The River [One-Shot]
I remember lying on the beach in Tamariu, Costa Brava and writing this story on my phone in between turns on the diving board. Yes, there was a diving board on the beach. Yes, it was scary and awesome at the same time.
(I didn't take this picture, but you get the idea.)
Anyway, this is loosely based on the Nightwish song Ghost River. I feel like I may have fallen back into my sloppy, overworded prose in an attempt to find the right voice, but I hope it reads okay. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!
The River
It was a warm afternoon, the kind that glued clothes to skin and filled the air with a thick, permanent fug. I decided to take a walk through the forest, if not only to clear my head from the uncomfortable heat of my cabin. A necessary journey, I soon discovered, as my wife Elena pointed out that our storage keg was running low on water. So, gathering a pail, I closed the door behind me and set off.
The walk did well to ease the heat from my limbs, but it wasn’t long before I realised that the trees themselves were little better than the walls of my cabin, so I resolved to studying my environment as a distraction. The forest was always beautiful this time of year. In winter, snow would fall and cover everything in a thick white blanket, but in summer, the world was allowed to lift its head from its den and run loose amongst the ferns. A thin mist hung above the ground, penetrated by blades of late afternoon sun that streamed through the canopy. If I paused in my steps, I could hear the sound of distant woodpeckers, and other creatures scuffling in the undergrowth nearby.
Yet it wasn’t long before the animal sounds turned into a light gushing, trickling through the trees. Sure enough, I soon happened upon a river. Fifteen feet wide and glistening, it cut a channel through the forest like a huge silver blade. My body ached at the sight, and it seemed as if in that moment, every scrap of heat exhaustion I could feel was intensified tenfold. There was no holding back. Barely taking the time to remove my shoes, I set the pail aside and dived beneath the surface.
The feeling of relief was indescribable. Like cool fingers, the water washed around me, drawing away the heat. I reached up and pulled loose the short tail of my hair, brushed the layer of sweat from my shoulders, pushed myself under until my lungs were burning for air. Only then did I allow my head to break the surface.
“Good afternoon.”
The sudden voice shocked me still, and turning my head, I saw a figure standing on the bank where I had dived in just a minute before. Embarrassment filled me at once. No doubt he had been here long enough to watch my childish display. Keeping my head low, I swam to the edge of the water and pulled myself onto the bank.
The figure watched me intently as I moved. Like me, he was young, though the resemblance ended there. His skin was pale, his eyes a vivid green, and his head topped with a crop of curls the colour of damp earth. I wondered how long it had been since he’d eaten a proper meal: were it not for the thin hair that sprouted on his chin, his body probably could have passed for a child’s.
“Apologies, friend,” I said. “I didn’t realise I was being watched. Still, it can’t be helped, what with the heat.”
When no response came, I turned to face the man, only to see him staring at me with the same intrigued expression as before. The look was somewhat off-putting. Shaking the excess water from my arms, I looked around for my pail, but was surprised to see it wasn’t where I’d left it. I scoured the banks, ran my eyes over the water in case it had fallen in, but there was nothing.
“Looking for something?” said the man.
I frowned. “My pail. I placed it down here a moment ago.” Thinking that the stranger might have had a hand in its displacement, I searched him up and down, but again, nothing. “Strange.”
“It would seem so.” At last, the figure drew away his eyes and knelt down beside the river. He extended one arm and stroked the surface gently. The action was almost hypnotic. “What's your name?”
It took a moment to realise he was talking to me and not the water he seemed so infatuated with. “I'm Björn.” I paused. “Do you have a name?”
“People call me The River Man.”
I stared at him, waiting for some kind of elaboration. “Just… The River Man? Is that what your mother named you?”
“No, but it is what I would like to be called.”
The abruptness of this comment took me aback a little, so I took a step away and turned to face the forest. The situation was irritating, to say the least. Not only was I to return to Elena with nothing but wet clothes, but now I had this stranger to entertain. Well, I wasn't going to rise to it - not in this humidity. I’d just started walking when a voice rose up behind me.
“Are you a man of games, Björn?”
I frowned. Then I spun around. The River Man was standing again, his eyes fixed upon me in that same unnerving fashion.
His question struck me as odd. “That depends on the nature. Why, were you going to propose something?”
“Hmm, perhaps. It’s nothing much. More of a challenge, really.” A pause. “Care to accept?”
I was a little taken by this abrupt turn of events, but decided to play along, nodding my affirmation. One part of me felt bad for leaving Elena on her own after my assurance of a prompt return, though I doubted this so-called challenge would last long; and if it did, then there was nothing to stop me from returning. What’s more, sunset was more than an hour away, and the promise of staying by the cool water was enough to make any task sound inviting. Surely it couldn't hurt to humour this lad in his games?
A small smile lifted The River Man's lips. “Come with me.”
We followed the river downstream for about two hundred yards. Here, the channel was wider, and no doubt deeper too. A small island, two feet across, split the water down its centre. I watched as The River Man took his place before me and began to motion.
“There are three parts to this challenge, each more testing than the last. In order to win, you may complete each section in any manner you see fit.”
