Sunday, April 09, 2006

I had expected to find some approximation of the legendary River Styx, complete with grim-faced boatman Charon, or at least a dead and decaying vista that would pass for what was the oft-mentioned stygian landscape of the Land of the Dead.

Funny how a certain cliche can be perpetrated to the extent that no one bothers to question its validity anymore.

Instead, all I found was an endless expanse of blue, stretching as far as the eye could visualise in all directions.

The experience was not unlike being submerged in the deep ocean, only that the light was neither completely absent or emanating from a source high above, but instead a uniform illumination that defied any attempts at identification.

Above me, I felt rather than saw the souls of the newly-deceased passing by, their soft murmurs a low hum in my mind. I could not discern the words, if words they were, but I could felt the raw, unadulterated emotion of souls no longer bound by earthly forms - here a snatch of utter sadness, there a glimpse of pure anger.

The final and overriding emotion of each of the dead, imprinted forever in their consciousness, washed over me like a flood and it was all I could do to stand my ground and not be overwhelmed.

When my eyes found their focus, I beheld a lone figure in the distance. What was left of my sanity implored me not to continue, to turn back from the path of madness.

But that voice was just a whisper now.

Another step forward.



Death beckoned me closer. I had expected some colossal otherwordly figure, but as the current trend would have it, cliches were there to be disproven. Instead, the visage of Death was simply that of a well-groomed gentleman, rather in the style of 17th-century Victorian attire.

His appearance was entirely human as first glance, yet as I gazed into his eyes, I shuddered, for they revealed their owner's true nature. Notwithstanding a certain proverb about one's eyes, Death's twin orbs of vision seemed impossibly old, betraying not only an aura of weariness but also every possible emotion that can and must have been felt through the souls of the deceased.

With difficulty, I looked away. Those eyes had the insidious ability to hypnotise and ensnare those who strayed too far from the path of curiosity.



"Why do you challenge Death Himself?" A faint whisper in my mind.

My mouth was dry. I had no response.

"Answer me, mortal, or face the consequences of what you are proposing right now."

My dry tongue could only grind out the barest of replies. "Because..."

"I know the reason you are here." Unflappably, "I want to know why you have insisted on coming."

If Death insisted on talking me down, I had to play along.

"I do not care for myself. I do not fear for my fate, if I may achieve what I came here to do."

Death displayed no emotion, and yet the soft currents of foreign thought took on a faintly mocking tone.

"You do not fear? Fear. It is written all over your mind. It is as obvious as the fragility your mind is built on, yet you expect me to believe you?"

Death was merciless.

"No, I shall tell you why you are here. You have been compelled by guilt, compelled by duty, but most of all, you have been forced here by shame."

I quailed.

"Shame that you could bear to live with, shame that your own notion of manliness has let you down."



The terror I had been stolidly keeping in check all along now built to a wailing crescendo.

Like a rapidly-emptying basin, my liquid courage leaked away.

I dropped to one knee.

The fear of failure had become so real, had finally manifested itself indelibly right at the worst possible moment. I had lost the initiative.

But I had not failed yet.

Self-sacrifice. Self-sacrifice. I kept repeating the words over in my mind, dredging up the emotions to feel them all the more keenly, trying to block out the demons of fear.



After an eternity, the flood of apprehension somehow subsided to a manageable trickle.

I looked up, a steely determination not to be bested again, least of all by myself.

Death was patient.

"However, shame is no less a valid reason for facing the greatest of your fears, and overcoming them. Many mortals have been given a reprieve from their fate, simply because a comrade was sufficiently driven by shame to attempt the unthinkable."

A life for a life.

The end would justify the means.



Death was pulling back a sleeve of His long, black cloak.

Unlike the polished facial appearance, Death's hand was pockmarked with disease and corruption, riddled with scars and marked with countless wrinkles.

"Your final barrier to save the soul of the one you have come for. Take my hand, and you will be one with the spirits."

"There will be no pain."

My decision. My life.

My love.



I am so high, I can hear heaven
I am so high, I can hear heaven
Whoa, but heaven
No, heaven don't hear me

And they say that
A hero could save us
I'm not gonna stand here and wait
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles
Watch as they all fly away

Someone told me
Love would all save us
But, how can that be
Look what love gave us

A world full of killing
And blood spilling
That world never came

And they say that
A hero could save us
I'm not gonna stand here and wait
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles
Watch as they all fly away

Now that the world isn't ending
It's love that I'm sending to you
It isn't the love of a hero
And that's why I fear it won't do

And they say that
A hero could save us
I'm not gonna stand here and wait
I'll hold onto the wings of an eagle's
Watch as they all fly away

And they're watching us
They're watching us
As we all fly away

And they're watching us
They're watching us
As we all fly away

And they're watching us
They're watching us
As we all fly away

- Nickelback, Hero