What Tony Found out....

So what was it that was so big and scary that I had to stop talking just now ? In my view, something that makes the assassination of JFK seem like small beer - and what's more, something that someone can actually do something about. I know what the rules are for Gods and mortals and this one breaks almost all of them at once. The only question for me is whether I tell about it - go public, in other words, or whether I use what I know to make them do the right thing without the shame of the public knowing what they get up to. Either way, my relationship with Aphrodite won't ever be the same, and going back downstairs will be different because Mr H is in it up to his neck, and he won't be best pleased with me whatever I do, plus there's a couple of other gods who might have it in for me a bit more than they have now, and they aren't the sort of gods you really want to piss off too much. So what do I do ? If I tell you what I know, maybe you could tell me what I ought to do next - you know, some sort of popular vote, like on reality TV, only where the vote tells me what people want me to do about it. So let's go with that for now - whether I consider myslef bound by your decision is, at this point anyway, up to me. So - here goes. One day, when we were resting after a bit of a frolic ( or a romp as the tabloids would call it) Aphrodite's mobile goes off. Normally she just switches it off, but this time she was asleep and it went through to voicemail - and for some weird reason, her phone was on speaker so I could hear every word. It was Artemis, and she was asking her, first of all, how things were going, whether she was still enjoying having me around, and saying that if she'd got fed up of me, to pass me on to her - she could think of a few things she'd like to do before she let them kill me again. Like I said, irresistible to the opposite sex, and sometimes I wish I wasn't. I want someone to actually like me for who I am rather than just that face and body, but enough of my problems. Then she went on to gloat about how everything had gone OK with the "mission" she'd been asked to do - how it had all gone according to plan and that she had heard (and I quote) "the son of that bitch Calliope" was wishing he'd never been born because his girlfriend was dead as a doornail and couldn't be rescued again. She asked Aphrodite to get back to her about things and hung up. Now I know my nymphs ( no, not nymphos, just nymphs) and I know all about what Calliope had done - after all, she was why I spent two thirds of my time up here and only one third down there, so I was a bit intrigued as to what might have been going on here. I knew Aphrodite wasn't that keen on her, she'd wanted me up here the whole time, and that Ares was well pissed off because he wanted me down there the whole time - well, away from his other half anyway, which was why he'd killed me himself. Mr H wasn't too pleased either, because he'd wanted Lady P a bit more to himself - well, to start with, anyway, and Lady P had wanted me there more of the time, and one third wasn't really enough for her, so I knew she hadn't made any friends with the gods. It was a no-win situation for her, let's face it. But what was all this about her son and his girlfriend ? You could understand the revenge aspect of it, but who were they ? It didn't hit me at first, I just thought it was a bit odd, but then I asked around a bit, as you do, and found out that Calliope's son was called Orpheus. Not a common name, but there could be more than one, so I checked a bit more, and found out that it was that Orpheus, Eurydice's Orpheus. Then it really did hit me - something seriously dodgy had been going on, and because of it, Eurydice was really dead. That wasn't right, not in my book, so I decided it was time to find out what had really happened - do the detective bit - while keeping myself out of it, so that I could live to tell the tale as it were - when gods have got it in for you, they usually manage to get you eventually - the trick is to stay alive as long as possible and make them cheat. Something I didn't do very well myself, so I needed to do it for her - she hadn't got anyone else who knew enough to sort it out. Him ? Waste of time. Last thing I heard, he was off wandering in the north, Thrace or somewhere like that, playing sad songs to whoever would listen, and that he really, really had it in for women - telling blokes not to get involved with them - not exactly a smart move, in my opinion, only lead to trouble, but you could understand it - he was badly hurt by it all and didn't have the strength to fight any more. So it was down to me - and I knew something secret that could blow everything to bits. Now all I have to do is follow up the story and ask some questions - then I've got to decide what to do next.....

