• Through the mist they went, Arthur astounded by the vividness of the world around him. He was quite sure he should have died from his fatal blow to the head, but the eerie forest and mist seemed all too real: the smell of water in the air, the moisture clinging to his skin. But what confused him most were his footsteps. It was the only sound in the surrounding environment that existed. Not even the three women (queens as the claimed) made a noise as they led him through the fog. Arthur pondered whether he was truly dead and concluded that he wasn’t, otherwise he shouldn’t make a noise either. However, he was terribly wrong as he was about to find out.
    The queens stopped suddenly and one held out her arm to keep Arthur behind them. Arthur heard a faint creak in the distance, followed by a louder one, and an even louder one. He listened carefully and made out the sound of water being stroked. He looked at the ground in front of them and saw nothing. He then realized that the rocky earth they had been walking on came to a sudden halt at the edge of a very long river. A man appeared vaguely through the mist, and Arthur squinted to see him, confused as to why he was rowing so high above the surface of the water. Then the bow of his boat came into sight and Arthur stood in awe as the raggedy ship eased at the edge of the river. The man helped the queens onboard and extended his hand to Arthur. He reached to take it, but was swatted away. “You are required to pay first,” he said, coldly.
    “Pay? But how can I possibly bring money with me if I am truly dead? Is this not the path to Heaven?”
    One of the queens stepped in and handed the rower a coin. “Calm your temper. He is not of Greek origin.”
    “How unfortunate,” the man muttered. Arthur grabbed the top of the ridge and the man hauled him in by the collar. For more lengthy hours, the man rowed and rowed. Arthur desired greatly to close his eyes and sleep the way, but his lack of mortality gave him no such luxury. As Arthur began to contemplate what Heaven would be like, or if he was going to Heaven at all, what his eternal home would be.
    He heard thumping under the boat and jumped, looking around. He pondered looking over the edge of the boat, but first looked to the queens and the man for some confirmation that he wasn’t just hearing things. He assumed he was and returned to his previous position, while the thumping continued as they drifted through the mist. Arthur grew impatient and walked over to the queens. At that moment, the ship finally broke through the fog, and Arthur nearly fell back at the sight of where they were.
    The setting was remarkably swampy, with bubbles popping at the surface of the mucky water and releasing a noxious gas that Arthur could not escape from, even after lifting his shirt to cover his face. Mossy vines hung in large groups on branches, and there appeared to be shallow paths of water leading up to a large wall in the distance that drooped on itself. The boat stopped, and the man urged Arthur off the boat as the queens helped him. Arthur stood in place, scanning the new, unwelcoming home.
    As the boat left back down the river, Arthur looked closely at the water and saw hands reaching out and lightly hitting the hull. He panned towards the wall off in the distance and noticed the naked souls of deceased men and women engorged in the mucky water, trapped as they moaned and attempted to escape. The queens paid no attention to the misery around them and walked forward with Arthur close in hand. “This is your new home,” one queen said. “The judges of Avalon will determine your fate here.”