I don’t know where I am.

Or how I got here.

But as I look down, I see I am bound to a metal chair. Iron bonds are clasped around my wrists, making it impossible to move. I squirm in the chair, trying my best to force the bonds off my hands, but it is impossible. I am trapped.

I can’t see anything. Just black.

I hope my eyes will adjust to it soon.

Suddenly , the feeling of my situation dawns on me. Panic rises inside me. Fear crashes down on my shoulders. My own scream fades in my throat, just a sound in the darkness.

Is this death?

It can’t be. If I am dead, how am I still conscious? Aware of my existence, my situation? It is not like I have lost all knowledge- images and sounds rush through my mind. Places, animals, plants. I see snow capped mountains, raging volcanos, peaceful meadows. I see animals; tigers and lions, bears, giraffes, sharks. Eating a hamburger. But it is impossible for me to recall one person I know. Impossible.

Frustration and anger builds up inside me and I want to throw something. But there is nothing to throw. NOTHING.

I hate this feeling. This feeling of hopelessness, of sheer lonliness and solitude. I am trapped, locked up, alone. No one can help me now. I hear a sound. The pattering of feet. As I look up, I see a bright light. it is a torch. It looks a bit like a flickering fire. The hand holding the fie torch like thing belongs to someone I have never seen before. It is a man. He has bulging muscles and a long gray beard. His coal black eyes burn into mine, sending a shiver down my spine.

Then come the questions. They are endless. I don’t know what to ask first. Finally I decide on a question: probably the most important of all.

“Where am I?”

The man doesn’t respond, just looks at me.

“I don’t understand,”I say. “Where am I?”

“You are about to enter the Underworld,” he says.

The underworld? What’s the Underworld? Then I realise I don’t care. All I care about are answers. Proper answers.

“What is the underworld and why can’t I remember anything?!”

“The Underworld…you’ll know when you get there. And the reason you have lost your memories is because you are dead. The memory wipe happens immedietly after you die, and you are put here until it has completely worked.”

“Oh. I thought so,” I say. “Is that a torch?” I point at the glowing pointed thing in his hand. It has two sharp tips.

“It is a brident. I, Hades, God of The Underworld, own this brident and I will guide you into the underworld.”

“Do you”-

“No more questions. It is time.”

Suddenly, I feel my bonds melt away. I rise from the chair and Hades takes my hand. And then I walk into the light.