Per Styga, per manes vehor
I drift across the Styx tonight, through ghosts. 100 words from the DARKER side...
I drift across the Styx tonight, through ghosts — the ghosts of Predators, the ghosts of the Vicious and the Greedy, of the Creators of Chaos, who have been banished to this final realm of shades.
I see them grovel on their knees for forgiveness, the acrid taste of sulfur in their throats. I’m not moved by their agony.
Often, in dreams, I find myself wading through this stygian fen, my jaws clenched, my eyes sharp, gratified to see the ghosts of the Cruel and Self-serving swept away from the Earth, forever unpardoned.
I drift across the Styx tonight, through ghosts.
Beck’s Wave from the album Morning Phase, 2014 ( triple-click the arrow)
My title is from a line in Titus Andronicus, by William Shakespeare.
The River Styx...such an iconic place to see, feel or cross. What if?
If one crosses is that the beginning of the end? You've got the feeling stuck, (or is that a feeling that sticks?) in my gullet....
Boats are an odd tool. I like very few. Better to be through than left behind, but once is more than plenty.