Henry's River

A Story by Hayden M.

Following his brother's sudden death at the hands of a crippling illness, Henry is left with his grieving mother and younger sister. He has no friends, but finds solace in the river.

It was a beautiful spring morning. A cool breeze gently tossed my hair to the side, the crisp, clean morning air juxtaposed with the stuffy, musty chapel I'd just sat in for two hours. The only thing that kept that day from being perfect was the fact that I was attending my older brother Hunter's funeral.

The virus had been quick, ruthless, and deadly, hitting him hard one morning before taking his life around noon the next day. The neighbors had to pull me off his body so he could be properly inspected and prepared for burial.

I watched as three men garbed in black lowered the long, polished oak box. Mother started wailing, her lamenting cries shattering the mournful silence. Little Annie clung to her waist, her wide blue eyes sparkling with tears. I knew that she still didn't fully understand, nor would she for a while. But she was a human barometer. She could read a room (and a funeral) better than any four year old I'd ever known.

I hadn't said a word since we left the house to attend the funeral. My mother spent the solemn car ride to Mueller's Cemetery making vain attempts to stifle her tears, while I sat next to her with my head turned toward my lap. Even if I wanted to speak, I doubted that I could. My pain quickly gave way to a numbness both physical and emotional, a numbness that robbed me of all speech and feeling.

My lips parted slightly, as if wanting to chime in, but I closed them as quickly as they had opened. Instead, I turned away from the scene and ran back the way we'd come, tears finally leaking from my eyes. I felt every eye trained on me as I weaved around headstones and hopped the fence at the far edge of the cemetery.

“Henry, where are you going?” Mother screamed after me, her voice breaking. I didn't respond aloud, because I was certain that she knew where I was headed.

The river.

Henry turned his head to the sky, staring into its blue depths as a light wind tickled his face. He inhaled sharply, keeping his eyes trained on the sky so his other senses could step in. He felt the wind brush against his face again, heard the pines creak as the wind decided to pick up speed, caught a faint whiff of a nearby skunk ruining someone's day.

Two bluebirds carved invisible patterns in the cool air above him, their shrill cries of elation cutting through the air as they reveled in their own blissful existence. Henry admired and envied the airborne creatures, yearning for that carefree existence they were so obviously enjoying.

He took another deep breath, forced his eyes open, and lowered his head. He looked down the length of the river, following its course as it snaked off into the woods and vanished from view. Hot tears leaked from his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, but he made no move to dry them or halt their journey down his cheeks. Like the river, they would flow, uninterrupted, with an almost mechanical consistency that displayed no signs of changing.

He fell to his knees on the muddy bank and screamed, clutching the sides of his head as he roared his agony to the heavens. He toppled sideways on the river bank, his body shaking with sobs. He lay there, his eyes squeezed shut in a vain attempt to block out the world that had caused him so much pain.

After several minutes, he sat up, mud caking the right side of his face and forming dark clumps in his sandy blonde hair. He ran the back of his hand over his eyes, sniffing as he found his composure.

Henry staggered to his feet, his strength waning by the second. He hadn't slept in three days, mostly because his family was now short a brother and a father. With a heavy heart, he trudged back up the hill and walked home.

Rain fell in sheets, soaking Henry within a minute. He spat rainwater from his mouth and sprinted back up the hill, moving with a nimble grace that the dire situation demanded. Lightning ripped through the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. The deluge increased, dumping what felt like gallons of water on his head and back as he charged toward the farmhouse.

Henry reached the top of the hill, his lungs screaming for oxygen but his legs refusing to stop moving. A thin strip of old, gnarled trees separated his family's property from the river, providing cover for a few moments before tossing him back out into Mother Nature's maw.

Another flash illuminated the roiling gray clouds above, quickly followed by an ear-shattering clap of thunder. Henry increased his pace as he burst from the tree cover, his lungs screaming for a reprieve he refused to give them.

The battered farmhouse loomed into view, barely visible behind the thick curtain of precipitation. He saw his mother standing on the back porch, screaming something he couldn't hear. “I'm comin'!” he shouted back, throwing an arm up to shield his eyes from the downpour.

Then, as suddenly as it started, the rain stopped. Dark, angry clouds still hung overhead, threatening to resume the attack at any moment.

Henry knew what this abrupt lull meant, and it scared him more than anything else that had happened that day.

“Mom, get inside!” Henry yelled, running up the old wooden steps and bursting through the screen door. “Annie, head to the basement!” He yelled up the stairs, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder.

“Is the sky angry?” A small voice answered from the room to the right of the stairs. “I hear it shouting.”

“The sky is very angry. And it's not done being angry.” Annie tottered into view and began making her way down the stairs, her blue eyes wide with fear. Henry ran up the stairs and scooped her up in his arms, holding her close as he shouted, “Mom, we need to get in the basement now!” She stood just on the other side of the screen separating the kitchen from the back porch, her head turned to the sky and her arms hanging loosely at her sides.

Henry stomped down the stairs, Annie still in tow, and opened the screen door with his free hand. “Mom!” he yelled. She turned to face him, her eyes wide as saucers and her mouth slightly agape. “Now's not the time to shut down!” Henry said, grabbing her by the hand and guiding her inside. He bolted the back door behind the screen, pulled the filthy, moth-eaten curtains across the kitchen window's equally dirty panes, and flipped the light switch off as they moved from the dining room and into the living room.

A low rumble shattered the unsettling stillness, confirming Henry's fears. “Basement, now!” he cried, throwing the basement door open and ushering his family down into the musty darkness. He shot a nervous glance over his shoulder in one last attempt to see what they were truly up against.

Through the window on the opposite end of his family's old, torn couch, he saw a thick finger of swirling gray gliding along the forest's edge less than two miles away. His heart flew to his throat and the blood froze in his veins. The house.....it can't withstand that! He slammed the door and raced down the wooden stairs, his breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps as he felt his way to the back wall of the basement. He found his family, shivering in the frigid air, and held them close. All was dark, save for his own heavy breathing and the occasional question from Annie.

I stepped out of the farmhouse, the sun's brilliance nearly forcing my eyes shut. I shielded them with my hand and inspected the property from my vantage point on the raised porch. What used to be a sprawling lawn of lush grass was now a large puddle with a few stubborn blades of green protruding from its muddy surface. At the far end of the yard, a pile of fallen tree limbs blocked the opening to the forest path.

Gazing up, I found no trace or evidence of yesterday's storm. Instead, I saw a vast expanse of deep blue that was interrupted by the occasional cumulus cloud. Tranquility. Pure, unspoiled tranquility. The abrupt halt of such a violent storm, coupled with the unsettling stillness in the air, terrified me.

Suddenly, fear swelled up inside me, and a frantic thought flashed through my head. The river! I leaped off of the porch, landing in the watery lawn with a splash. I took off without a second thought, the flooded yard hindering my progress slightly.

I reached the top of the hill and turned my gaze downward toward the river, my chest heaving.

The once quiet river now churned with a very visible anger, its opaque surface mixed with white froth as it crashed over fallen trees and splintered limbs. It had swelled to over three times its size overnight, consuming copious amounts of rainwater to become the monstrous sight I beheld.

As I turned away from the flooded bank, a tear slid down my cheek. But I wasn't mourning. What I felt then was something lighter, something happier. The hand squeezing my heart finally released its grip, my stupor gave way to clarity. For the first time since Hunter died, I felt free.

I trudged back up the hill, stealing a quick backward glance before trudging back to the farmhouse. I never returned to the river.