River stones

The River wove like an opalescent snake right through the seams of the world. One side of its banks skimmed the edge of the Earth’s sky whilst the other bordered the beginning of the galaxies beyond. It was along the latter that I spent my days, tending to the fertile soil and polishing the stones scattered along the River’s bed. 

The afternoon light shone golden here, fracturing like honeycomb as the sun bled through the River and into the Earth’s atmosphere. I ambled along the River’s edge, my feet flirting with the shallow ripples. The breeze tumbled through the white cotton of my shift but the sun shone too warm for it to leave goosebumps in its wake. My eyes wandered back to the River stones. The stones were different here than on Earth. They claimed the memories of human souls that had passed away, so their conscious was cleansed and ready for the next life. All were different sizes but with the same flat, round circumference and atop each one, the surface glimmered like a mirage. 

Although, I had heard whispers that their real beauty came alive under the quiet glow of the moon. When the dazzling surface sharpened to reveal the precious memories stored within. A hidden, secret part of me yearned to witness this twilight unveiling. To share the secrets all those memories would disclose. I could not remember a life before this one nor could any other of the River folk I knew. What if my memories slept within a River stone? Dangerous curiosity unfurled within my chest at the possibility but I didn’t dare let the emotion linger long. It was forbidden to touch the stones at night, so I was careful to wind that curiosity back up tight.

I realised that I had been staring too long at the rippling surface of the River, deep in thought, when movement darted in the corner of my eye. The other River folk wove in winding trails towards the meadows where we laid out heads to rest each night. The light had dimmed and when I turned towards its source, I found the sun dipped almost completely below the horizon. It’s setting rays cast strands of peach and gold to ribbon across the River’s surface. 

Reluctantly, I trudged out of the water and onto the River’s sandy banks to join with the others. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness chasm in my chest as I saw the contented smiles creasing their lips as they wandered off to bed. I was sure none of them felt the same unrest hot-wiring their nerves at night, forbidding them from sleep. So sure that none else woke from the siren call of the stones and had to plug their fingers in their ears to refrain from answering their call. And tonight was no different except when it was. 

When the meadow quieted until only the sound of blissful snoring could be heard, that is when they sung to me. A quiet choir of voices, young and old, male and female; and together they serenaded me from sleep. On my back, I laid amongst the grass and listened to their tempting melody. It always brought images that flickered in and out of my mind like stars on a cloudy night. I saw red gum boots splashing in muddy puddles. Blonde hair shining in the sun. The thick branches of an oak tree getting smaller and smaller as the grass rose up to greet me. But I was never sure if those memories were from a life before the River or just the fantastical illusions conjured from the stones siren song. And if I had lived a life before the River, didn’t I deserve to know if my memories laid within the stones? Surely there was a reason that I was the one they sung to?

Something finite in me stirred at the thought and when I looked up at the white coin of the moon, I felt it settle in my bones. I couldn’t lie here, tormented night after night any more. I had to know. 

Bright moonlight carved my path through the sleeping meadow. My feet would have known their way to the River if I’d been blindfolded but still, I was grateful for the moon and stars as my silent companions.

I tiptoed through the sleeping River folk and aside from their chests rising in irregular unison and the breath softly leaving their lips, not a single person stirred. Although, above me I could have sworn I heard the stars whispering excitedly amongst themselves as I went. 

Within minutes, my toes curled in the cool, damp sands of the bank and before I knew it, I was sprinting towards the water. The heady relief mixing with the conscious knowledge of my rebellion made my head spin but still I craved more. A bolt of excitement shot through me when the water brushed along the tops of my knees. I’d never travelled this far into the River before. Thankfully the water still gleamed just as clear as it was along the bank. I nearly giggled in delight only to cup my hands against my mouth, fearing I’d be heard. Even though around me everybody slept, the space felt electric and alive. I waded in the River, not quite believing the freedom of so many memories and possibilities laid before me. 

I leaned down, trailing my fingers across the stones but stopped when I came across a stone no bigger than my thumb and wedged between two others. I plucked the pebble out from beneath the water and nestled it in the palm of my hand. I usually didn’t like to see stones this little, they often felt bittersweet. For the smaller the stone, the shorter the lifespan of the soul and the less memories that were housed within.

Still, I brought it closer to my chest, tilting it in the glow of the moon in order to better see the memories stored inside. The pebble appeared to gobble up the silvery light and soon flickered with blurred images. Heart hiding in my throat but captivated all the same, I watched as the memories sharpened and I got my first glimpse of this soul stone’s life. The soul inside this stone lay on their back, staring up at a rotating dial above their head. A fluffy lamb, a yellow star and a crescent moon spun in and out of focus. I lifted the stone up to my ear and smiled as I heard the bubbling sound of infant laughter mingled with the tinkling of bells. 

Placing down the pebble, I sauntered back over to the bank where a willow tree’s leafy tendrils curved towards the River as if in need of drink. In the shadow, the stones shimmered stronger and my eyes caught on one in particular that was half-blanketed in dark green moss. Bending down so that I knelt with my knees in the tepid water, I placed my palm to the large stone. I marvelled at the length of life this soul must have lived because this stone was larger than my head. 

But when my fingertips reached out to brush away the moss, they snagged on a hidden crack down the centre. I startled when upon my touch, a tremor reverberated from the crack in the stone. Snatching my hand from the water, I cradled it to my chest and eyed the stone wearily. I’d never seen a cracked River stone before, let alone one that had moved on its own. 

Looking over my shoulder, the River’s edge and beyond remained mercifully empty. My heart thudded painfully as I let out a shaky breath. I was still alone. Turning back to the water’s surface, I felt a gentle tug in my chest as if the stone were attached with an invisible string to my ribcage. Gathering my courage, I reached once more towards the stone. This time I let the stone thrum and waited as the glitching memories pixelated into view. As they did, I gasped and fell backside first into the water. For a second I just sat there, with my cotton shift floating around me. Until a tear slid untethered down my cheek, because the person reflected back in the mirrored face of the River stone… was me.