I had to suppress a smile as I looked at him, waving his arms like some over-excited stick insect as he spoke. Clearly, he’d planned all this far in advance.
“So what is this great challenge?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. “Do I receive a pail of water as a reward?”
“All in good time, my friend. First-” The man pointed to the water. “-you must retrieve a stone and bring it to the surface.”
I glanced over the side of the bank, then back at The River Man. “Is that all?”
“Indeed.”
I found myself raising an eyebrow. Surely this was some kind of joke? The water at the edge had to be a foot deep at most. Dressing this up as a ‘challenge’ was laughable.
Nevertheless, I knelt down on the grass and reached one hand into the water. My fingers met the bed, where, sure enough, a collection of stones lay amongst the silt.
“Any particular one?”
“The choice is yours.”
I took no time in selecting a suitable pebble. Yet when I tried to bring it to the surface, I was met with resistance. Just for a moment, my hand slipped back, as if the water itself were pulling on it. It wasn't enough to stall me from my position, but I found myself staring into the river regardless.
“Is there a problem?” came The River Man's voice.
I shook my head as I scanned the water. Now that my hand was free and the ripples gone, I could see no weed or debris - nothing that might have caught onto my hand to hold it under the surface. How odd, I thought. I could only put it down to my imagination.
Easing myself to my feet, I held out the stone for The River Man. He took it and held it up to the light, examining it briefly, before turning his eyes back to me. “Well done. You have passed the first challenge.”
I almost snorted at his idiocy, but held myself back. He seemed to be enjoying himself. The least I could do was let him have his fun before I made for home.
The River Man continued: “This second part is more difficult. Your skills will be tested further, and in order to succeed, it would be wise to utilise them.” He pointed to the river. I followed his finger to the small island that sat in the middle. “For this task, you must reach that island and return.”
As with the stone, a tediously simple instruction. I glanced at the man, then back at the point. It wasn’t so much an island as a spit of land, just about big enough for a person to stand on without losing balance. I smirked in ridicule of the task, and took my place on the bank.
Yet before stepping in, I paused. The memory of the first challenge was still fresh in my mind, the way I’d felt the water drag my hand back. And whilst I was sure I’d imagined it, I felt the first twinge of anxiety rise within me.
“To the island and back?” I repeated.
“Yes,” said The River Man.
I took a deep breath, then stepped in. The current pulled gently at my foot, but apart from that, there was nothing - no movement, no strange force. I relaxed, and, lowering my other foot into the river, began to make my way across.
The first minute was fine. The channel started out at around twelve inches in depth and continued until it was around my waist. When I reached the island, I climbed out, picked a handful of small stones from the ground as proof of my waypoint and jumped back in, ready to return to the bank. No sooner had I reached halfway, however, the water moved.
There was no mistaking it this time. One moment, my feet were rooted firmly in the river bed; the next, they were pushed out from underneath me. I hit the surface face-first. Like a sea of hands, the water began to pull me, dragging me beneath. I struggled, called for The River Man, thrust my limbs out in an attempt to keep myself afloat, but there was no response.
My hand caught hold of the bank and latched on tight. As the force of the water subsided, I managed to take hold of some grass and drag myself out. I rolled onto the bank, gasping and dripping wet, my heartbeat in my ears.
A figure swam into view. “I suppose ‘congratulations’ are in order.” The River Man's face held a subtle smile.
Only at his words did I realise my left hand still clutched some of the stones I’d picked up on the island. Growling, I rolled onto my front and slammed them into the ground at the man’s feet. Then I stood up. I was grateful for my height in that moment, as I was able to lean over him by several inches.
“What was that?” I demanded.
The River Man only shrugged, clearly unfazed by my anger. “Did I not say that the challenge would utilise your skills?” Bending down, he picked up one of the stones at his feet and examined it. “Honestly, I don't know why you’re so angry. You passed, didn’t you?”
His overt indifference only made me more furious. I jabbed a finger in the river’s direction. “Couldn’t you see I was drowning? Didn’t you think to help?”
At last, The River Man raised his eyes to stare at me. With a disturbingly vacant expression, he said, “Believe me, Björn. Drowning is not the worst thing that can befall a person in this river.”
More cryptic words. I began to wonder if he was capable of giving a straight answer. “If death is not the worst thing, then what is?”
The man only smiled. “Do you want your final challenge or not?”
I probably would have laughed were it not for my fury. The way the boy stared at me, his expression and serious tone… Did he really think I was going to accept a third task? I’d put my life in danger, humiliated myself - all at his entertainment. And as if to add a twist of irony, I still hadn’t collected my water. The whole situation was ridiculous.
I shook my head. “Sorry. I’ve had enough.”
No sooner had I finished my sentence, I’d turned and begun to walk. One part of me expected The River Man to follow, but luckily, I didn’t hear a second pair of footsteps behind.
“Leave now and Elena won't be very happy.”
I felt my blood chill at the words. When I turned, my eyes found The River Man,stood in the same spot as before.
“What?” I hissed.
“Her name is Elena, isn’t it? And your child… Callen. A fitting name. He is such a playful child, after all.”
