Freed by Death

      I grimaced as the splinters and blisters in my hand pressed against the wooden oar with each stroke. Our Greek overseer looked over us with his narrow, ferret-like face, his beady eyes glinting cruelly in the scarce light of the lower deck.  
      The only sound one could hear were the grunts and pathetic whimpers of the other galley-slaves, and the clinking of chains, all slowly being drowned out by the ever prevalent sound of the hull groaning and creaking in protest as it was tossed about in the waves.  
      The trapdoor leading out topside burst open and Odysseus, taking the steps two at a time, leapt below decks startling slave and slavemaster alike.  
      “Euchalyses!” Odysseus barked, “Get all the slaves on deck! Scylla is hungry and if there are more men for her to choose from we're less likely to be lunch.”  
      “But sir,” the Greek stammered, “who will man the oars? We’ll be stuck on the water.”  
      Odysseus grimaced before responding.  
      “Firstly, we have sails specifically for that purpose, you bumbling idiot. Secondly, if you don’t follow my orders then being stuck on the water will be the last thing you have to worry about.”  
      The taskmaster paled. “Y-yessir. Right away, sir.” He assured the captain quickly. With a curt nod the captain stormed out onto the squalling deck. The pointed taskmaster turned to us, and quickly regained his composure. Wouldn’t want to look weak in front of the slaves would we? I smiled. Too late, I thought. He noticed my silly grin and with a snarl lashed me with his whip. The leather was soft enough not to leave any lasting damage, but still hurt like a hydra bite.  
      “You heard him! All hands on deck!” he shrieked with a voice to make even the slaves with no ears wince in pain. We all filed out in our chained rows onto the slippery rain soaked deck. It was then that I saw my chance to escape. Everyone’s attention was focused on the looming cliffs and the demonic shape atop them, their eyes wide with fear. But I was too focused to care about whether some monster ate a few cowardly old men. I needed to get off this galley and into the sea, away from these slavers. But how to get out of these chains…  
      Then it hit me: splinters. I dug my fingers into one of the many blisters on my hand and pulled a long shard of wood from my flesh. I slipped it into the lock on my manacles and pushed the tumblers this way and that before the lock finally gave way with a click. As the chains slid to the deck I ran to the rail of the doomed ship with an energy I hadn’t felt since the fall of Troy. Just as I reached the edge, however, Scylla had picked her first victim.  
      Me.  
      As the beast lifted me up into the air I could see the crew hadn’t even noticed my near escape. I felt the beast’s powerful jaws around my chest, my ribs cracking with the pressure. I tasted blood as it bit down and soon felt another set of jaws on my legs pulling. First searing pain, then a pop as my legs came clear off.  
      Then all the pain disappeared and my world faded to black.  
      I cannot say where I awoke, or even if I awoke at all. My soul was in an empty nothingness that stretched for all eternity It turns out the Greeks were wrong. There is no real afterlife. Just floating in this empty void. Not oblivion... no I was too aware for my soul to have been destroyed. But this was somehow... worse.