Driftwood On the Styx

Three misfits sought mischief along serenity shore when a boatman slashed through the bluing mist with driftwood oars honed by a river called Styx. They were wild and naive and looked quite aghast for boatmen usually gather the worn and the weak but the misfits were young and strong as teak trees. The boatman anchored a skull and clawed up the bank three clocks ridden by ravens appeared in the sky the misfits ran amok when their time finally arrived. The boatman sat in a dark crag and fingered them near the mischievous three pleaded in gossamer tongues but death is beyond stone deaf and heard not a one. The boatman did show his heart, but of Sulphur it smelled gently placing each misfit in a boat made of flesh and bone vultures hopped the damned in their new dead water home.