made of shadows and memories rather than wood and nails.
Before Alex was quite able to take in the strangest detail, something clicked in his mind. This cold world was more familiar than he had recognized, as he had read about this place. He was standing upon the banks of the river Styx, the final boundary between life and death.
Standing in the boat, as he has been for all eternity, was Charon, a sight that defied easy definition. His form was fluid, like the boat, constantly shifting and changing, a mirage of human and inhuman shapes. His eyes, however, remained constant - deep, fathomless pools of darkness that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand lifetimes. His gaze was neither kind nor cruel. He extended a hand towards Alex, an invitation and a challenge all in one.
He took Charon's hand and found himself hoisted into the boat. Alex sat, shivering, as he tried to look at anything but Charon, someone who his brain was not yet ready to comprehend. Until panic shot through him, as the indescribable ferryman was approaching, carrying a bundle of fabrics. He dropped it onto Alex's lap.
"Put these on or you'll catch your death," Charon said with a chuckle, blinking down at the human. Alex did as he was told, and soon wore a long grey cloak, a pair of gloves, and some leather earmuffs—all of which worked together to keep the chill at bay.
Charon sat facing him, grasping oars with slender hands, and began to row across the river. From then on, the pair travelled in silence, until Alex finally felt able to ask a question. "Why am I here?" His voice trembled slightly, the weight of the question bearing down on him. He had read about the river Styx and a fair bit of Greek Mythology, but that had been under the guise of fiction!
"Many ask that question," Charon replied, his voice as fluid and enigmatic as his appearance. "The answer is different for everyone. Some come seeking closure, while others are still running or chasing. And some are just simply lost."
Alex resonated strongly with that last word. Lost. That was exactly how he felt. Lost in this dark world, lost in a life that felt meaningless and empty. He had been feeling lost for much of his life. It seemed only natural that it would greet him in death, too.
He looked up at Charon, his eyes filled with a confusing mix of despair and hope. "Can you help me find my way?"
Charon's gaze was inscrutable as he regarded Alex for a moment. "I can guide you across the river," he said finally. "This journey that you must make is one that only you can navigate. Although I am happy to sit and chat."
Alex laughed. This was absurd. "Ok," he said. "So... what was the point of it all? Life— and such."
"That is not something I am yet able to understand myself. What do you think it was all for?" Charon replied.
"Well— maybe the meaning of life is in the journey— and not the destination? I know that's so cliche..."
Charon chuckled but not in an unkind way. "That seemed about right to me. Life is certainly not about the destination. The destination is Death."
Death. He was dead. He knew that— but—
Here he was.
His voice quivered. They were already approaching the other side of the river. This journey was short, huh?
"What is Death?" Alex asked.
"My perception of Death has drifted with the aeons. Did you know that I used to charge a penny in exchange for a ride across this river?" Charon asked. Something flashed across his face. Shame, perhaps. "Some would ask me why I required a bribe but I would never answer that question. The truth is plain to me now— I wanted this crossing to always be at the back of mortal minds. Memento mori. I liked the thought that, up there, there were people, dying, thinking 'I better not forget my penny'."
Charon was quiet for a moment. "It is now my understanding that there is nothing noble in death. Life is meaning and death is devoid of meaning. There is no getting around that truth. My purpose is a grim one and a task I should perform truthly and emphatically."
He bowed his head to Alex. "I am truly sorry for your loss. Although, perhaps, what is lost is not yet lost."
Alex nodded. He understood. He thanked Charon for his wisdom. They had almost arrived but he still had time. Alex placed Charon's clothes in a neat pile. He waved Charon goodbye, before leaping from the boat and into the river Styx. It felt cold and old and primordial upon his back and yet he swam his way back towards the light.
Back towards life. He'll uncover its meaning for himself.
A violent shiver worked down Alex's spine as consciousness clawed its way back into his mind. Somehow, he convinced his muscles to rearrange his body into a sitting position. The world he saw was dark and cold as though it was buried deep. The sky was a void and the ground looked and smelled like ash. In front of him, a strange ethereal light glowed along the surface of a river which seemed to pulse with unnatural life. He felt the weight of his own existence settle heavily upon his chest. There was a pathway, lined by candles. A sense of anticipation hung in the air, as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to remember, to understand, and to decide.
