He heard the voices from the members of his family, begging for his fight, begging that he had to resist a little more, but he felt tired in order to prolong that flame in his deep inside that kept him alive. The last thing that he knew before falling into the death’s arms was that his mother took his hands, leaving something there.
He opened his eyes, discovering a sky full of dark clouds, without stars, without moon; he felt that his lungs burned, like if he had not been able to have oxygen for a long time. He breathed with clenched fists, noticing that something was being thrust into his skin. He opened his hands and watched that golden coin that his mother gave him.
He sat up, realizing that he was not alone. There were more people sat in the sand, close to the shore of what it looked like a lake. What happened? He knew that he was dead. He knew it. So, what was that place?
People started to gather on the shore. He tried to stare beyond people, realizing the presence of a small boat in which rose above an old man. People cried for his return, they pushed between them in order to reach that boat. He did not understand that behavior. He did not understand why that old man looked at them, scrutinizing for those who were suitable for the next voyage. He averted his gaze when he listened to the screams of a man who was being hit by that old man.
«You, the boy who is over there».
Suddenly, he felt that hundreds of eyes were looking at him. Little by little, he looked at people again, understanding that he was the target of all that looks full of mistrust, hatred. He looked at that man that made a hand gesture, indicating him to get closer. His mind shouted him that he did not accomplish the order, but his body started to move without its own volition, obeying the imposed order.
He felt the cold water when he entered into the lake. He felt shivers in all his body just by finding himself looking at that man, in a short distance. He could see each bone of his skeleton that his broken clothes showed. He could see his white hair caused by aging, the wrinkles in his gaunt face that looked like a skull. His entire body trembled because of fear.
«Do you have the money for your travel to the Underworld?»
Something started to burn in his hand. He opened it, watching the coin that his mother had given him. He heard a laugh that made him to shrink. He closed his eyes, maybe waiting for some kind of blow. However, nothing happened. He opened his eyes, finding the bony hand of that human being.
«We expect a long journey».
The next thing that he knew was that he was travelling with Caronte, that was how he called himself, rowing in that boat on the Styx lake to arrive to the Underworld. Then, what could it happen to him?