Floating Downstream

When Hector Goff opened his eyes, he was lying on his back, floating downstream in a black river. When he looked down at himself, he noticed three very strange things: the first, that he was wearing absolutely no clothes; the second, he had no bruises or broken bones �" he could move his arms and legs about freely; third, his body was barely touching the dark and endless water. He felt as if it wasn’t the current of this abnormal river that pulled him forward, but rather, a grey, sort of see-through hand, which appeared to be made entirely of mist. If he lifted his head a bit, he could see it clearly, inches away from his feet, not touching any part of him, and yet, still pulling him forward with an unstoppable force.

He looked left, then right, and saw he was surrounded by other naked human bodies, all being pulled by misty hands down the river. They seemed to be alive. There must have been thousands of others. Although the experience was incredibly surreal, he did not feel frightened and the touch of the water was warm against his skin. He had that feeling: “this same thing has happened before,” although he thought it impossible. Maybe he had been here in a dream. Yes, that was it. He was re-dreaming. He had read about such things in a book called, Understanding Dreaming.

It made Hector rather sad, knowing soon he’d wake up to excruciating pain in his arms and legs, condemned to white plaster casts and the looks of loved ones staring down at him, shaking their heads and offering pity.

It was then that something remarkable happened. The grey hand at his feet began to pull beams of light straight out of his head. He felt as if he was letting go of heavy weights that dragged him down and had become heavier each day he’d lived. It was blissful. He watched the beams of light, like ribbons swaying to and fro, making a bridge between the hand and his head. Slowly he lost sight of who he was. At first he was Hector Goff, the 43-year-old man who’d lived in an apartment in New York City, worked as a reporter for The New York Times, had a girlfriend, and was stressed out about finding an interesting story for work and was accidentally hit by a bus yesterday and was now lying in a hospital bed. Then he was just Hector. And then he was . . . and then . . . well, he just was.

The bridge of light between the hand and his head had vanished and all Hector knew was that he was being pulled forward. He watched the hand as it closed into a fist, then became an emerald sphere with something swirling inside. The pulling sensation stopped and he just lay there, floating. He looked up and saw nothing but white. He closed his eyes and turned to golden dust.

All the others in the black river slowly crumbled away and all the shimmering piles of dust drifted upward, forming one massive cloud, which then condensed and gradually turned into a solid, golden ball. The ball hovered in the sky above the black water filled with thousands of floating emerald balls. For a few moments nothing happened. Then the water level started to drop. Down, down the horizon fell, and the emerald balls went down with it, while the large golden ball hovered in the air. All the water slowly evaporated and left nothing but little puddles here and there, and balls resting on the murky, slushy ground.

A giant was standing on the ground, dressed in sliver robes. He had long, flowing hair, each strand shining like the sun. The giant’s face was ancient and powerful like the Earth itself, and neither man-like nor woman-like. The giant’s violet irises sparkled with warmth as it raised a hand, slowly bringing the golden ball down to the ground until it lay at the giant’s bare feet. The giant picked up an emerald ball and knocked it against its hand, making a small hole in its shell large enough to peer through.

“Hector Goff,” the giant said, gazing at the memories moving around in their container like sand blown by the wind. There were many colours inside the ball. Brown and green. Lots of green. “Lots of honesty. Some for better, some for worse,” said the giant. “And orange!” The giant laughed like thunder, “Temper, sensitivity, anger!” The  giant was still and its eyes widened at what it saw. Now the giant spoke softly, almost in a whisper, fearing to mistake a colour for something it was not. “Violet,” the giant said, amazed. “True, pure violet. Only those few with three memories of violet can move on.” The giant looked back into the ball, cautiously. “Two are violet. And then . . . What is this? There is another one. Something large and overpowering. Yes, I sense violet there. And yet, it’s so faint.” Then the giant shook his head. “No,” he said. “This man will not move on. Ah, Hector. You were so close! You have one more chance.”

The giant smashed the ball onto the ground and watched it shatter. Jewels exploded from what remained, scattering in every direction. Brown ones and green ones, orange ones. And then, two small, circular violet jewels. The giant watched in horror as a black, foaming liquid bubbled inside the shattered ball, then poured into a think puddle. The giant bent down and picked up two more small, round, violet jewels out of the puddle. The giant’s head shook, sadly, looking at the violet jewels, then at the black puddle.

“Hector, you were a marvel. You had such good, beautiful things inside you. Such wonders. Miracles. Yet, they were surrounded by darkness.”

The giant waved a hand, pulling fragments of gold out of the large, golden ball. These formed a cloud, then floated upwards. The giant watched the dust as it travelled high above, then disappeared. “Goodbye, my child. When we meet again, you will not be able to go back. This is your last chance. But I have hopes for you.”

 

Loud wails filled the hospital room as a woman and man held each other close, crying tears of joy over the miracle that had just been performed. The nurse handed the baby over to its mother.

“It’s a girl,” she said, in awe.

An old, weary soul looked through the eyes of an infant at its mother, remembering all the other times it had been born. Then the memories vanished.

“Hello,” said the soothing voice of the baby’s mother. “Hello Reyna.”

And so Reyna was born.

            

Reviews

[Fishbear]

That was really impressive writing- all your sentences flowed really well and pulled me into the story even more. I loved the whole concept and it was definitely an interesting read, with the giant, the jewels and how all his beautiful potential was surrounded by darkness. The ending was really good and overall, the story was amazing. Love it

[Blackcatattack]

Thank you very much.