In a dungeon of Hell
i sit in the corner, dark and cold,
questioning why i do as i’m told.
wondering bout this room of mine,
asking why the sun won’t shine.
the door unlocks and gets flung open,
and there stands Hades, so outspoken.
He throws my scythe and hands my robe,
telling me “Go fetch a soul!”
i wonder out, but where to go?
when suddenly i sense a soul.
the soul is old but newly dead,
i’m wondering if he was wed.
i hold my scythe, and aim to swing.
Oh why does this keep happening?
i smile sadly, poised to strike.
and think ‘don’t work’ with all my might.
Hades calls me back i can’t evade.
he bids me back into my cage.
left no comp’ny but the dark,
till the next time i depart.
so here i’m tapped inside this room
where not even flowers choose to bloom
and here i’m stuck with hades my keeper
even though, i am, the Grim Reaper.
I wrote this poem based on an assignment I was given in class. The goal was to write from the Antagonist (aka the villain) point of view. To make the reader feel for and relate to the ‘bad guy’ in the story. I choose to do the Grim Reaper. He might seem like a bad guy to most, but I think our generation has turned him into something softer. And a little more kind. In my poem, Death (whose job title is Grim Reaper) is sorta being held prisoner by Hades. Hades needs somebody to go and collect souls, doesn’t he? I mean, it’s not like he could go out onto the world and get those souls himself, right? But Hades prefers to just do the paperwork. So he has Death go do it instead.
Now, Death is being kept locked away for a reason. It’s his punishment. See Death is Death, but he is not in charge of when or where people die. That’s The Fate’s job. He just collects the souls. And remember, this was before he has put under Hade’s guardianship. This story happens during the time he is still allowed to roam the earth freely.
Death would come and give collect souls of all sorts. He did his job well and kept track of the souls he gathered. Then he would send them to Hades using a shadow dog he conjured up as the messenger. But one day, when he was collecting a fairly old woman’s soul, the soul asked if he would look out for her young grandchild. For the sake of helping the soul find peace, he agreed.
Later when his shadow dogs came back from a delivery to Hades, Death noticed that one of them had a note tied to its collar. Death unrolled the piece of paper to find that Hades was telling him to keep his promise. And so Death began to take care of the little girl.
He showed up at the house the old woman had lived in to find the little girl trying to wake her grandmother. The little girl had tears streaming down her cheeks, so Death asked one of his hounds to lick her face to try to cheer her up. But after receiving a giant slobbery kiss from the Shadow dog, she was gifted with Special Sight and was now able to see Death and his dogs. The little girl, who been crying at her cold grandmother’s side since the night before, threw herself at Death, wrapping her tiny arms as best she could around his waist and clutching his robe tightly in her itty-bitty hands. Death tried to comfort her as best he could, but he was Death and had little experience dealing with emotions like grief.
And that is where I will stop this story for this blog post. If you want to know what happens next, comment below and let me know!
So poetic, I like the hint of Greeko-Roman mythology.
I absolutely ADORED this! I loved every single line, and the story after the poem was just as impactful. I want to hear more about this version of death and the world surrounding him.