My bottom lip quivered as I spoke. “H-how can you know that?” It couldn’t have been more than a week ago since Callen had been born, and even then, we’d hardly left the forest to show him around. As I felt my shock turn to confusion and finally anger, I started towards The River Man. “What have you done with my wife?”
The man opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as I seized his collar and dragged him to the ground.
“Where is she?” I demanded, bending down over him. My mind raced with all the possibilities, blinded by fear for my family. The thought that this man had come anywhere near them repulsed me.
“Your wife and child are safe. You needn’t worry.” The River Man’s voice was surprisingly calm. He reached up and placed a hand on my shoulder. I reeled from him.
“If you so much as touch either of them…” I took a hold of the man’s wrist to pull his away, when something caught my eye. A gold band was wrapped around his ring finger. I’d noticed it before, but only now, looking at it closely, did I realise what it was. The ring I’d given Elena on our marriage day.
I looked at the man, too shocked to show anger. “This is Elena’s.”
The River Man pulled back his hand and slid off the ring. He held it up for me. In the light, there was no mistaking it. I could even make out the words engraved on the inner side: Kunnes kuolen - Until the day I die
There was silence for a few minutes as I stared at it, too anxious to touch. When I did eventually take it, the metal felt cold against my skin, as if it had just been snatched from the bottom of the river. I closed my palm and squeezed. My eyes lingered not on the man, but on the river, several feet away.
“Do you want your final challenge, Björn?”
I don’t know what possessed me to nod. Perhaps I was tired - tired of the anger and aggression. Or perhaps one part of me knew that the only way to rid myself of this being was to complete his challenge. I couldn’t tell. The fury had faded from me, replaced by fear - fear for my family. I had to finish this for them.
I moved back to let The River Man free. He stood up and brushed the needles from his clothes. “Right, Björn. Your third and final task.” He paused to point at the water in the usual manner. “Cross the river. You may use any means at your disposal.”
Again I nodded. I had been expecting this. After the stone and the island, it only made sense that the last challenge would be a full crossing. But this time, I had a new approach.
My father and I had made rafts when I was small, using them on short journeys across lakes. They’d never lasted long, but I remembered the basic rules, the tricks that maximised buoyancy and kept the structure afloat that extra second more. It took me little short of an hour to construct my own raft from materials in the area. By the time I was finished, it was almost sundown.
The River Man, I knew, had been watching me through every moment. As I eased the raft into water, he nodded in admiration. “Very good. An intuitive idea.”
I ignored his remarks, though as I looked at my handiwork, I felt the smallest hint of triumph. It was no opus, but it floated, and held itself against the current. I placed one foot onto the platform and continued to add pressure until my whole weight was supported.
I decided to take the longer route around the island, with the flattened palm of my hand to act as an oar. My instincts urged me to glance back, to make sure The River Man hadn’t run off back into the woods, but I forced my attentions on the raft. There was nothing that could happen to me now that I was out of the water. Whatever he had been planning by sending me into the river a third time I had avoided. And then, as soon as I had crossed, I would head straight home to Elena - away from this madness and the heat. The thought warmed me.
I’d travelled about two thirds of the way across when something caught my eye. Here, the channel was deeper, and probably would have reached my chest had I chosen to stand. As I leaned over and peered into the water, I saw something pale on the bottom. Blurred at first by the ripples, it gradually moved into focus, and as it did, I felt my heart drop.
It was a human hand. Suddenly paralysed, I followed it with my eyes to the shadowed area beneath the raft. I dropped my hand into the water and pushed myself back, revealing more and more - an arm, a shoulder. Then the body of a woman, lying still on the riverbed. I barely thought about what I did next.
My body hit the water at an angle. With my heartbeat in my throat and the ringing of the dive in my ears, it took me a moment to orientate myself. I spun around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman, but there was nothing. The river was empty.
I could feel myself panicking now. The water blurred my vision. Even so, I thought, I should have been able to see something - the bottom of the raft, or the sunlight streaming in from the surface. Neither were present. When I reached for the bed, my fingers brushed against nothingness. It was as if I were being dragged downwards, into the pits of a river with no bottom. No end. Darkness closed in around me. I didn’t dare to fight it.
And then, a figure. With a shock, I realised it was the woman I had seen before. Her eyes hung open, and her hair washed about her face like pale weed. She placed a hand on either side of my face. As I felt the last of my breath escape me, I stared into her eyes and thought of Elena. Was this to be the last face I would see in my life? The only thing that frightened me more than death was the fear of leaving Elena behind, of my child, raised without his father. How could I allow myself to turn away so easily?
When the first shard of light filtered down, I twisted up and pushed myself towards it. The woman floated behind. Reaching out, I took hold of her waist and dragged her up. She wasn't heavy, but the force of the water held me back. As if it refused to let her go. Keeping my eyes on the surface, I struggled with my whole body until the water parted and my head broke the surface.
I swam to the nearest side, then clawed my way onto the bank. The woman was still as I hauled her from the water and lay her across the ground. Her whole body was dripping.
