To Pay the Ferryman

Only a dream, or so they say
Of a place where waters long dried away.

At least, that’s what I wanted to believe, more desperately than any other dream I’d ever dreamt. It’s all in my head.

I stood alone on the shores of a dried riverbed, no water ran through its etched valleys. Yet, unseen liquid giggled on the rocks and lapped at the dry brush. My eyes ached, studying the emptiness before me.

“What is this?” I asked.

Somehow, I misread my isolation. A young woman perched beside me, spinning a coin in her pale hand.

She smiled. “This is the most important place.”

“The most important place?” My nose wrinkled with confusion.

“Yes.”

The wind howled around us, bellowing as if being slung through the metal hollows of a horn. I wanted to cover my ears and hide from the onslaught, but she didn’t give the monstrous song notice.

“Did you bring your coin?” she asked.

I glanced down at my empty hands and shook my head. I didn’t carry coins on me, I preferred credit cards.

“Well, that’s a shame.” She didn’t say anything more, stepping out onto the empty riverbed.

I shouted in warning but she didn’t drop to the sharp rocks below. Something unseen hovered, carrying her forward.

Only a dream.

The mantra meant nothing as she faded out of sight, leaving me alone on the ethereal shore. Where is my coin?

I blinked. My house replaced the river landscape. It wasn’t my house anymore. Others lived there, moving through me as if I didn’t exist.

Just a dream.

But, I recognized I needed to find my coin or I would remain a ghost forever. I wanted to cross the river too. Time to begin the search and admit, it wasn’t a dream.



This is an entry for

Daily Flash Fiction Challenge  (13+) Enter your story of 300 words or less. #896794 by Arakun the Twisted Raccoon