Tony finds something out

Couldn't stop thinking about Eurydice - it all seemed so unfair - yes, I know she was stupid to have done that deal with Mr H and pretend to be dead, but she didn't deserve what happened to her, not the way it did just when it all seemed to be going right. I had very bad feelings about what happened then, and did say something to Mr H about it, but he wasn't impressed - in fact he threatened to tell both of the women in my life that I'd actually had it off with her - and the problem was that I knew they'd believe him - they both know how women find me irresistible, and would believe any story about someone throwing themselves at me - and that just once in a while I might respond - and the fact that I'd spoken to Lady P about her to try and make sure she escaped would be seen as more evidence against me...so I backed off pretty quickly. He also made it abundantly clear that I was expected up top, as it were, for my annual appearance to keep the crops growing, and that saying any fond goodbyes to dead people would not be welcome, so I just got out of there before anything else happened. Felt bad that I'd not seen her before I went, but there wasn't a lot I could say - she was off my caseload anyway, so I couldn't really help. All I was hoping is that by the time I got back down there she'd come to terms with where she was and had let go a bit of that anger. A bit optimistic maybe, but time does that to most people in the end. Anyway, Aphrodite was really pleased to see me and things went pretty OK for a month or two, then, all of a sudden, I found something out that changed everything, something so big and so scary I just couldn't let it go - and it has major implications for several gods, for me and for Eurydice too. I'll tell you all about it next time - got to go now, before I get spotted talking to you.

Back to the story

You probably thought I'd never finish it - you might be right, but at least I'm going to start finishing the end or something like that. Had to re-read the last bit because it's been so long since I wrote it....seems Ok - so, deep breath and here we go. Been here a while now, seems like a very long time. That's the problem with being down here - time seems to move at a very different speed from up there. I tried a calendar, or even scratching lines on the wall to keep track, but days aren't days down here, which kind of throws it all out. There isn't any sunrise or sunset, it's all some kind of grey, like the sort of day when you know it's going to rain all day, but it never quite does. The only way you can work out that it's tomorrow is by going down to the ferry and looking at the passenger lists. They've all got a date and time on them - because they only give counselling to people for the first couple of weeks and so they know when people are ready to move out of Asphodel and on to wherever. I suppose you could say it's a bit like sleep deprivation - you don't actually get any - but that's because you're not really awake either - except the name of the game down here is life deprivation - the purpose of it is that after a while you start forgetting who you think you are, probably because you aren't them any more, and things kind of seem to be out of focus. They tried to explain it to me, during one of those marathon counselling sessions they still go in for - the "how to come to terms with never, ever, being alive again" ones that they seem to enjoy making me go through because I'm still playing hard to get, still trying to deny my lack of mortality - my demise, my departure from the land of the living, my inability to breathe, eat, sleep, do anything - my death, they call it. They keep reminding me not to have any expectations of things changing, but I'm still kicking - although I'm not alive. So why am I still holding out ? I can still remember how I ended up down here - the deal that went wrong and the failed rescue, and I'm still very, very, angry about it all. They tell me that's how you end up haunting places, being angry, but there isn't anywhere I want to haunt, or anyone either. I saw the look on his face as I was dragged screaming back down here, and it was the sort of face you don't want to ever see again - all hope gone, the light behind the eyes fading although he was still alive, the realisation that it was all down to him in the end and he'd failed me...it was too much to bear. Can't do action replays of that, no way, not at all. Maybe that's why I'm so angry - I'm so aware that I got myself into this mess to get at him, and it got at me - I became my own nemesis - and it serves me right. That's one hell of an anger to come to terms with. So what is he up to anyway ? I'm still allowed up there once in a while, just to see ( I think Mr H does it to torture me because I turned him down) and it's not that rosy for him either. I was worried that he'd get off with that cow next door, but he seems not to be in the least interested in her or in anybody else of the opposite sex - not even his music, it's all going wrong for him too. Last time he played anything, instead of charming the wild beasts, one of them came up and bit him. Quite nasty it was. Obviously lost his touch there too. She's tried throwing herself at him a couple of times, but he pointed out, firmly, gently and very, very, sadly that she was a married woman and that he thought her husband was expecting her to wait for him. After the second time it happened, I think she took the hint. She didn't look too pleased about it though. So Penny's off the menu. He seems to be sadder than I've ever known him - there's that empty look in his eyes, the thousand mile stare, I think they call it - someone who's seen something and felt something they wish they hadn't. Which indeed he has - plus he thought it would be easy to sort out, bringing me back, what with his powers and his half-godness - and it's all turned out wrong, and he blames himself. If only he hadn't showed off about charming snakes, or messed around with Penny, or turned round to look at that crucial moment, that's what's eating away at him - the what ifs, the if onlys and the why did I's - and none of them bring any comfort. I don't need to haunt him, he's there haunting himself. Which isn't what I want for him - at least he did try - and I think that if he knew the truth, what really happened, he might feel different about it - so I ask about telling him, in a dream as it were, what actually happened, but apparently I'm not allowed to. The rules ( surprise, surprise - as interpreted by Mr H, I reckon) don't allow that, it's "interfering with the living and their coping mechanisms for your dying in a way that's incompatible with being dead" they tell me, and now I really am dead, I'm having to comply a bit more than I did. They do have power over me down here - and it's miserable enough without making it unbearable. Apparently the only time I would be allowed to tell him is if he was going to top himself because of it - and then only after he'd started - you know, that bit when the whole of your life flashes before your eyes - that's when you can butt in, apparently, and point out it's not their fault - which might change their mind about dying - but whether they make it out alive or not depends on the method they've used to try to do it, and whether they can stop it somehow - and if they don't make it, you've just spilt the beans on what really happened, so when they do get down her they're not going to be happy about it, not at all - sounds more than a bit hit and miss if you ask me, too many chances of it all going wrong. Let's just hope he doesn't do anything like that. I'm sure Mr H would love telling me that he was - and he'd probably insist on me confessing, too, especially if it was pointless - he'd probably find something in the rule book that meant I had to. So back down here, I'm struggling to keep myself from going native with the dead people - every session with the counsellors pushes me closer to the edge of forgetting that I'm really still alive -I didn't really die - somebody cheated, and I shouldn't be here. I would say it was a gut reaction, but they aren't where I thought they'd be - I'm still making the jokes about PMs, althought they aren't really that funny any more. I just feel that it's not right and that someone will sort it all out - it's all been a big mistake and all that. Tony's not been around for a while - he got sent back up to be killed again ( like he does every year) not long after the rescue went wrong, so he's up there having a great time messing about with Aphrodite, waiting for the right time of year, and because of that Lady P down here is miserable as sin. I reckon there's still a few months to go, too. All comes down to pomegranates in the end, but I'm not saying that to her, well, not to her face anyway. As for the DRC, the club I wanted to set up, most of them have moved on to the Fields already, wimps, none of them got the persistence to hang around in Asphodel and kick against it. So that's it from me for now, I'll let you know any developments - assuming there are some. I've nicked the counsellors' guidebook and scripts, so maybe I'll tell you more about them next time....