Devoid of other choices, Alex followed the path down to the river's bank. Here, he found a dock, crudely constructed out of large black bricks. The boat, however, seemed almost an extension of the river itself. Its form was not fixed, but fluid, shifting and morphing with the river's currents, as if it were made of shadows and memories rather than wood and nails.
Before Alex was quite able to take in the strangest detail, something clicked in his mind. This cold world was more familiar than he had recognized, as he had read about this place. He was standing upon the banks of the river Styx, the final boundary between life and death.
Standing in the boat, as he has been for all eternity, was Charon, a sight that defied easy definition. His form was fluid, like the boat, constantly shifting and changing, a mirage of human and inhuman shapes. His eyes, however, remained constant - deep, fathomless pools of darkness that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand lifetimes. His gaze was neither kind nor cruel. He extended a hand towards Alex, an invitation and a challenge all in one.
He took Charon's hand and found himself hoisted into the boat. Alex sat, shivering, as he tried to look at anything but Charon, someone who his brain was not yet ready to comprehend. Until panic shot through him, as the indescribable ferryman was approaching, carrying a bundle of fabrics. He dropped it onto Alex's lap.
"Put these on or you'll catch your death," Charon said with a chuckle, blinking down at the human. Alex did as he was told, and soon wore a long grey cloak, a pair of gloves, and some leather earmuffs—all of which worked together to keep the chill at bay.
Charon sat facing him, grasping oars with slender hands, and began to row across the river. From then on, the pair travelled in silence, until Alex finally felt able to ask a question. "Why am I here?" His voice trembled slightly, the weight of the question bearing down on him. He had read about the river Styx and a fair bit of Greek Mythology, but that had been under the guise of fiction!
"Many ask that question," Charon replied, his voice as fluid and enigmatic as his appearance. "The answer is different for everyone. Some come seeking closure, while others are still running or chasing. And some are just simply lost."
Alex resonated strongly with that last word. Lost. That was exactly how he felt. Lost in this dark world, lost in a life that felt meaningless and empty. He had been feeling lost for much of his life. It seemed only natural that it would greet him in death, too.
He looked up at Charon, his eyes filled with a confusing mix of despair and hope. "Can you help me find my way?"
Charon's gaze was inscrutable as he regarded Alex for a moment. "I can guide you across the river," he said finally. "This journey that you must make is one that only you can navigate. Although I am happy to sit and chat."
Alex laughed. This was absurd. "Ok," he said. "So... what was the point of it all? Life— and such."
"That is not something I am yet able to understand myself. What do you think it was all for?" Charon replied.
"Well— maybe the meaning of life is in the journey— and not the destination? I know that's so cliche..."
Charon chuckled but not in an unkind way. "That seemed about right to me. Life is certainly not about the destination. The destination is Death."
Death. He was dead. He knew that— but—
Here he was.
His voice quivered. They were already approaching the other side of the river. This journey was short, huh?
"What is Death?" Alex asked.
"My perception of Death has drifted with the aeons. Did you know that I used to charge a penny in exchange for a ride across this river?" Charon asked. Something flashed across his face. Shame, perhaps. "Some would ask me why I required a bribe but I would never answer that question. The truth is plain to me now— I wanted this crossing to always be at the back of mortal minds. Memento mori. I liked the thought that, up there, there were people, dying, thinking 'I better not forget my penny'."
Charon was quiet for a moment. "It is now my understanding that there is nothing noble in death. Life is meaning and death is devoid of meaning. There is no getting around that truth. My purpose is a grim one and a task I should perform truthly and emphatically."
He bowed his head to Alex. "I am truly sorry for your loss. Although, perhaps, what is lost is not yet lost."
Alex nodded. He understood. He thanked Charon for his wisdom. They had almost arrived but he still had time. Alex placed Charon's clothes in a neat pile. He waved Charon goodbye, before leaping from the boat and into the river Styx. It felt cold and old and primordial upon his back and yet he swam his way back towards the light.
Back towards life. He'll uncover its meaning for himself.
