Carefully, I place a foot on the first rock. The large stone is round and the surface is flat so it’s an easy first step. The second rock is slightly smaller and the tip comes to a bit of a point, so I hop quickly from the second rock to the third. I repeat the same process until I come to the seventh and final rock.
First off, the rock is an odd shape with three prong-like portions. Two that stick out horizontally and one that sticks up vertically. This rock reminds me of half of a star, the other half is submerged under water. There is a gap in between the horizontal prongs, but it’s not like the surface is smooth. No, the surface is full of bumps and as the river plows into it, another layer of moisture slaps down on top of it. Only a foot, maybe two at the most separates me from the o
pposite side of the river. So I place one foot on the rock in the right spot then slowly place the other one in the left spot. Just when I think I’m going to make it across, a repetitive plunking noise distracts me and my sends my right foot jetting forward an inch. My limbs flail and I arch my back. Oh no! I’m going to fall.
Out of nowhere, as if pair of hands are on my back I’m shoved forward and my knees pound into the gray river bank. Uneasy, I glance over my shoulder to see who or what just pushed me, but there’s nothing. No one. Nothing but gray skies, rushing water and slippery stepping stones. The plunking noise I’d heard a second earlier grows louder and in the distance I see the bow of a wooden ship.
The rickety wooden oars twirl around and move through the water and the ship almost sails past the wooden dock. On my feet I rush over to the dock, skidding to a stop at the edge. A rope ladder unwinds down the side of the ship. I watch intensely as a grisly man climbs down and hops off onto the dock.
“Sir,” I say, slinking closer.
He lifts his head, squinting an eye at me. “Eh?”
“Is your name Charon?”
He keeps himself at least a foot away from me, eyeing me curiously. Then reaching up, he removes a fitted black hat from his head. Wisps of white hair stand up as he scratches a bald-spot consuming half of his head. “Who’s asking?” he inquires in a grizzly voice.
“You’re the ferryman, right?”
He nods and places the hat back on his head. “I am.”
I lurch closer to him. “Can you take me back to the land of the living? I’ve been brought here by mistake.”
He holds out his hand to me. I stare at the crinkled palm full of callouses for a second confused, then shrug and slap it.
“What was that for?” he rasps.
“Weren’t you welcoming me? On earth slapping hands is like a welcome gesture.”
“Well, down here it means pay me or go away.” He turns to walk away.
“Pay you? For what?”
“The ferry ride. You got a danake?”
I scrunch my eyebrows together. “A danake?” Danakes don’t exist anymore. They were the form of currency in Ancient Greece. I find it odd that Hades is up to date technology-wise, but his ferryman is still requesting extinct currency as a form of payment.
“Well, any kind of coin will do,” he tells me.
Frantically, I fumble through my pockets hoping that I have some spare change on me. I turn my empty jean pocket inside out. “I don’t have any money.”
“No money, no ferry ride,” he says gruffly as he walks down the dock.
“Can’t you make an exception?” I plead. “I came all this way!” And was chased by spirits and almost fell into a river of death.
“No money! No ride!”
“Unfortunately for you, Charon is a very greedy man.” The voice of a third man rings out.
I whip around and face Hades. I frown, disgusted and sneer, “What are you doing here?”
“Well, first I saved your life when you almost fell into the Styx. It’s not very smart to play on rocks in the river. You never know when you might slip and fall.”
My jaw drops. “That was you!”
He nods. “And it’s a good thing I went searching for my queen after I discovered she wasn’t in her room.”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Hades,” I say harshly. “I’m not now, nor will I ever be your queen.”