So what happens next ? The Dead Rebels Club?

So blackness again - and this time, when I come out of it, I somehow know that it's done with. Life, that is. Had my chance to escape, and blew it - or he did it for me. Why did it have to be wasps? Everybody knows I hate them and that I'm bound to react the way I did. Especially a certain god down here - can't help thinking he had something - well, more than something actually - to do with it. This idea is kind of supported by the fact that he turns up again just after I come round, saying "so you do know what it is then, buzz, buzz - shame about the sting - never mind, you'll soon get used to it down here" in that stupid voice he used the first time. I want to knock his stupid head off, ram his teeth down his throat and so on, but something stops me - the knowledge that he's in charge down here and it wouldn't be smart to piss him off too much in case he really does get nasty, because that could mean Tartarus or worse for me. Looks like I've got to settle down to being a nice happy dead person and prepare myself for a life ( well, not really, but it's the only way I can describe it) of excitement - like waiting to see who's died this week and taking long walks in the fields or doing nothing much, just wandering around like a ghost. Great. I always wanted to do that. The Bereavement Counsellors have come back too - this time, because there's no chance of a rescue, they seem to be a bit more aggressive - telling me that my first death set rather a bad example and that I've got to sort myself out and really make death my friend this time. Bastards. I still feel the same - cheated and betrayed by people I trusted - and I want to kick and scream and tell them where to go, but, once again, something stops me. Same worry - if I really annoy them, they can make my life hell - and this time I can't get away from them. So I say sorry, that I didn't think I was really dead last time, that's why I behaved like that and can we start again ? Clean slate ? They seem to be really pleased with that answer, tell me it's nice to see I've finally come to terms with my death and give me some more helpful advice about how to join the Elysian club, whihc it would seem, is the most fun you can have round here. Apparently it beats the hell out of mindless wandering, low-pitched moaning and staring into space which is all a lot of dead people get to do. So I ask what the benefits are, and they tell me that you go for long walks, have the chance to look at things and chat about them with other dead people. Can't see the difference myself, but they obviously can, so I won't argue with them about it, just put my name on the list. They leave me with a really helpful book - "One hundred things you didn't know dead people can do". I read it. The title wasn't quite right - it was more like five things dead people can do, in twenty different ways and places. Oddly enough, mindless wandering, moaning and staring into space were three of the five - although they didn't say that in so many words, but "non-directed perambulation", "vocalisation pitched below the treble register" and "spatially directed visualisation" seem the same to me, just dressed up as things you might like to do. No way do I want to do any of them. Ever. So now what do I do - I'm really dead and there's no second chance of being rescued. What am I going to do? I still feel like I'm alive, in the wrong place and all that, but how long can I hold out ? Just had a thought - maybe I could start a Dead Rebels Club - for people who were really pissed off about being dead and who need to have somewhere to escape the boredom - people who want to disrupt the cosy world of deadness and stir things up a bit. I check up with the rule book I was given ( again) and it doesn't say you can't, just that you can't take the arguments up there or down into the Fields because it would give the wrong impression. Well, maybe I'll play ball, or maybe I won't. So I decide I'm going to advertise for members for the Club - I need a good few to make it all worth while, and each of them must have a story to tell - I reckon some of these stories will be a bit off, but at least what counts for their heart is in the right place. Which from my experience means it will have been put back somewhere other than where it came from. As I said earlier, that tends to be what post-mortems do for you. Anyway, once the club is is up and running we'll shake things up a bit down here!!

