I was ferried to that apocalyptic shore by Charon, who
was visibly wearied by these busy days. I landed as
bones and in full, haunting regalia. Scythe and all.
From the assembled masses there was not a flinch,
hardly any response. I have to admit, it was

In my time, I have of course met many a soul that has
stood tall in my presence. Yet those that would not
cower, have always stared me down. Unafraid, but
aware. And those souls are few and far between.

On that beach, I had never seen so many self assured
that they were in paradise. I don’t think they could
imagine there was any other option. By all appearances
it was a convention for perpetual holiday-makers.

They were motley, standing in casual defiance under
incomprehensible banners. But what they opposed I
could not understand. It certainly wasn’t me. They
busied themselves with their many instruments that had
piled up around them on the sand. Instruments that
whirred and spat without ever-ceasing.

Now, I don’t need the validation of the people’s
shrieks and wails. I’ve had more than enough of that
in this eternity. Yet I had never been so unregarded,
and who wouldn’t feel insulted?

You know me though, I don’t dwell on appearances or
expectations. Not on the peculiar opinions of witless
bathers. No, I simply shrugged my bony shoulders and
went to work.

I cut them down, and even then, they couldn’t be
bothered as many souls of their community were
excised. The remaining continue to mind themselves
happily as if the sand were not bloody beneath them.

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