Free Five Stories for the Dark Months by Katherine Traylor Page A

his
chest, which must have taken out at least one vital organ.
“Bastards were waiting at the river.” Blood flowed through his
teeth as he spoke. “We—” Then his eyes widened, and he too faded
away.
    Desperate, Sabrina turned to the
old round woman, who was watching her sympathetically. “What’s
going on? Why—”
    “Don’t worry, dear.” The woman
patted her hand with broad, soft fingers. “They’ll all come back
next year, you know. You will, too.”
    “I...” Her brain was spinning. She
shook her head, but couldn’t clear it. “What do you
mean?”
    “Well, it’s just the one night,
you know—before the winter starts. When the veils are thin.” She
yawned, smiled apologetically, and stood. “But I’d probably better
go, too—I’m getting sleepy. Lovely to meet you...”
    “Wait,” Sabrina said, reaching for
her hand. “Please—”
    But the old woman was already
strolling towards the torches, nodding goodbye to the few remaining
guests. Her wide back swayed, and her brown skirts rustled across
the ground like leaves. Before Sabrina could stand, the woman had
left the campground, and vanished into the darkness of the
woods.
    In a few minutes, all the other
guests had left—fading like mirages, or simply walking away.
Sabrina could only watch, pinned in place by shock or confusion or
whatever she’d been drinking. Finally, as the sky began to lighten,
she was alone, still sitting on her log beside the abandoned
fire.
    Or almost alone. There was Cyrus,
standing at the edge of the campground, surveying the site with
satisfaction.
    As if a spell had broken, Sabrina
finally stood. “Cyrus! What happened?” She ran over to him,
tripping on feet gone suddenly numb.
    He smiled distantly. “Hello,
Sabrina. How’d you like the party?”
    “It—where is
everybody?”
    “Oh, they all went home. Back to
where they died, you know. It’s almost sunrise.”
    “To where...” Her voice guttered
like a candle.
    Cyrus laughed. “Oh, come on. Don’t
tell me you didn’t guess?”
    “You mean they were...”
    “Sure.” He gave her a pitying
look. “You already knew there was no one over here—no one human,
anyway. Where’d you think they all came from?”
    Sabrina shook her head, sure there
must have been something in the drink. “But... How do I get
home?”
    “Oh, you don’t.”
    “What?”
    “You are home, now.” Cyrus
gestured around him at the abandoned campground. “You paid the
toll, remember? Drank the brew, ate the food? It’s a one-way
trip—you’re one of them now. If I were you, I’d just get used to
being dead.”
    “I...
but...” Dead. The
word echoed in her mind like a church bell. “But... you
didn’t... I didn’t... why did you bring me here?”
    “Because you wanted to come,” he
said, smiling. He leaned close, and pressed a chaste kiss against
her cheek. “I’m an equal-opportunity ferryman—I’ll take anyone
over, as long as the toll gets paid.” He patted her cheek, then
stepped away. “And it was a good party. But it’s over,
now."
    Her mouth opened. The words fell
out of her head, and she just stuttered. “I—but—we—”
    “It’s not so bad, being dead—from
what I hear, anyway. And you picked a good place. The river’s
lovely, and you might even find some company if you look. If all
else fails, you’ll see them all at the next party.” Then he yawned,
stretching his exquisite muscles like a sleepy cat. “Afraid I’ve
got to go. Got a drowning to take care of tomorrow—today, that
is—and then a suicide after that. No rest for the ferryman.” He
grinned. “Later, Sabrina.”
    She reached for his hand, but he
was already gone.
    It was getting lighter, and fog was
rising from the dawn-touched river. Sabrina watched the moon set
behind the trees, and listened to the calls of awakening birds. The
torches went out one by one, and the embers of the bonfires slowly
turned to ashes.
     
    ~}*{~
     
    Boon
    October 2012
    Table of