A violent shiver worked down Alex's spine as consciousness clawed its way back into his mind. Somehow, he convinced his muscles to rearrange his body into a sitting position. The world he saw was dark and cold as though it was buried deep. The sky was a void and the ground looked and smelled like ash. In front of him, a strange ethereal light glowed along the surface of a river which seemed to pulse with unnatural life. He felt the weight of his own existence settle heavily upon his chest. There was a pathway, lined by candles. A sense of anticipation hung in the air, as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to remember, to understand, and to decide.
Devoid of other choices, Alex followed the path down to the river's bank. Here, he found a dock, crudely constructed out of large black bricks. The boat, however, seemed almost an extension of the river itself. Its form was not fixed, but fluid, shifting and morphing with the river's currents, as if it were made of shadows and memories rather than wood and nails.
Before Alex was quite able to take in the strangest detail, something clicked in his mind. This cold world was more familiar than he had recognized, as he had read about this place. He was standing upon the banks of the river Styx, the final boundary between life and death.
Standing in the boat, as he has been for all eternity, was Charon, a sight that defied easy definition. His form was fluid, like the boat, constantly shifting and changing, a mirage of human and inhuman shapes. His eyes, however, remained constant - deep, fathomless pools of darkness that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand lifetimes. His gaze was neither kind nor cruel. He extended a hand towards Alex, an invitation and a challenge all in one.
He took Charon's hand and found himself hoisted into the boat. Alex sat, shivering, as he tried to look at anything but Charon, someone who his brain was not yet ready to comprehend. Until panic shot through him, as the indescribable ferryman was approaching, carrying a bundle of fabrics. He dropped it onto Alex's lap.
"Put these on or you'll catch your death," Charon said with a chuckle, blinking down at the human. Alex did as he was told, and soon wore a long grey cloak, a pair of gloves, and some leather earmuffs—all of which worked together to keep the chill at bay.
Charon sat facing him, grasping oars with slender hands, and began to row across the river. From then on, the pair travelled in silence, until Alex finally felt able to ask a question. "Why am I here?" His voice trembled slightly, the weight of the question bearing down on him. He had read about the river Styx and a fair bit of Greek Mythology, but that had been under the guise of fiction!
"Many ask that question," Charon replied, his voice as fluid and enigmatic as his appearance. "The answer is different for everyone. Some come seeking closure, while others are still running or chasing. And some are just simply lost."
Alex resonated strongly with that last word. Lost. That was exactly how he felt. Lost in this dark world, lost in a life that felt meaningless and empty. He had been feeling lost for much of his life. It seemed only natural that it would greet him in death, too.
He looked up at Charon, his eyes filled with a confusing mix of despair and hope. "Can you help me find my way?"
Charon's gaze was inscrutable as he regarded Alex for a moment. "I can guide you across the river," he said finally. "This journey that you must make is one that only you can navigate. Although I am happy to sit and chat."
Alex laughed. This was absurd. "Ok," he said. "So... what was the point of it all? Life— and such."
"That is not something I am yet able to understand myself. What do you think it was all for?" Charon replied.
"Well— maybe the meaning of life is in the journey— and not the destination? I know that's so cliche..."
Charon chuckled but not in an unkind way. "That seemed about right to me. Life is certainly not about the destination. The destination is Death."
Death. He was dead. He knew that— but—
Here he was.
His voice quivered. They were already approaching the other side of the river. This journey was short, huh?
"What is Death?" Alex asked.
"My perception of Death has drifted with the aeons. Did you know that I used to charge a penny in exchange for a ride across this river?" Charon asked. Something flashed across his face. Shame, perhaps. "Some would ask me why I required a bribe but I would never answer that question. The truth is plain to me now— I wanted this crossing to always be at the back of mortal minds. Memento mori. I liked the thought that, up there, there were people, dying, thinking 'I better not forget my penny'."
Charon was quiet for a moment. "It is now my understanding that there is nothing noble in death. Life is meaning and death is devoid of meaning. There is no getting around that truth. My purpose is a grim one and a task I should perform truthly and emphatically."
He bowed his head to Alex. "I am truly sorry for your loss. Although, perhaps, what is lost is not yet lost."
Alex nodded. He understood. He thanked Charon for his wisdom. They had almost arrived but he still had time. Alex placed Charon's clothes in a neat pile. He waved Charon goodbye, before leaping from the boat and into the river Styx. It felt cold and old and primordial upon his back and yet he swam his way back towards the light.
Back towards life. He'll uncover its meaning for himself.