A few steps away, a figure loomed. “Well, Björn, I suppose congratulations are in-”
“Shut up.”
I leaned over the woman. Her eyes were no longer open, and her chest was still. When I pressed two fingers to her neck, I failed to sense a pulse. My mind skipped to the worst.
“She's gone.”
At last, I looked up at The River Man. Yet instead of focusing on the woman, his eyes were fixed on me, blanketed by the same vacant stare as before. I knew I didn’t have the energy to confront him, so shook my head. “You… you know this person?”
The man nodded. “She lost her life in the river. Drowned.”
The words seemed seeped deep beneath my skin, chilling me to the bone. Slowly, I turned back to the woman lying beneath me. She was dead. Yet at the same time, pretty. Just like Elena. I ran a finger along her jawline, not sure whether to recoil or relish in the softness of her cold skin. “Death is selfish to have taken someone so young.”
“Death takes whomever he likes,” replied The River Man. “It is our job in this world to accept his choices.”
I shook my head slowly, but couldn’t come up with a reply. Eventually, I said, “You knew this woman was to die.” The words were not so much a question as a statement. I raised my head. “Tell me who she is.”
The River Man bent low and stretched out his hand, as if to touch her hair, but stopped midway. “My wife.” All of a sudden, his eyes carried a wistful, longing expression. “We were out walking. She slipped and fell in the water. I tried to save her, but the current was too strong. It was as if something were pulling her under. By the time I’d reached the bank, she was gone. Lost to the river.”
I thought back to when I was in the water, to the feeling of drowning, like a thousand hands had taken hold of me. The River Man’s story came as no surprise. I didn’t feel remorse, nor sympathy. Only a strange acceptance. Perhaps a part of me had foreseen this situation.
Perhaps I’d been here before.
I buried the woman a few yards from the bank, in a place where the earth had split to leave a bed just wide enough for a body. Without a shovel, I was left to cover her with leaves, moss and loose soil, until only a mound remained. And all the while, I half-expected her to wake up, to open her eyes and cough the water from her lungs. But of course, this was no fantasy. When at last she was at rest, I straightened, wiped the sweat from my brow and turned to The River Man.
He was standing by a tree, one whose roots rose up from the earth and tangled with the grass. I felt like I should say something, to break the silence if nothing else, but no words came. In the background, the river bubbled.
“You’ve done well, Björn,” he said. “Very well, in fact. You are free to go about your business as you see fit. And I have no more business here.”
He took a step away from the tree, towards the river. I raised a hand. “Wait.” Whilst I wasn’t unhappy to see him leave, there was one thing more I needed to know. “Why? Why do all this?”
The River Man shook his head and shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe one day you’ll see. I cannot answer all your questions for you, Björn.” Another step. “You may thank me. On the other hand, you may resent me and this river for the rest of your life.”
I thought back to the ring, to the force in the water and the woman. Surely after everything, all those isolated cryptic incidents, a truth should arise? Wasn’t that how the stories were supposed to play out? And yet I felt more confused than ever before.
By this time, The River Man was teetering on the bank. One push, and he would have gone toppling back into the water. His eyes caught mine, and for a moment, I could see the fury in them, the strength of an ocean at full tide, the waves as they flayed the shore, the glistening abyss at the bottom of a river - eyes that could have dragged a thousand men into their depths if he wished it so. He took a final step back.
And then he was gone, lost to the river.
*
They say the best stories are those left unfinished; and yet every story needs an ending.
I arrive home, pail in hand, a little after sunset. The door is unlocked - just as I left it. Taking care not to spill any of the water, I leave the pail inside the door, then head around the back of the house to the garden.
The temperature has dropped a little, though a little mist still hangs by my feet. It’s more comfortable now that the sun has gone in. As I reach the small plot of land, cleared of trees and bushes, my eyes fall upon two tablets in the far corner.
I walk over and kneel before them, taking care not to crush the carrots beneath my knees. The stone holds a fresh scent, the words reflecting the clumsiness of the hand and chisel that so recently carved them: Callan Korpela
I think of my son, of his eyes, his tiny body cradled in my arms, his hair… such beautiful hair - the colour of damp earth - and yet so different from my wood-brown or Elena’s platinum blonde. Smiling wistfully at the memories, I turn my attentions to the second slab.
Elena Korpela
I run my fingers tenderly over my wife’s name, then remember something. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the ring and hold it in my palm. The metal shines a dull gold in the absence of moonlight.
“I found this in the river,” I say, placing it at the base of the tablet. For a moment, I wait, half-expecting a reply. Yet when none comes, and the night rings silent, I lean forward and press my lips to each of the stones in turn - first my child’s, then my wife’s. Then I stand.
The forest looks different in darkness. It looks more at peace with itself, without the heat of day to aggravate it and the woodpeckers to drive their bills into the trees. A man could get lonely, knowing he is the only one around for miles. A man could go crazy.
I wonder how deep that pail is.
[Author's Note]So you reached the end. I suppose that deserves a congratulations in itself, lol. This is one of those stories where I made most of it up as I went along. It all came together in the end, though. So, what do you think? Who is The River Man? A ghost? A water spirit? Did Björn just imagine the whole situation by the river?
