Vale Perilous

We passed what was believed to be the gate of hell

And we felt shattered by the disturbing silence.

We were far from any place we called home,

The Greek and I.

There was no light, reaching this forsaken ground,

Except the one from our torches

Under the stoned lava, lay the bones of those before us,

Recounting the darkness of this place.  

We couldn’t see much, we couldn’t hear anything.

We were just guessing our way.

We were guided by our instincts and fear,

None of our other senses worked.

We reached, what used to be a crossroad

Left and right it looked the same

Ahead of us narrowed, by some sliding of the rocks.

It was then, that I lost any expectation.

We had to decide, which way to go

And so, we did.

The Greek kept his faith

And I made a pact.*

I kept walking, without looking back

Straight, I followed the narrow path.

Then I heard and later saw, an ancient spring

And the first sunrays reached my eyes, from some small cracks.

And so, I lived, I made it out

But the Greek, he stayed inside

He would die from hunger and thirst,

And I would live for five more years.



* It is believed that in some crossroads, a deal (a pact) with the devil can be made. The legend says that if you stand in the middle of the crossroad and you call the devil, he will appear and give you anything you ask. In return, he will come after some years to collect your soul.