The Grey

I opened my eyes squinting briefly before quickly closing them again, “Nope, nope, nope, not happening this is a dream”, I said refusing to believe what my eyes just told me. I quickly opened one only to be greeted by the same thing as before: grey mist. I quickly sat upright and looked around only to be greeted by you guessed it, more grey mist.

My hands shot to my throat as I remembered the coldness of the blade that had sliced it open and to my horror the wound was still there. “Okay not a dream”, I said as my hands started shaking, pulling them away I stood up and looked around again hoping to find something other than mist. “Is there really nothing here? I don’t hear anything either, wait if I’m dead is this some sort of after-life? If so where is everything?”

I stood there for a while, but no answer was forthcoming. “Well can’t just stand around here forever”, I said and started walking through the featureless landscape that surrounded me.

After walking for an indeterminate length of time I finally heard something, the sound of a flowing river. Running in the direction of the first thing I heard other than my own voice seemed like a bad idea in zero visibility but its not like I had a lot of choice. Soon I came to the banks of the river and stared. The river was as dark as night and I couldn’t see the far side through the mist no matter how hard I tried. Glowing shapes of unknown origin moved beneath it’s surface in a manner that suggested that they were alive or at least ‘alive’ in the same way I was.

I saw a glowing light heading towards me through the mist and remembering the various stories about a boatman who ferries the souls of the dead across the river Styx assumed that this was where I was supposed to be.’

Sitting down on the bank but being careful not to let my feet get too close to the water I waited to see whether my assumptions were correct.

Sure, enough out of the mist appeared a small boat, and as it got closer and I could see it in more detail I noticed a short figure seemed to be on board. The boat was made of a dark wood that had long since lost whatever shine it once had, and the figure was dressed in surprisingly modern clothes, a hooded sweatshirt and plain pants of the nearly the same grey as the mist that surrounded him.

Reaching the bank next to me the figure reached down and grabbed a broad plank of wood which was then pushed in my direction. Reaching out on reflex I grabbed the plank and slowly lowered it to the ground as the figure reached up and pulled down the hood that covered it’s features.

I stood there staring for a while at the young boy on the boat. His eyes were black without a hint of white and his skin pale and translucent. “So, is your name Charon or is that just something people made up?” I eventually ask.

The boy smiled at me and said in a deep voice that sent shivers down my spine, “Actually no, I don’t have a name, but you can call me that if you want Jacob, now please get on the boat, we have places to be”.

Walking along the plank I stared at ‘Charon’, “Yes I think I will, may I ask where we are going?”

“Not to whatever afterlife you are expecting I’m afraid”, he said the smile slipping from his face. I frowning I reached down and pulled the plank into the boat behind me. “That didn’t actually answer my question Charon”.

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“No but that’s what you meant isn’t it?” he replied as the boat slowly moved away from the shore.

“Well yes but that just raises more questions!”, I shot back at him. Before realising that maybe I should be more careful with what I say to the diminutive being that was currently accompanying me across a river full of black water on a boat which seemed to be under its own power with no visible method of doing so. “Sorry I guess I’m in shock right now, not every day you die”.

He nodded his black eyes narrowing as he stared me down, “No it’s not, but then you aren’t actually dead I’m afraid.”

“Beg pardon?”

“You’re currently in between true life and true death and currently have a decision to make regarding this”, he sighed shaking his head slowly. “You can die a true death, or you can return to the land of the living.”

Dumbstruck I stared at him for a moment before gesturing to the still visible wound on my throat, “what about this, there’s no way I’ve survived long enough for the police to arrive and catch the people who killed me, I don’t even know how long I’ve been here.

“How long have you been here? he asked cryptically.

I thought about it for a while frowning slightly as I realised I didn’t know the answer to his question, I couldn’t remember how long I had been walking through the mist.

“Time doesn’t matter here”, Charon calmly stated, “It exists in between seconds and as such you haven’t been gone any time at all.

I nodded slowly, as this made a sort of sense to me and at the same time didn’t.

“So, what do we do now?”

Charon stood there looking at me, then said, “If you don’t know what decision to make tell me about yourself and the answer may become clearer.”

I think about it for a while before deciding to take his advice.

In all honesty my life wasn’t very interesting, my parents had raised me until I turned 16. My dad was tall, with shoulder length dark hair and eyes that always seemed to be laughing at some joke only he knew the punchline to, he worked an ordinary job, and always took the time to make sure I was doing fine at school. Mum was a teacher at my school her serious but kind nature making her popular with parents, thankfully she never taught me though.

I enjoyed reading and had a voracious appetite for books often spending hours at a time with one in my hand, delighting my mother who enjoyed supplying me with ever more worlds to explore the eyes of the characters within. My parents always had advice to give me when I was troubled, and I loved them deeply.

They died in an accident when I was 16, I was old enough to get a job to support myself and had to drop out of school to pay the bills, after what little money they had left me ran out. I ended up getting a job as a kitchen-hand at a café in town, where I later became a cook after the person that held the position previously had left. It wasn’t the greatest job, but it was something I had achieved by myself. I had more than a few years working there and had clashed with the manager of the café more than a few times when he had harassed female staff members.

I turned 19 a few months before I made the decision that led me here.

Charon stared at me and asked me something I wasn’t expecting. “Are you sure your parents are dead?”

“Yeah I was taken to identify the bodies at the morgue”, I said bewildered.

“And if I told you that you were mistaken, that they were still alive?”

“Supposing that’s true where have they been for the past three years?”

He looked at in surprise at my apparent acceptance of his statement.

“Well?”

“To answer that question, you would have to ask them yourself, it’s not my place to say”, he said shaking his head. “I can tell you that they didn’t have much of a choice in the matter”.

“Then take me back, they wouldn’t want me to give up on myself if I had the chance anyway”, he nodded as I said this, “Very well, but I must tell you that as you have already guessed humans can’t come back from here normally.

He raised a hand to stop me from asking the question I was about to. “All I can tell you is that you aren’t as normal as you think you are and that you must be prepared to fight, no matter what happens next as more than you know depends on it.”

He the turned away from me looking ahead. “This is your last chance to change your mind”.

Remembering the thing that had helped me make the decision that led me here I smiled. ‘A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

Charon nodded his head and pulled his grey hood back up over his head, “very well close your eyes, and the next time you open them you will be back in the alley”.

“Thank you, Charon, I hope we can meet again one day, but let’s not make it too soon.” I said slowly closing my eyes.