Release
On a desolate winter night, a lone figure stands beside a river that should not exist, a black, churning abyss filled with the grasping hands of the damned. As the wind howls and the world seems to hold its breath, something ancient emerges from the mist: a silent boatman, a skeletal harbinger of fate.
Drawn by forces beyond his control, he must confront a question more terrifying than death itself. What happens when the river does not take you… but refuses to let you go?
I wrote this short story after a particularly unsettling dream, I wanted to get it out of my head and onto the page. The style I wrote in was a choice to test myself that day, I have gotten some good (and some bad) feedback on it but for an experimental piece of short prose, I kind of love it.
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