Charon

Alex Segelhurst

The swollen and water-rotted souls split,
giving room for my boat to dock
while I hum a ditty stuck in my head.
The line forms like every day before.
This stupid cowl keeps getting in the way
but I find the purse where it always is.
I smirk when they give me the silver,
releasing their last stake in the old world.
“Thank you. Come again.”
One steps forward with shaking, empty palms.
I roll my eyes and let out a deep sigh.
“Listen lady, you know the rules.
You Pay or You Stay. Simple as that.”
Her impotent tears start to soak my tattered robe.
The dead and forgotten lustfully crawl closer,
their hollow eye sockets flooded black.
“Hey Doll, I don’t make the rules,”
I check my bare wrist disappointingly,
“and now I’m behind schedule.”
I shove off, leaving her stranded.
Who do I look like, Saint Peter?
She decides to follow me anyway.
That was a mistake.
A thousand hands shoot from the water and grab her.
She wails as she is ripped apart in a bloody instant.
I shake my head absently and chuckle at her stupidity,
trying to remember what song I was singing when I pulled up.