Happy September, people.
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(I didn't take this picture, but you get the idea.)
Anyway, this is loosely based on the Nightwish song Ghost River. I feel like I may have fallen back into my sloppy, overworded prose in an attempt to find the right voice, but I hope it reads okay. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!
The River
It was a warm afternoon, the kind that glued clothes to skin and filled the air with a thick, permanent fug. I decided to take a walk through the forest, if not only to clear my head from the uncomfortable heat of my cabin. A necessary journey, I soon discovered, as my wife Elena pointed out that our storage keg was running low on water. So, gathering a pail, I closed the door behind me and set off.
The walk did well to ease the heat from my limbs, but it wasn’t long before I realised that the trees themselves were little better than the walls of my cabin, so I resolved to studying my environment as a distraction. The forest was always beautiful this time of year. In winter, snow would fall and cover everything in a thick white blanket, but in summer, the world was allowed to lift its head from its den and run loose amongst the ferns. A thin mist hung above the ground, penetrated by blades of late afternoon sun that streamed through the canopy. If I paused in my steps, I could hear the sound of distant woodpeckers, and other creatures scuffling in the undergrowth nearby.
Yet it wasn’t long before the animal sounds turned into a light gushing, trickling through the trees. Sure enough, I soon happened upon a river. Fifteen feet wide and glistening, it cut a channel through the forest like a huge silver blade. My body ached at the sight, and it seemed as if in that moment, every scrap of heat exhaustion I could feel was intensified tenfold. There was no holding back. Barely taking the time to remove my shoes, I set the pail aside and dived beneath the surface.
The feeling of relief was indescribable. Like cool fingers, the water washed around me, drawing away the heat. I reached up and pulled loose the short tail of my hair, brushed the layer of sweat from my shoulders, pushed myself under until my lungs were burning for air. Only then did I allow my head to break the surface.
“Good afternoon.”
The sudden voice shocked me still, and turning my head, I saw a figure standing on the bank where I had dived in just a minute before. Embarrassment filled me at once. No doubt he had been here long enough to watch my childish display. Keeping my head low, I swam to the edge of the water and pulled myself onto the bank.
The figure watched me intently as I moved. Like me, he was young, though the resemblance ended there. His skin was pale, his eyes a vivid green, and his head topped with a crop of curls the colour of damp earth. I wondered how long it had been since he’d eaten a proper meal: were it not for the thin hair that sprouted on his chin, his body probably could have passed for a child’s.
“Apologies, friend,” I said. “I didn’t realise I was being watched. Still, it can’t be helped, what with the heat.”
When no response came, I turned to face the man, only to see him staring at me with the same intrigued expression as before. The look was somewhat off-putting. Shaking the excess water from my arms, I looked around for my pail, but was surprised to see it wasn’t where I’d left it. I scoured the banks, ran my eyes over the water in case it had fallen in, but there was nothing.
“Looking for something?” said the man.
I frowned. “My pail. I placed it down here a moment ago.” Thinking that the stranger might have had a hand in its displacement, I searched him up and down, but again, nothing. “Strange.”
“It would seem so.” At last, the figure drew away his eyes and knelt down beside the river. He extended one arm and stroked the surface gently. The action was almost hypnotic. “What's your name?”
It took a moment to realise he was talking to me and not the water he seemed so infatuated with. “I'm Björn.” I paused. “Do you have a name?”
“People call me The River Man.”
I stared at him, waiting for some kind of elaboration. “Just… The River Man? Is that what your mother named you?”
“No, but it is what I would like to be called.”
The abruptness of this comment took me aback a little, so I took a step away and turned to face the forest. The situation was irritating, to say the least. Not only was I to return to Elena with nothing but wet clothes, but now I had this stranger to entertain. Well, I wasn't going to rise to it - not in this humidity. I’d just started walking when a voice rose up behind me.
“Are you a man of games, Björn?”
I frowned. Then I spun around. The River Man was standing again, his eyes fixed upon me in that same unnerving fashion.
His question struck me as odd. “That depends on the nature. Why, were you going to propose something?”
“Hmm, perhaps. It’s nothing much. More of a challenge, really.” A pause. “Care to accept?”
I was a little taken by this abrupt turn of events, but decided to play along, nodding my affirmation. One part of me felt bad for leaving Elena on her own after my assurance of a prompt return, though I doubted this so-called challenge would last long; and if it did, then there was nothing to stop me from returning. What’s more, sunset was more than an hour away, and the promise of staying by the cool water was enough to make any task sound inviting. Surely it couldn't hurt to humour this lad in his games?
A small smile lifted The River Man's lips. “Come with me.”
We followed the river downstream for about two hundred yards. Here, the channel was wider, and no doubt deeper too. A small island, two feet across, split the water down its centre. I watched as The River Man took his place before me and began to motion.
“There are three parts to this challenge, each more testing than the last. In order to win, you may complete each section in any manner you see fit.”
I had to suppress a smile as I looked at him, waving his arms like some over-excited stick insect as he spoke. Clearly, he’d planned all this far in advance.
