Four letters from Hades

7 December 2013

Dear Adam,

It has been nine months since we’ve last seen each other, that dreadful day where all began. Even before that day you were sensing the change in the air, you were seeing the signs and although you insisted I hadn’t actually believed you.

Now, staying at this hole which people call it shelter - but to me it’s like a coffin for living souls- I have so much time to feed the worm inside my brain with guilt, regret, sadness and madness, until it will eat it all. You’ve always told me to stay strong and never fear anyone or anything but right now, day by day, to stay true in all my promises; is getting more and more difficult.

Here, at this shelter, five hundred people are crowed in a lifeless maze, one hundred feet underground, all exhausted from, internal and external wounds and above all pure and oppressive horror. Here, where the sounds of pain and mourning pause only at the time when we try to find a sample of life outside through an old radio and we all treasure its existence like Savior himself. Here, where death dances along with hope and rational and irrational thoughts are mixed up in a shaker that no one knows who shakes it.   

Time is not on our side, as a gigantic anagogic device reminds us all of how little time we have. Do you remember the telephone we used back in our childhood? Well, multiply this a hundred times and you will understand what I’m talking about. But despite our sweet memories from back then, this device works on a different way. Up until now, in the dark nights where we all tried to keep ourselves warm, the dim light coming out of each number was a reminder that we weren’t dead yet , but this light in one night became from hope to despair. Yesterday, the light of number one just turned off and we all knew that since the other numbers were still on, it was not something wrong with the mechanism. We all suspect that is something like a countdown, but to what, we don’t have a clue .it’s like a reverse countdown from one to nine which finally leads to zero again and you know better than me that the odds of something good to happen are not on our favor these days.

Writing to you is an act of purification for me, it’s like you are standing next to me, holding me and whispering reassuring words to my ear.

 Goodnight my love.

Your Eve.