Nearly - so close but yet

So there we are, on the ferry. His family cabaret deal with the ferryman seems to have held - they exchange contact details so that he can set it up for later- and after a little while we're on the opposite bank. Because we're going the opposite way out, you have to push through the crowds of people waiting to go in, who all seem to be saying that they thought the road only went one way, and they do have a point, I suppose. But if you ignore the one-way and no entry signs, and start walking uphill, you can just about catch a glimpse of something real, something that ripples on the walls and shimmers - daylight, sunshine, the real world, a place dead people don't live ( yes I know that doesn't make sense as a phrase, but you know what I mean) and that's where I want to get back to - I don't belong down here at all. He's walking about four or five steps ahead of me, facing the front, making it very obvious that he's not looking any way but ahead. One problem for me - seeing as how I haven't actually got my body back yet, I'm kind of taking it on trust that I will look the same as I did before I died - not after that post-mortem - there would be really visible scars that just wouldn't look right up there. Then there's the question of what I'm wearing. When I asked, they said it was the clothes you wore at your funeral, but these things I've got on my feet don't feel like Jimmy Choos at all - I'd better have them on when I do finally get up there or someone's going to pay big style. Same with the hairstyle and makeup. I hated how I looked at my funeral, so I asked about it and they said I could request a specialist pre-return to life session to get those bits right. Let's just hope they did - I certainly wouldn't want to re-enter the world of the living looking like a hag or worse. You're probably wondering who I asked - it wasn't the Guardians of Death, it was a little organisation called "Getting Your LIfe Back" - they don't have many clients, about one every thousand years they reckon, so it's probably a good job that they're dead - they wouldn't live long enough to do more than one client otherwise. If you'll pardon me, a real dead-end job, waiting all that time for someone to show up and then after a couple of sessions, its all done and dusted. So you can see what my priorities are - I want to be drop-dead gorgeous when I get back up there- and there are a few people I wouldn't mind seeing drop dead when I get back there. I won't give you any clues, but you probably get my drift....is it that obvious ? So there we are, half way up the slope, that glow getting a bit brighter all the time and I can feel my body coming back - just a bit at a time. It's kind of hard to describe - one minute you can't feel anything, the next there's a sort of pins and needles tingle starting deep inside and you know it's working. When I move my arm, I can feel the air - so I reach up and touch my own face and I can feel something - this is really amazing. It's the best feeling I think I've ever had - bar none - well, coming back from the dead must kind of overshadow most experiences, mustn't it ? I look down and I can see my own feet and the shoes start feeling like the real thing - and they look right too. He's walking just ahead of me, keeping his eyes straight ahead, and he's ignoring all the noises behind him - the roars of demons, the screeches of harpies - and not looking back to check that I'm OK at all. We're getting even closer now, and I can feel the breeze on my face and in my hair, and the sunlight's beginning to feel warm too. Not much further now and I'm back. Then it happens. The nightmare. The end of all my hopes. The bastards. Them and him down here. I've just gone past this rock on the right hand side of the tunnel when there's this horrible whining, buzzing sound. I have a horrible feeling that I know what it is - and what's worse, who put them there. I can't prove it, but I don't honestly think wasps would normally make a nest in the tunnel that leads to the underworld. At least, not off their own bat, that is - someone must have put them up to it. Can't think who that could be - other than someone who knows a lot about me and what I hate ! So as he goes past, a couple of them fly out and whizz round his head a few times. He tries to whack them with his hands, to knock them out of the way, but he misses. Don't know whether they sting him or not, he carries on regardless. So far, so good. But then it's my turn - only it's not a couple, it's the whole f****ing nest of them. They come out of there like an express train and within seconds they're in my hair, all over my face, on my arms - you name it, they're there. I'm trying my hardest not to freak out, because, as you know, I hate them so much - so I'm trying not to yell and scream and attract attention - trying not to give him any reason to turn and look back. Please don't let that happen, please- I can hear myself saying it - we're so close now It wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't got most of my body and my feelings back - they wouldn't be able to touch me, or, if they did, I wouldn't notice, but I'm nearly all together again. So when one of them stings me, I can feel it. It hurts. Then when the other fifty or so all sting me at once, I don't really have any choice - I scream really loud. "Ow, Get away from me" And that's when it happened. Like a slow-motion replay, you could see the scream register- he froze, paused, then, an inch at a time, you could see his head turn to look - I was fighting with the wasps too, so I didn't have the chance to shout to him not to do it, but when I did it was hopeless - he just kep turning and then I could see his eyes and I knew it was too late. All over. Finished. The gentle breeze I could feel on my skin, the breeze that had promised so much, suddenly turned into a hurricane and blew me back down the tunnel so fast my feet didn't touch the ground until I was across the river. The light, that glow from the world above the ground, that hope for a future, grew ragged and turned into grey and black shadows, shrieking and wailing on the wind as it span into a web of darkness. All I could remember was the look on his face as I disappeared - he looked so lost, so beaten, so despairing, in fact he looked the same as quite a few of the people down here - the really dead ones, that is. And then there was blackness, just like the first time, only this time it felt like a relief, like it was all over, like it was time to give up and be dead. That's it. the end Well maybe