“So what is this great challenge?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. “Do I receive a pail of water as a reward?”
“All in good time, my friend. First-” The man pointed to the water. “-you must retrieve a stone and bring it to the surface.”
I glanced over the side of the bank, then back at The River Man. “Is that all?”
“Indeed.”
I found myself raising an eyebrow. Surely this was some kind of joke? The water at the edge had to be a foot deep at most. Dressing this up as a ‘challenge’ was laughable.
Nevertheless, I knelt down on the grass and reached one hand into the water. My fingers met the bed, where, sure enough, a collection of stones lay amongst the silt.
“Any particular one?”
“The choice is yours.”
I took no time in selecting a suitable pebble. Yet when I tried to bring it to the surface, I was met with resistance. Just for a moment, my hand slipped back, as if the water itself were pulling on it. It wasn't enough to stall me from my position, but I found myself staring into the river regardless.
“Is there a problem?” came The River Man's voice.
I shook my head as I scanned the water. Now that my hand was free and the ripples gone, I could see no weed or debris - nothing that might have caught onto my hand to hold it under the surface. How odd, I thought. I could only put it down to my imagination.
Easing myself to my feet, I held out the stone for The River Man. He took it and held it up to the light, examining it briefly, before turning his eyes back to me. “Well done. You have passed the first challenge.”
I almost snorted at his idiocy, but held myself back. He seemed to be enjoying himself. The least I could do was let him have his fun before I made for home.
The River Man continued: “This second part is more difficult. Your skills will be tested further, and in order to succeed, it would be wise to utilise them.” He pointed to the river. I followed his finger to the small island that sat in the middle. “For this task, you must reach that island and return.”
As with the stone, a tediously simple instruction. I glanced at the man, then back at the point. It wasn’t so much an island as a spit of land, just about big enough for a person to stand on without losing balance. I smirked in ridicule of the task, and took my place on the bank.
Yet before stepping in, I paused. The memory of the first challenge was still fresh in my mind, the way I’d felt the water drag my hand back. And whilst I was sure I’d imagined it, I felt the first twinge of anxiety rise within me.
“To the island and back?” I repeated.
“Yes,” said The River Man.
I took a deep breath, then stepped in. The current pulled gently at my foot, but apart from that, there was nothing - no movement, no strange force. I relaxed, and, lowering my other foot into the river, began to make my way across.
The first minute was fine. The channel started out at around twelve inches in depth and continued until it was around my waist. When I reached the island, I climbed out, picked a handful of small stones from the ground as proof of my waypoint and jumped back in, ready to return to the bank. No sooner had I reached halfway, however, the water moved.
There was no mistaking it this time. One moment, my feet were rooted firmly in the river bed; the next, they were pushed out from underneath me. I hit the surface face-first. Like a sea of hands, the water began to pull me, dragging me beneath. I struggled, called for The River Man, thrust my limbs out in an attempt to keep myself afloat, but there was no response.
My hand caught hold of the bank and latched on tight. As the force of the water subsided, I managed to take hold of some grass and drag myself out. I rolled onto the bank, gasping and dripping wet, my heartbeat in my ears.
A figure swam into view. “I suppose ‘congratulations’ are in order.” The River Man's face held a subtle smile.
Only at his words did I realise my left hand still clutched some of the stones I’d picked up on the island. Growling, I rolled onto my front and slammed them into the ground at the man’s feet. Then I stood up. I was grateful for my height in that moment, as I was able to lean over him by several inches.
“What was that?” I demanded.
The River Man only shrugged, clearly unfazed by my anger. “Did I not say that the challenge would utilise your skills?” Bending down, he picked up one of the stones at his feet and examined it. “Honestly, I don't know why you’re so angry. You passed, didn’t you?”
His overt indifference only made me more furious. I jabbed a finger in the river’s direction. “Couldn’t you see I was drowning? Didn’t you think to help?”
At last, The River Man raised his eyes to stare at me. With a disturbingly vacant expression, he said, “Believe me, Björn. Drowning is not the worst thing that can befall a person in this river.”
More cryptic words. I began to wonder if he was capable of giving a straight answer. “If death is not the worst thing, then what is?”
The man only smiled. “Do you want your final challenge or not?”
I probably would have laughed were it not for my fury. The way the boy stared at me, his expression and serious tone… Did he really think I was going to accept a third task? I’d put my life in danger, humiliated myself - all at his entertainment. And as if to add a twist of irony, I still hadn’t collected my water. The whole situation was ridiculous.
I shook my head. “Sorry. I’ve had enough.”
No sooner had I finished my sentence, I’d turned and begun to walk. One part of me expected The River Man to follow, but luckily, I didn’t hear a second pair of footsteps behind.
“Leave now and Elena won't be very happy.”
I felt my blood chill at the words. When I turned, my eyes found The River Man,stood in the same spot as before.
“What?” I hissed.
“Her name is Elena, isn’t it? And your child… Callen. A fitting name. He is such a playful child, after all.”
