The Shimmering River

It was dark, so unnaturally dark. He could not see anything. Upon further review, he could not feel anything either. There was no heat, nor the absence of it, that brought the cold. All he was certain of was his own thoughts. The man was no longer sure if he possessed his body, but his thoughts raced nonetheless. Out into the void, the man voiced those thoughts.

Did I just die?

It was the same feeling as speaking, yet no words came out. He understood what he said, but not through hearing his own words.

But the question, did he die, was a fair one to ask. He could not feel the weight of his own body, nor could he make sense of anything around him. There were only two options he considered now. The first one is that he died, and the second is that he's dreaming. Although when people begin to realize they’re asleep, usually that's when the facade fades. It didn’t.

That leaves only the first idea. He wasn’t a particularly religious man, so he was unsure if something like this was the kind of heaven people spoke of. Well, it sure did not feel like it. No god, goddess, or angel was waiting to greet him, nor was there a suspicious voice talking at length about parameters like a video game. There was that voice from before, but now…

There was nothing.

What feels like an eternity ago, he had told his mother that he would see her again when she came home. That would be the last time he ever spoke to her. The last time he shared a word with his father was…

Ha, didn’t even matter in the end, then did it. If death was going to greet me first, why’d it have to take me now?

Once again, his words took no purchase in this void. Then light came to know them. Like a switch being flipped, all around him immediately became adorned with light.

He could feel again, and what he felt was a harsh force driving him through what felt like a wall of complete stone. He had no body that could feel pain, but he felt that still. If he had a body, this pain could only be replicated if his flesh, blood, and bone were ripped from him in one go, over and over again. He could hear his own screams, but it brought him no relief.

* * *

After suffering that pain for what seemed like an eternity, it ceased.

Warmth and cold returned, as he could once again feel himself. The weight of his body returned to him, and he no longer felt it being torn from him. It was dark again, but there was clearly light somewhere, like it was right in front of him, but there was a film over his face…

He opened his eyes.

He was lying down on the ground, staring right into the night sky. There were no stars, as it was completely black up there. What illuminated the area was a faint white light beside him. It was a shimmering, pearlescent river. The light wasn’t particularly strong, but the man was sure that if not for this river, he wouldn’t be able to see anything.

Around him was nothing but trees. He must’ve awoke within a forest, a strange one at that. None of the trees bore any leaves, and they all seemed to be made out of a slate-like material. Though they didn’t appear to be carved from stone.

Getting up off the ground, the man hurriedly walked over to the river and knelt, gazing into its bright waters.

What?

What he saw was not his own face. It was someone much younger, maybe around their teenage years. He had long hair that came to and curled around his neck. It was an odd color, somewhere between a soft orange and a light pink. Lastly, his eyes were the color of a summer sunset, intense as they were bright.

He took a look at this body's hands, as if maybe the river’s reflection had been lying to him. Sure enough, those calloused, rough hands were not his. Looking at them, two things caught his eye. There was this bracelet, tied loosely around his right wrist by a red leather, holding a bronze-looking piece of metal the size of a large coin. On it were some scribbles he couldn’t place as any language he knew. The other was the blood dripping off his left arm.

The river’s pure waters had been tinted red, disparaging their perfect hue. Looking over to his left arm, blood was leaking down from his shoulder, onto his hand, and into the river. Whoever this was, they must’ve taken quite the beating.

Now aware of the injury, he could feel the weakness in this body and the pain in the left arm. Compared to what he just went through, this was okay. In fact, this was more than okay. Placing his good arm over the injured one, he felt around the wound, wincing as he inspected it. It was normal pain, and that meant something.

“I’m alive?”

He felt his own mouth move as they made the proper movements to produce those sounds. It was not his voice, but he was speaking normally again. Quietly, the man cheered as he celebrated his newfound life. He was no stranger to this phenomenon, as he’s read and watched stories formed around this concept.

Another world. Reincarnation.

So stuff like that really does happen in the real world, huh.

Those two were the only answers. Though, they weren’t exactly happy ones. His being in this body meant that back there, on earth, he's gone. Lying on his bed would be his now dead body. His mother would come home to find him like that.

Would she even notice? If she didn’t seriously try to wake me up, she wouldn’t even know I died until the morning.

Damn.

It was unfortunate; there was nothing he could do. There wasn’t anything he could have done either. One moment, he was reading a book, and the next thing he knew, he was dead. There were no signs. Maybe all that exhaustion had really gotten to him.

Then he had his next thought.

Could Dad… even take the news?

He had little doubt that his dad was in any healthy state. The news would kill him, that he was certain.

There was one silver lining. Maybe there was some kind of way back. If he got sent here, he could be sent out. By then, though, would they even still be alive? How many of these stories does the main character actually return home? And when they do, how long was the journey to do so?

I need to calm down. Panicking won’t get me anywhere.

