The Ferryman’s Lament

The Ferryman’s Lament

In the hushed gloom, a solitary figure draped in tattered robes stands at the stern of an ancient wooden ferry, its timeworn planks creaking softly against the languid swirl of the Stygian waters. Charon, the eternal ferryman of souls, guides his vessel with a long pole through the mist-enshrouded river Styx, where ethereal wisps float like lost memories. The air is thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the distant echo of water lapping against the boat. Twisted trees claw at the heavy air from both banks, their gnarled roots reaching into the depths as if to ensnare unwary spirits. Above, a moon shrouded in a sickly hue casts an otherworldly glow upon this liminal realm where Charon tirelessly plies his trade, collecting those souls that wander unclaimed by either heaven or hell.