So how does he do it ?

So as soon as I get out of the room it's like someone has turned the lights on (or off, depending on how you see it) and it all shifts back into perspective - and I wonder what exactly is going on - there must be something about being in the same room as him that makes you think like that. Yes I know he's really incredibly cute and fanciable but (a) he's spoken for - and given who she is, when she speaks, it stays spoken, believe me! And (b) I am ( well I was before I died, anyway) engaged to someone up there who is, even as we speak, heading down here to rescue me. Or so it would appear. So I'm spoken for too, really. And finally, (c) there's definitely something odd about a bloke who can make you feel like I did when he's there, wanting to run away with him and forget everything and then you find it wears off when he isn't. A very odd feeling, that one. Like being hypnotised. So it's probably a good idea to keep away. Only problem is, I've arranged to meet him later to talk about things. Can't really cancel, might offend him - so I guess we'll just have to see how it goes. I've gone from confident about what I want to scared about what might go wrong - and all in about five minutes. Don't like that feeling, not at all. So what do I do now? I know everyone thinks I'm fickle and superficial - well I do kind of give that impression - but deep down I'm not really like that, it just doesn't suit me to let people think they can control what I do - I've got to be in control enough to feel that I can make my own decisions. Yes I know that my decision making hasn't exactly worked out as I hoped - otherwise I wouldn't be down here, but sometimes things don't quite go according to plan. So, what do I do ? Do I stay faithful to him up there or do I try for something more with Tony? He hasn't been faithful to me, I know that, but I'm feeling all confused about what I should do next. I'm also not sure what Tony wants, either. He might just be interested in my mind. Or he might be a bit of a git and be after another notch on his bedpost. I usually play things by ear, go with the flow, no big plans, but I'm not sure that'll work down here. And it's getting closer to decision time every minute. Now I've only got 25 of them to go - and it will take me at least 15 of those to decide what I want to look like, and that will depend on what I want to get out of it. Maybe I should toss a coin. No shortage of those, everyone who comes down here has got one to pay for the ferry (usually covered in spit, so a bit gross) and all that Charon does with them is chuck them onto the bank. Well, there's nothing down here to spend it on, so there's no point in him hanging on to them, is there ? Plus why would anyone want to hang on to coins that are all slippery with spit, snot, whatever - not exactly fun is it. So I go and pick one up, wash it, and say heads I wait for him up there, tails I make a play for him down here. Hmmm. Tails. So I say best of three. OK heads this time. 1 each. Here we go. Tails again. Best of five ? I think I've decided what I want - but the coin seems to keep saying something else every time. Heads again - 2 each and now it's really decision time - wait for it - Tails. Can't really go for best of 7, even if it's telling me to do something I don't want to do, it just seems that down here I don't have that much choice. So I'd better just get on with it. A bit half-hearted, though. Better go and get ready.