AN OFFER FROM HADES

BY TOM VAN GEMERT

As Mr. Edmond Gullion, obituary writer, stepped out of the rear entrance to the Boston Herald, he was conscious of the first crisp air of Autumn. Adjusting a felt hat over his grey head, he walked leisurely down the alley way to the street beyond. Brown, stiff leaves scratched along the gutter as he lifted his wrist to peer at the time under a street lamp. He watched the swinging shadow of his briefcase stretch out as he walked away from the light and wondered what kind of late night dinner would be ready for him when he got home. As he turned the corner onto Grove street he began to notice how emptier the streets were than usual.

As he was passing by one of the benches along the low stone wall a low chuckling rang out and, startled, he turned his head to see who emitted the sound. Beneath an overhanging willow he could make out what appeared to be a homeless man, reading from one of the pages of newspaper that covered him. Edmond nodded slightly and continued walking before he heard a firm, distinct voice.

“You do good work, Edmond.”

His shoes scuffed the cement as he halted and turned back around. The figure hadn’t moved but he heard the same rhythmic chuckling as before and a page rustle. He stepped closer but couldn’t see a face for the paper was held in front of it. After standing there for a moment, he at last interupted the sniggering.

“Do I know you?”

“No, but you soon shall,” responded the same crystalline voice as before. The page lowered to reveal murky eyes over a thin beard. From the smiling white teeth came more words: “Please allow me to introduce myself.”

The papers fluttered to the sidewalk as he stood up, revealing a tall slender frame. His clothes were soiled and torn yet his pale skin and slicked back hair was clean. The tip of his head brushed the dead hanging leaves and he put forth his hand.

“I am Hadrian Dremskell, minion of the master below.”

Edmond’s mouth parted slightly and he stared at the long fingernails for a moment before he slowly offered his own hand to the tall stranger. The slender fingers were as cold as isicles and Edmond rubbed his hands together after the exchange as Dremskell continued: “I have been sent by his lordship to bestow upon you a wonderful opportunity.”

“Who sent you?” Edmond studdered.

“Lord of Hades. His majesty admires your work. He is offering you a chance before your death to join....”

“My death?” Edmond blurted, his eyes widening even further.

“Oh, yes, I am sorry to inform you of this Edmond, but you are to die tommorow night in your sleep.”

Edmonds leather briefcase plopped to the ground and he reflexively snatched it up again with fumbling hands.

“As I was saying,” Dremskell continued, “His lordship is offering you a chance before your death to join the land of Hades as our honorable incoming announcer. This denotes that you shall have bestowed upon you the duty of introducing to the underworld all of its arriving members and the delightfully terrible deeds that they have done.”

Edmond just stood there holding his briefcase to his stomach, not blinking.

Dremskell flashed a grin, “Incoming announcer is a very noble position in the underworld. It would be considered ludicrous to not take this wonderful opportunity.”

“What happens if I don’t?” sputtered Edmond with a rumple in his brow as if he didn’t recognize his own voice.

“Well then you would go to heaven.”

“Oh.” Edmonds nose wrinkled, revealing his slightly grey teeth.

“But it doesn’t even compare,” Dremskell quickly added “to what his lordship is offering you. Why be a person of little importance in heaven when you can be a distinguished minion of Hades. You will dine with the master himself. And let me assure you that Hades is nothing like what the living make it out to be. It is more cold than it is hot and there is much water and rolling grey fog but words alone can’t do enough justice. You’ll have to see the place for yourself. But I assure you that it will not be disappointing. Once you get used to navigating a skiff, you will find it most agreeable.

Edmond blinked and broke his gaze with the messenger but then looked up again when he said “I will give you a day to think about this offer. I will meet you here at the same time tommorow for your decision.”

Edmond nodded and turning, walked rapidly to the next corner, and only when he had crossed the street did he look back to see to his surprise, that the figure was back to laying down on the bench again with newspaper raised.

The smell of roast beef and pressure cooked beats met his nostrils as he entered his one-story brick home. Cleatis, his wife, adjusted her apron and hugged him as he walked into the kitchen but then moved back from his shoulders and looked at his face.

“Edmond you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, “What happened?”

“Oh nothing, I’m just starved that’s all,” he answered lifting the lid of the pot.

But when the steaming food was heaped on a plate in front of him, he only ate a few mouthfuls and then stared at his gravy as he stirred it slowly with a fork.

“What do you think hell is like?” he asked Cleatis who had been looking up every now and then at his plate, eyeing him peculiarly.

“I imagine it isn’t a very nice place. And I think you’ll be going there if you let all that food on your plate go to waste.”

“But how can you know?”

Cleatis opened her mouth to answer when the telephone rang and she tossed her napkin down on the table and scuttled into the living room. Edmond went back to stirring his gravy.

“You weren’t looking at the yearbooks and your trophies that whole time were you?” she asked later that night as he walked into the bedroom. She adjusted one of the rollers in her dark orange hair and turned the page of a book.

Edmond began putting on his blue silk pajamas. “Remember the game against Dorchester? I only gave up two hits. I was a hero for at least a week. Remember that?”

“You’ve been acting so strange all night. First you.....”

“Why do we still have that cross on the wall?” he interrupted, sitting on the bed, “We never go to church anymore.”

Cleatis closed her book and observed his unfocused gaze at the cross. “Edmond, tell me what you’re thinking.”

He stared at the cross for a while longer and then looked at her and smiled.

“Oh nothing. You told me once that you use to shop-lift didn’t you?”

“Edmond!” she cried. “What has gotten into you? Yes I used to do that but that was years ago. I’m going to sleep now and in the morning if you aren’t the same Edmond that I married, I’m going to start thinking about calling the funny farm that Mr. Cokkinos across the street went to.”

“Oh Cleatis doll you don’t have to do that. I’m just fine.”

She clicked off the lamp and Edmond sat there staring into the darkness. Once he heard her steady breathing he got out of bed, put on his clothes, and stepped out onto his front porch. Sitting there on the bench swing, he contemplated the moon and stars until dawn.

The next night after work, Edmond found Dremskell at the same spot only this time he wore a long cloak instead of torn rags. He sat on the bench with his leg crossed wide and a hand resting on one of the shiny black knee length boots on his feet. Not a car nor person could be seen down the entire length of the darkened street. Everything was still and silent, even the dead leaves.

“Edmond what have you decided?” where his first words.

Edmond fidgeted with his briefcase and adjusted his hat. “I appreciate your offer to be the announcer of.....your world and feel very honored......but.....”

The minion frowned at this point and upon seeing this, Edmond began scratching the back of his neck and looking down, continued: “But I will have to respectfully decline and hope that you will understand.”

“Fool!” shouted Dremskell, rising and standing over him, “How can you not accept an offer from the Lord? There are men who would die many torturous deaths just to be in His Majesty’s presence for a brief moment! Do you have any idea of how grand the opportunity is that you are simply throwing away?”

Edmond stopped flinching and after a stutter, managed: “I am sorry but I have made my decision and it is final.”

“Very well. You will most definitely regret this choice and may your life in heaven be as dull as your life on earth.” And with that, Dremskell turned on the thin heel of his boot and leaping over the wall, seemed to liquidate into the obscurity of the trees.

When he got home, Edmond embraced his wife and talked to her for hours on the front porch swing as they watched the stars grow bright in the sky. Later, when it was time for bed, he told her that he loved her, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

Back To Collected Stories                       E-mail comments about the story