The phone’s harsh glow invaded the space

Revealing in the dark an olive face

While others slept soundly at this hour

Inside her fear blossomed and flowered

Minutes crawled by and anxieties increased

Like a bomb ticking down to a final release

He was coming, it was soon

At the apex of the moon

Harvest’s end brings winter’s gloom

And her confinement to her tomb

Beads of sweat dripped down her neck 

As scalding air began its trek

Drawers and chests shook and quaked

As bits of dust flew and snaked

Taking shape 

There was no escape

 

Noxious sulfur took the air

‘Til from dust lurked a figure there

Cloaked in black at her bed’s foot stood 

A gnarled old man, face hidden by hood

He made his living collecting the tolls

Of those dearly departed and all other damned souls

The ferryman emanated an ancient aura

From before there was man, fauna, or flora

His very presence was in stark contrariety

To her modern apartment and modern amenities

Even so, she knew him well

He was the man sent to drag her to hell

A guiding spirit for collection and transport 

A courier over Styx, an experienced escort  

He beckoned her close as reality shifted

And Sheol appeared when the veil was lifted. 

 

His skin fell away ‘til only bone remained

A skeletal semblance unevenly stained

From the voids of his eyes darkness leaked 

And from Tartarus’ pit raw throats shrieked.

Demeter’s daughter, sobbing in fear, 

Began to walk as she did every year

Slowly suppressing emotion and mind 

She sat in his boat and for summer she pined

Smiling wickedly, the ferryman dreamed

Of precious gold from this job he would glean

Shivering, sweating, breaths rough and short

She prayed to her mother for luck in His court

Slow and unsteady, she wiped up her tears

Resolving towards strength, she made her vow here

Then, staring deep into chasm-like eyes,

She nodded her head: she was ready to die

 

Pushing off from the mortal realm,

She looked longingly back as he took the helm,

He dipped his pole into river below,

Water black as tar, bubbling as though

It hid men, chained underneath,

Gasping for air and gnashing their teeth

For any ounce of relief 

No matter how brief

The currents carried them deep into hell

Past docile spirits with nothing to tell

But tales of past glories and stories of victories

Never finding an end, so far lost in old memories

They quickly approached then wrecked into shore

But before she could shout, the boat had been moored

Landfall to her prison, not a regular cell

But to her next trial: the fields Asphodel 

 

A flat, barren plain stood lonely before her

Lacking in texture, in hills, or in corners

With one step inside, it extended forever

Suspended in time, it demanded surrender

Wisps of men wondered adrift

Murmuring regrets and laying down shrift

Uncanny echoes from minds long gone

Bathed in the early sunlight of dawn. 

Warily treading the meadows of gold

Disallowing herself the chance to be lulled

Into such a state as this

Mind forever dogged by mist.

So she continued despite what it seemed

Or else she would live forever in dreams

Persistence renewed, mind made and cleared

She looked up and on as field’s end appeared

 

Skirting ‘round regions of anguish and torment

Pushing on forward ‘til screams had gone dormant 

She waited for gallant Elysium’s cheers

The only shred of happiness here

When heroes’ cries of lives well lead

Overtook silence, surrounding her head

She knew she was close, the palace ahead

But with that relief came an impasse of dread

He had stalked her for thousands of years

Refusing to leave, He would always appear

On the fringe of perception, just out of sight

An incubus watching her all through the night

The stone towers stood overlooking the land

Cracked and well-worn, extravagant, grand

Accented by gold and topped with a dome

This was her bastille, this was her home

 

The King’s court lay through gardens lush

Picturesque, by strokes of brush

Of nooks in hell, she had but one

But even then, despite warm sun

Her hiding place and sole retreat

Was was tinged with grey and bittersweet.

Despite twee shrubs and flowers there

Coldness settled center square

Pomegranates and their seeds

Cursed her to such misery

Enchanted as to not be moved

As many hours spent had proved

She just sighed, walked through the gate

Before the vitriol and hate

Could go and further relegate 

Her beam of light in ghastly fate

 

He sat upon a throne that changed

From precious stones to gold, it ranged

Any wealth found buried deep

Was His alone and His to keep

Entering this deepest chamber

She found Him waiting, not in anger

But in hot anticipation 

Smiling in deep admiration.

She did not return these feelings

She had reached her top, her ceiling

Kettle whistled, overflowing 

While she had been undergoing

Hell itself, He rode His throne.

Let her suffer all alone

She wanted to hurt Him and disappear 

Instead she smiled and choked back tears.