Why have you stopped, child?
“You know, don’t you mother?” the Ferrywoman asked.
Nyx’s voice grew suddenly harsher than she’d ever heard it before. You are delaying the deposit. Take the coins.
As though on cue, Faye forced her hand forward, her eyes steady on the silvery sliding promises across the River.
“Babe?” said Janet.
Faye still had her eyes on the Underworld. The conception of her daughter hunkered closer to her.
“I can’t let you do this,” Janet told her. “I love you.”
Faye numbly turned her head, no recognition in her eyes.
Janet placed the oar in the water and pushed off.
What are you doing, you foul thing? Return. Return, I say!
The spirits rioted as the ferry drifted farther away from the shore. Over the swaying masses, Janet could no longer see Faye and her daughter, but she imagined them there, still together, holding hands.
Nyx called out for the Fury, which had become lost in a big city yet again.
When Janet reached the center of the River Hythia, she hurled the oar out as far as she could. It absorbed into water rather than splashing, gone in a blink.
Of course it would, thought Janet. It’s of the River, just as I am now.
You will retrieve that at once! Nyx thundered.
“I won’t,” Janet replied softly, “I’m not coming back here.”
You will listen to me!
The Fury appeared on the ferry and ungainly scrambled for Janet, opening its large black and white arms flaring with fur. As it rushed forward, a buck-toothed grin caught in its rat face.
Janet stepped off the ferry and dropped into the River.
CHAPTER VIII
The God
Nyx scoured the River for thousands of years. The God had no idea why she couldn’t find the woman—she could sense Janet, like somebody senses a loathsome skin tag on her body, but when Nyx groped there, she found nothing. From the River’s abuse, the suffering alone should have had Janet frantic to return to the surface. She was only down there with her grief. All her past pain would be exposed to her, like so much flayed open muscle and nerve, infected with her tears and mumbling madness of asking the question, “Why?” “Why has this been done?” “Why has this been done to me?” And clawing at her best intentions and intellect in a cruel world, she would arrive at the unfairness of it all and question the lack of balance. She was good person. Herman was good person. Melody wasn’t only good, but also pure and new. How could this be taken away? Why couldn’t it finally be rectified?
Janet’s mortal anguish should have been torturing her to unbelievable depths. Losing everything. Wanting the pain to end.
It never would.
And still Nyx hunted for this woman, Janet Erikson, the greatest single mistake of the God’s resurrected life.
Oh how she searched, starving and desperate for an answer…
CHAPTER IX
The Bottle
The shards of bottle glass would occasionally drift by and cut Janet’s thin presence in the River. The ache might have triggered a scream at one time, but Janet knew that alarming Nyx would undo her and awaken her newly forged immortal mind.
She didn’t want that.
She had her awful memories back again and couldn’t lose them.
She had Melody, she had Herman, she had Faye and Evan. It was often blood-soaked, haunted and disturbed, but the memories were all there for her, an incurable sickness with benefits.
Now that the richness of life was gone, the good parts were only drips from a once full bottle, but in between the madness and despair, they tasted divine.
CHAPTER X
The End
As the River could no longer be fed, the souls crowded the shore and overpopulated the world. It was surprising the waters never receded completely. Without mortal tragedy to fill it, how could the River still thrive? The idea that it would dry up sooner or later faded with those who lived in this place of mass haunting. In time, it was assumed the River would always be there. Just as the miserable dead would forever stare across the waters to the shores of the Underworld, marveling at the exhibition of dancing lies, waiting and hoping for something they’d never truly come to have.
About the Author
Benjamin Kane Ethridge is the Bram Stoker Award winning author of the novel Black & Orange (Bad Moon Books, 2010). For his master's thesis he wrote, “Causes of Unease: The Rhetoric of Horror Fiction and Film.” Available in an ivory tower near you. Benjamin lives in Southern California with his wife and two creatures who possess stunning resemblances to human children. When he isn't writing, reading, videogaming, Benjamin is defending California's waterways and sewers from pollution.
Visit Benjamin Kane Ethridge online at www.bkethridge.com
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