Day 103 Ruminating And Writing

Cerberus

It had been a mistake. It had to have been. He didn’t belong in the underworld. He wasn’t supposed to die yet. Not in his twenties. Not when he had so much to do and see. Not by tripping over his own feet. That was the worst part. He had explained several times to the other dead how he had died, and he couldn’t take the snickers any longer. Now he kept his mouth shut.

He had heard a rumor that you could escape the miserable landscape of the underworld, where nothing felt, tasted, ...