My bottom lip quivered as I spoke. “H-how can you know that?” It couldn’t have been more than a week ago since Callen had been born, and even then, we’d hardly left the forest to show him around. As I felt my shock turn to confusion and finally anger, I started towards The River Man. “What have you done with my wife?”
The man opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as I seized his collar and dragged him to the ground.
“Where is she?” I demanded, bending down over him. My mind raced with all the possibilities, blinded by fear for my family. The thought that this man had come anywhere near them repulsed me.
“Your wife and child are safe. You needn’t worry.” The River Man’s voice was surprisingly calm. He reached up and placed a hand on my shoulder. I reeled from him.
“If you so much as touch either of them…” I took a hold of the man’s wrist to pull his away, when something caught my eye. A gold band was wrapped around his ring finger. I’d noticed it before, but only now, looking at it closely, did I realise what it was. The ring I’d given Elena on our marriage day.
I looked at the man, too shocked to show anger. “This is Elena’s.”
The River Man pulled back his hand and slid off the ring. He held it up for me. In the light, there was no mistaking it. I could even make out the words engraved on the inner side: Kunnes kuolen - Until the day I die
There was silence for a few minutes as I stared at it, too anxious to touch. When I did eventually take it, the metal felt cold against my skin, as if it had just been snatched from the bottom of the river. I closed my palm and squeezed. My eyes lingered not on the man, but on the river, several feet away.
“Do you want your final challenge, Björn?”
I don’t know what possessed me to nod. Perhaps I was tired - tired of the anger and aggression. Or perhaps one part of me knew that the only way to rid myself of this being was to complete his challenge. I couldn’t tell. The fury had faded from me, replaced by fear - fear for my family. I had to finish this for them.
I moved back to let The River Man free. He stood up and brushed the needles from his clothes. “Right, Björn. Your third and final task.” He paused to point at the water in the usual manner. “Cross the river. You may use any means at your disposal.”
Again I nodded. I had been expecting this. After the stone and the island, it only made sense that the last challenge would be a full crossing. But this time, I had a new approach.
My father and I had made rafts when I was small, using them on short journeys across lakes. They’d never lasted long, but I remembered the basic rules, the tricks that maximised buoyancy and kept the structure afloat that extra second more. It took me little short of an hour to construct my own raft from materials in the area. By the time I was finished, it was almost sundown.
The River Man, I knew, had been watching me through every moment. As I eased the raft into water, he nodded in admiration. “Very good. An intuitive idea.”
I ignored his remarks, though as I looked at my handiwork, I felt the smallest hint of triumph. It was no opus, but it floated, and held itself against the current. I placed one foot onto the platform and continued to add pressure until my whole weight was supported.
I decided to take the longer route around the island, with the flattened palm of my hand to act as an oar. My instincts urged me to glance back, to make sure The River Man hadn’t run off back into the woods, but I forced my attentions on the raft. There was nothing that could happen to me now that I was out of the water. Whatever he had been planning by sending me into the river a third time I had avoided. And then, as soon as I had crossed, I would head straight home to Elena - away from this madness and the heat. The thought warmed me.
I’d travelled about two thirds of the way across when something caught my eye. Here, the channel was deeper, and probably would have reached my chest had I chosen to stand. As I leaned over and peered into the water, I saw something pale on the bottom. Blurred at first by the ripples, it gradually moved into focus, and as it did, I felt my heart drop.
It was a human hand. Suddenly paralysed, I followed it with my eyes to the shadowed area beneath the raft. I dropped my hand into the water and pushed myself back, revealing more and more - an arm, a shoulder. Then the body of a woman, lying still on the riverbed. I barely thought about what I did next.
My body hit the water at an angle. With my heartbeat in my throat and the ringing of the dive in my ears, it took me a moment to orientate myself. I spun around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman, but there was nothing. The river was empty.
I could feel myself panicking now. The water blurred my vision. Even so, I thought, I should have been able to see something - the bottom of the raft, or the sunlight streaming in from the surface. Neither were present. When I reached for the bed, my fingers brushed against nothingness. It was as if I were being dragged downwards, into the pits of a river with no bottom. No end. Darkness closed in around me. I didn’t dare to fight it.
And then, a figure. With a shock, I realised it was the woman I had seen before. Her eyes hung open, and her hair washed about her face like pale weed. She placed a hand on either side of my face. As I felt the last of my breath escape me, I stared into her eyes and thought of Elena. Was this to be the last face I would see in my life? The only thing that frightened me more than death was the fear of leaving Elena behind, of my child, raised without his father. How could I allow myself to turn away so easily?
When the first shard of light filtered down, I twisted up and pushed myself towards it. The woman floated behind. Reaching out, I took hold of her waist and dragged her up. She wasn't heavy, but the force of the water held me back. As if it refused to let her go. Keeping my eyes on the surface, I struggled with my whole body until the water parted and my head broke the surface.
I swam to the nearest side, then clawed my way onto the bank. The woman was still as I hauled her from the water and lay her across the ground. Her whole body was dripping.
A few steps away, a figure loomed. “Well, Björn, I suppose congratulations are in-”
“Shut up.”
