Dead Lines

1: Skip This Year

Unedited.

“You have to do this. In order to go back, you have to do this.”

I looked from the River Styx to Hades, his crystal blue eyes assessing. He wasn’t going to make me even though it looked like he had the urge to push me in. Logios stood on the other side of the river, the perfect picture of patience and poise. He smiled at me when I looked at him. It was supposed to be reassuring but the wide expanse of river that separated us filled me with unease and dread. The water glowed an eerie green and the fast churning made me want to vomit, even though I hadn’t eaten anything.

“You can do it, Epiphany,” Logios called from across the river. “Just don’t get pulled too far under.”

The Styx River wasn’t supposed to be swum. In fact, the ferry was supposed to be the mode of transportation when traversing this particular body of water. However, that was only to carry the souls from the living to the dead, not the other way around. I had to do this on my own if I wanted to get back topside.

I looked from Logios back to the river. There was no doubt in my mind that it would be hard to reach the other side which was the point. The water would decide whether I was worthy enough to be helped across or pulled so far under I would just become another soul in its midst.

Because that’s what the water was essentially, souls. Souls that awaited to be reborn into new bodies but never got the chance.

“Don’t be scared,” Hades whispered. “You’ll be safe when you reach the other side. But this is your last chance to change your mind. So, Natalie, do you want to go?”

…“Do you want to go?”

The repeated question jarred me out of my thoughts and I took a quick glance out the window to catch a brief visual of the billboard for the local corn maze. It was done once a year on the same farm. This year, however, I was having a hard time looking at the larger than life advertisements. I tried my best not to notice them but when the background was a soul sucking black and there was an ugly, sinister looking pumpkin suppositively leading you into the maze, you couldn’t miss it. After what happened a couple of weeks ago, they’d be lucky if I ever went near a corn field again let alone step into that particular one, maze or no.

“I think I’ll skip it this year.”

“Come on, Nat. It’s tradition. We get dressed up for Halloween and then run around the maze like crazed kids hyped up on too much candy until they kick us out when it closes.”

I looked over at my best guy friend who was currently sitting in the passenger seat eating a bag of caramel popcorn. We’d stopped by the coffee shop this morning so I could get my schedule for the week and a pumpkin white chocolate mocha. He, of course not needing that much sugar, just got the bag of gooeyness he was now devouring. I couldn’t tell the difference of the sugar content but he swore his choice was healthier than mine.

“Can’t we come up with a new tradition this year, Schy? I’m tired of doing the same old thing. Why don’t we do something exciting like toilet papering an unsuspecting neighbor’s house or getting drunk in the graveyard?”

“As fun as all that sounds, I think we better stick to the legal stuff. Plus they make it the haunted corn maze for its last night. It’s awesome!”

“Can’t we go to the haunted mansion instead?”

How was I supposed to explain to him that I didn’t want to go into that maze because I’d died there a few weeks ago? I couldn’t. That’s how. If he found out, he’d freak out and probably start hacking people to pieces after locking me in a trunk for my own safety.