Eurydice: Down past the Gates of Hell, amongst my companions in the shroud, I’ve been swirling my tongue to the tunes of your lyre. I hear them, distinct as ever. Nothing else moves, Orpheus. Is this not hell? The dead have been nagging me lately, they ask me why the son of a God has been unable to raise me. I have no answers. I wonder how this is any different from having loved a man. Perhaps a man would have listened. Now that I think about it, you did little else but play your own tunes. You drowned the entire world in them, nobody could resist your charm. In death, I am able to understand that what I felt was not love but a mere enchantment, one that is hardly different from what is felt by your spectators. It was unfair, what you did. You were like every other god, a narcissist. So now, when the angels of death tell me that Orpheus wanders the earth playing notes of dread, I no longer wallow in pity, I just laugh. Orpheus: I am no man who listens, I know and beloved, I admit that I’m not well versed in your death as yet. It smells fresh to me. I gather it is increasingly cold where you are, my informants tell me the heart of Hades remains frozen beyond measure. I must tell you my mind is occupied with all kinds of ideas to keep you warm but I tell myself there are bigger problems to attend to. I promise you I have done more than just play music. My father and I have recently had an audience, he thunders plots of rescue the fire of hell is no match for. You lay patient, stay still and continue to dance your tongue to my tunes for it still remembers what it feels like to be alive! Eurydice: Orpheus, hell freezes under and over. Bones crackle and my lips are but dust, this tongue too has fallen onto the sheets of hell. It has shrunken and turned crisp, it knows neither your rhyme nor your rhythm. I tire of your promises, your tunes, and it is then that I know the touch of Hades grows upon us! Orpheus: Eurydice, a few words of caution are the only distance between us. You might think it wise to pick the frost off your tresses now. I descend upon the underworld with the protection of the Gods and the thunder of Apollo with lyre in hand and sweet melody in my heart. Love, I play for you only, but it is Hades who is my intended audience for tonight. He sways with Persephone in arm, his armour stowed away as his heart melts to my choir. You thought it unfair my love that I should vow all my spectators with similar delight but now you know how true intentions manifest themselves. My music treads along the paths of hell with such softness, the snow here is without tracks. It knows not of the existence of our ploys. Hades has surrendered, he allows me to walk you out of this place if I promise not to look back. I am no god right now for I am foolishly tempted to ensure his honesty. I hope it does not get the better of me. Eurydice: You walk unsteadily, I can feel the doubt grow in your heart. Orpheus, you need to stop listening for my footsteps. Instead, focus on being able to walk me out of here. We’re almost near the veil when you halt, chin down and begin to turn, and it is then that Hades taps on my shoulder. I weaken to a wispy nothingness, you must have faltered. Alas, god or no god, we all suffer from a lack of conviction! The author is a law graduate and an aspiring novelist who enjoys her coffee a little too much for her own good. She can be reached at nayyabsarwar@gmail.com Published in Daily Times, January 1st 2018.