I leaned over the woman. Her eyes were no longer open, and her chest was still. When I pressed two fingers to her neck, I failed to sense a pulse. My mind skipped to the worst.
“She's gone.”
At last, I looked up at The River Man. Yet instead of focusing on the woman, his eyes were fixed on me, blanketed by the same vacant stare as before. I knew I didn’t have the energy to confront him, so shook my head. “You… you know this person?”
The man nodded. “She lost her life in the river. Drowned.”
The words seemed seeped deep beneath my skin, chilling me to the bone. Slowly, I turned back to the woman lying beneath me. She was dead. Yet at the same time, pretty. Just like Elena. I ran a finger along her jawline, not sure whether to recoil or relish in the softness of her cold skin. “Death is selfish to have taken someone so young.”
“Death takes whomever he likes,” replied The River Man. “It is our job in this world to accept his choices.”
I shook my head slowly, but couldn’t come up with a reply. Eventually, I said, “You knew this woman was to die.” The words were not so much a question as a statement. I raised my head. “Tell me who she is.”
The River Man bent low and stretched out his hand, as if to touch her hair, but stopped midway. “My wife.” All of a sudden, his eyes carried a wistful, longing expression. “We were out walking. She slipped and fell in the water. I tried to save her, but the current was too strong. It was as if something were pulling her under. By the time I’d reached the bank, she was gone. Lost to the river.”
I thought back to when I was in the water, to the feeling of drowning, like a thousand hands had taken hold of me. The River Man’s story came as no surprise. I didn’t feel remorse, nor sympathy. Only a strange acceptance. Perhaps a part of me had foreseen this situation.
Perhaps I’d been here before.
I buried the woman a few yards from the bank, in a place where the earth had split to leave a bed just wide enough for a body. Without a shovel, I was left to cover her with leaves, moss and loose soil, until only a mound remained. And all the while, I half-expected her to wake up, to open her eyes and cough the water from her lungs. But of course, this was no fantasy. When at last she was at rest, I straightened, wiped the sweat from my brow and turned to The River Man.
He was standing by a tree, one whose roots rose up from the earth and tangled with the grass. I felt like I should say something, to break the silence if nothing else, but no words came. In the background, the river bubbled.
“You’ve done well, Björn,” he said. “Very well, in fact. You are free to go about your business as you see fit. And I have no more business here.”
He took a step away from the tree, towards the river. I raised a hand. “Wait.” Whilst I wasn’t unhappy to see him leave, there was one thing more I needed to know. “Why? Why do all this?”
The River Man shook his head and shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe one day you’ll see. I cannot answer all your questions for you, Björn.” Another step. “You may thank me. On the other hand, you may resent me and this river for the rest of your life.”
I thought back to the ring, to the force in the water and the woman. Surely after everything, all those isolated cryptic incidents, a truth should arise? Wasn’t that how the stories were supposed to play out? And yet I felt more confused than ever before.
By this time, The River Man was teetering on the bank. One push, and he would have gone toppling back into the water. His eyes caught mine, and for a moment, I could see the fury in them, the strength of an ocean at full tide, the waves as they flayed the shore, the glistening abyss at the bottom of a river - eyes that could have dragged a thousand men into their depths if he wished it so. He took a final step back.
And then he was gone, lost to the river.
*
They say the best stories are those left unfinished; and yet every story needs an ending.
I arrive home, pail in hand, a little after sunset. The door is unlocked - just as I left it. Taking care not to spill any of the water, I leave the pail inside the door, then head around the back of the house to the garden.
The temperature has dropped a little, though a little mist still hangs by my feet. It’s more comfortable now that the sun has gone in. As I reach the small plot of land, cleared of trees and bushes, my eyes fall upon two tablets in the far corner.
I walk over and kneel before them, taking care not to crush the carrots beneath my knees. The stone holds a fresh scent, the words reflecting the clumsiness of the hand and chisel that so recently carved them: Callan Korpela
I think of my son, of his eyes, his tiny body cradled in my arms, his hair… such beautiful hair - the colour of damp earth - and yet so different from my wood-brown or Elena’s platinum blonde. Smiling wistfully at the memories, I turn my attentions to the second slab.
Elena Korpela
I run my fingers tenderly over my wife’s name, then remember something. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the ring and hold it in my palm. The metal shines a dull gold in the absence of moonlight.
“I found this in the river,” I say, placing it at the base of the tablet. For a moment, I wait, half-expecting a reply. Yet when none comes, and the night rings silent, I lean forward and press my lips to each of the stones in turn - first my child’s, then my wife’s. Then I stand.
The forest looks different in darkness. It looks more at peace with itself, without the heat of day to aggravate it and the woodpeckers to drive their bills into the trees. A man could get lonely, knowing he is the only one around for miles. A man could go crazy.
I wonder how deep that pail is.
[Author's Note]So you reached the end. I suppose that deserves a congratulations in itself, lol. This is one of those stories where I made most of it up as I went along. It all came together in the end, though. So, what do you think? Who is The River Man? A ghost? A water spirit? Did Björn just imagine the whole situation by the river?
Happy September, people.
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