Wish and destiny, all the same

Rowing, all day rowing, it’s such a bliss.
Whistling some tunes, ignoring the screams of the damned.
It’s good to be the one who has to ferry the dead over this river.
It’s quite fulfilling.
I wished, from day one, to become a story teller.
Probably becomes mother has quite a strong hold over stories, after all, stories are best told at night.
At the same time, at birth I was chosen for this duty.
It was shown that I would be able to do a good job, so I never complained.
But to be honest, sometimes is tiring.
Especially when you do it thousands if not more times a day, all at the same time…
And when younglings come.
Few are more aware of the fact that when someone’s time has come, it is inevitable, than I am.
But seeing them all lost, with so much potential in them…it’s bothering.
And let’s not even mention the babies…
Thankfully, their souls are so pure, innocent, and untainted, that they instantly enter either Elysium or reincarnate.
So I don’t have to see them…otherwise, I don’t know if I could have done my job for this long.
Back to the story telling, which is my wish, and my duty of ferrying the souls.
They are complementary.
I am distracting the poor lost ones with stories of old, of new and even present (perks of being connected to Thanatos and the Fates), and I try to lessen their pain.
Of course, it is impossible to make them completely forget their lives (unless they fall into the river), but I try to make their demise…bearable.
I am fulfilling both my wish and my duty at the same time.
And yet…
I don’t know…it feels suffocating from time to time.
I guess mortals call this burnout?
As I was musing over this…semi-existential crisis, a voice awakened me.
“Sir? Where am I?”
It asked.
Looking up, I saw a youngling’s soul.
It was almost corporeal, so it must have been a strong-willed individual when alive.
“Welcome to the next step of your…life.”
I said.
“So…I am dead?”
It asked.
“Yes, but don’t worry, you aren’t the first one.”
I chuckled, ushering it onto my boat, and I started to row.
“Will I suffer? Will I remember things? What will happen?”
It asked.
“You won’t suffer, otherwise your soul would look a bit different.
Also, remembering things, and seeing how things will go from now on, is not under my jurisdiction, but that of the judges and Hades.
Well, Hades, or any other Afterlife god you worshiped or believed in.
The Afterlife is quite malleable.”
I said.
“Who are you?”
It asked.
“My name is Charon, and over this journey, I will be thy guide.
Want to hear a story about the days when Night ruled over existence, and Day was not yet born?”
I asked.
The soul said nothing, but I could feel its gaze, so I started to tell the stories so many have listened to, and calmed down to…