I.


Dear Hades,


This is how I want to die:

I will have sent letters to the few in my life - a cascade of leaves with veins very much like my own.  It is an injustice that they depart with such colourful splendor, while we lay limp in our anemic pallor, dull slabs of marble flesh.  I will have lain down my body and tools beside that which is my greatest work, in marriage to what I shall become.  The doors will be locked, a fire at the threshold, and mortality set in my heart.  The décor, I leave, up to you.

A few odd decades have passed, and I mean no offense when I say I am taken by the joys of this absurd existence.  Even so, I understand our contract – it is our tragedy, is it not?  I must thank you for giving me the opportunity to express my preference in advance; but, to the matter at hand, to put it simply, I wish this to be painless – for myself and others.

As I have said, I shall leave the rest to you.




II.


Dear Hades,


Do forgive me.

I was a bit rash under the spell of emotion.  Upon musing, I have refined my prehumous plans: to die in love on the first snowfall to the sweet song of sparrows.  It would be an utmost kindness should you allow me to send one last letter with the details – I promise I shall not delay.

As you may be aware, Aphrodite has complicated my initial plans.  Please send her my regards.  I am merely beginning to appreciate her nature.




III.


Hades,


I am in love.  I do not wish to die at all.  To trade these hands for Orpheus’ and keep these eyes – if only another dream would materialize.  Why have I been given what is to be taken away, knowing the great robber's plot?  Must we suffer, reduced to cruel amusement, a tragic art?  

Alas, should the gods tire of this theatre, may I die in my sleep, draped in the arms of my love on a cold winter evening.  That is all.


                                                                                      Your humble and aging servant,
                                                                                                     Pygmalion