Chapter Text
You don’t remember. You can’t remember. But you don’t need to remember. Not in Hadestown, you already have everything you need. But what do you need? It’s a question that’s been needling at your foggy mind. It food, not water, not sleep. Hades would say you just need your hammer and chisel. But you’re suddenly not so sure.
There are ideas in you, concepts. Time. Memory. Rest. Hope. Aspirations. Love. You don’t know what any of them mean anymore.
You’re sure there’s something big missing. A name. What was your name? You have to find out wh- No! That’s a distraction. The only thing that matters is the stone between your hands, and then the air that replaces it when you lay down the stone, then your hammer when you secure it to the wall.
Lift. Set. Swing. Lift. Set. Swing. Over and over and over. Wall. Mine. Hades. Safe. Free. Happy. That is the tune to which you work, the chant of your endless labor.
You hear…something. Something new. Not the swing of hammers or the rattling mine-cart. It’s a note, clear, bright. A note and then two. A song. “La la la la la la la.” And suddenly your want to sing along you want to lay your hammer down and stand up tall and…No. Foolish. There is no voice. There is never any song in Hadestown but the train’s whistle.
Lift. Set. Swing. And then there it is again. “La la la la la la.” This time it’s louder. The voice is so close, and so beautiful
You remember. The spring’s breeze, winter’s chill. The cold water in the wading stream. A laugh. Not yours, but hers. Your sister’s. You left her on exchange for a ticket to hell, and on ticket was written your name. Your remember it now. And the name is what you’ve been missing. You feel alive, and suddenly you can not just look but see, not just hear but listen. And that voice is singing, “If it’s true what they say, I’ll be on my way.”
No. He can’t stop. He can’t go. He saved you and you owe him. So you stand and listen, and then you sing. “What’s the purpose of a man, just to turn his eyes away? Just to throw up both his hands? What’s the use of his backbone? If he never stands upright? If he turns his back on everyone that he could have stood beside?”
And then there are others. Singing. A choir of souls, neither dead or alive. All free now.
Free.