The boy reached his hands into the river to splash himself with some water. He needed to settle down after all that had just happened to him. His hand pierced through the surface of the water as he made a cupping shape with it. What came out of the river was not his hands.

They had been malformed. It was like a burning sheet of paper. Starting from where his fingers should’ve been, there is a growing deletion of his hands. At the edge of the erasure were embers that did not seem to be of a combustible nature. Under his skin, he could see his skeleton darken black and crumble away the more his skin burned. The cupped water spilled out from his eroding limbs.

Instead of soothing his mind, the water caused him to spiral. He shook what remained of his hands into the air, dispersing the water as he got up and ran from the river.

He re-examines his hand, finding that the hand-erasing phenomenon seems to have stopped, as the parts that had been obliterated began to return piece by piece until they returned to their original state.
He heaves out a sigh of relief.

One wrong step and it's over, again. It’s that easy…

The boy’s fist digs right into the ground, and the thump it makes is then followed by another not of his making. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes meet with ragged knees held together by echoes of flesh that used to be present there. Raising his gaze, he meets the thing’s eyes.

It’s hideous. It's like a face stuck in a screaming expression. Its thousands of wrinkles come together to shape its angered gaze as its dark face looks down to meet with the boy’s. Its eye sockets were hollow, leaving only a gaping void for one to stare into. Protruding out from its head to chest were tufts of ashen fur that seemed to flow in the non-present wind. To complete the demon, its entire left arm was that of a harrowing blade.

There was something he had neglected to think about. Just where did he reincarnate? Finding not an ounce of humanity in the deep black eyes of this monster, the answer seemed clear.

He was in hell.

The monster thrashed at him, swinging his arm directly at the boy, attempting to skewer him in one go. Pained, the boy rolls out of the way, barely evading the attack. He then stands back up, squaring off with this creature.

Standing, he could really see just how tall this thing was. Its head brushes against the branches of the trees as it walks towards him.

This is probably what busted this kid’s arm. Looking at it, he was lucky to get away with this much! What was he even doing out here?

Looking around for his next move, he spots an axe resting inside one of the slate trees.

There!

He rushes forth, attempting to reach the axe in time as the tree itself lies far behind the boy. As he sprints, the creature follows suit.

Shit!Shit!Shit!

Each step fell faster than the last as he dashed for the tree. He could not let that creature gain on him. He had already died once, and he did not think he would get a third chance.

He reached the tree and immediately placed his good hand onto the handle, trying to pull it out.

The axe did not budge.

Cursing, he places his foot against the tree for more leverage. Behind him, the grotesque form is quick on its feet, likely owing it to its thin exterior. The creature is then present right behind him, as it focuses its gaze on his back, hungry for violence. With one last pull, the axe comes free.

Eager for blood to be spilt, the bladed arm comes down once again, slicing at the boy’s neck. Once again, he moves away from the swing, sparing his life as the blade draws a red line across his face.

With the axe in hand and the creature open, he smashes the axe onto its shoulder, etching the blade into its bone. The axe did indeed penetrate the shoulder, but that wasn’t enough to cleave through it.

The monster turns its head to once again meet his eyes as a horrible sound begins to erupt from its mouth, “GRAGHHHH!”

It’s yell pierces through the boy’s ears as air and dust flee from the creature’s mouth. The breath filled his lungs, exposing its putrid smell to him. It sent him into a coughing fit as his body pleaded with him to escape this smell. Strengthening his grip on the axe, he rips out the blade, tearing shards of black bone from its shoulder.

Axe free, he slashes into its chest, cracking its ribcage, shutting up its screams.

This isn’t going to get me anywhere. It’s a miracle I’m even alive right now, but it’ll kill me before I even do any serious damage!

He needed a plan. This lumber axe wasn’t going to cut it for much longer. Frantically, he looked around, hoping for something useful to appear.

That’s when it came to him.

Once again, he was running. Looking behind him, he confirmed that it gave chase once again. Good, he would need this. As he approached his goal, the land became brighter and brighter. He weaved through the trees, hoping for the dark trees to aid him in deterring the monster.

The monster had caught up to him, arriving at his destination. But the boy was nowhere to be seen. All that was before the creature was a shimmering river. Then a sharp blade cut against its legs.

With its balance gone, the boy took all the strength he had left and heaved his body against the monster, slamming against it in one last desperate attempt, and into the river it fell.

Turning as it fell, it looked into the eye of its prey and swung out its blade one last time. Its arm slashed through his shoulder, cutting through skin and scraping against bone. The cut wasn’t as violent as it wished, but fell to his knees the boy did.

Before him, the skeletal hunter melted into the river, as its body decomposed into ash, scattering across the river. It was over.

He was victorious. However, he did not have the luxury of celebrating his win. His head hit the ground, just an inch away from the river.

The man closed his eyes and waited for the final judgment.