Boats that pass in the night

He stumbled through the fog, still dressed in the clothes he had been wearing since he started the journey, still burned and bloody from being on a sinking ship. 

He kept walking through the fog, feet padding against stone. When the trek would end he could not say, but he knew he couldn’t stop. There was nothing for him here, and nothing to return to in the opposite direction. 

Perhaps he would wander on and on endlessly. Was that what it truly meant to be dead? He had to be dead: There was no way he survived the sinking. He knew he was dead the moment he made the decision not to get into the lifeboat. 

But he was at peace with his decision. He did it so others would live and he somehow felt deep down in his now-still heart that they were going to be fine. Even if he was condemned to a sad fate of endless wandering he would take solace in that.

Finally he stopped as he found himself at a pier. A dark body of water flowed before him and a single torch mounted on a dockpost cast out its light and was reflected back from the black river. A single boat bobbed with a hooded figure hunched in the back with a long wooden punting pole in hand. 

As the perished soul drew closer the hooded figure looked up, he was an old wizened rat with a gray muzzle, his eyes milky white. 

“I see you’ve come,” the rat said in a gravelly voice in some forgotten accent.

“Yeah” the perished soul replied. “I guess I have,” 

The boatrat held out his gnarled shriveled paw. 

“Have you the payment?” 

Reaching into the pocket of his overcoat the perished soul extracted a pair of coins and held them up. 

“When you get me to the other side.” 

“Very well,” the boatrat grunted. “Climb aboard.” 

The departed soul did so and settled in as the boatrat pushed off. 

“It is a long way to go,” the ferryrat grunted. “No return trips for you. You’ve earned your rest, and I sense you are at peace.” 

The departed soul nodded. “Yeah. I have no regrets.” The soul said, dipping his fingers in the water - expecting it to be frigid but feeling nothing. “I feel I’ve made too many return trips already.” 

“You have. I never forget a soul that I ferry across. Some make return trips, some I take to be tormented for eternity, yet others go to the place of rest. Some think they’re clever and don’t board, only to become lost.”

The departed soul looked over the gunwale of the boat and gazed into the dark waters. Flickering below the surface were flashes of other times and lives - the good times and the bad stretching on and on for eternity.

The departed soul sighed, settling in for the long ride, that’s when he saw something a boat similar to their own going the opposite way, but a few yards abreast of them. An identical boatrat was punting the boat along, with a soul sat at the bow. 

As the departed soul watched he realized he knew the other soul: someone who had died far too young and too early. 

“Hey!” the departed soul called out. 

The soul in the other boat turned and waved. “I remember you! You were so kind to me, even in those last moments.” 

The departed one smiled, it had not been a pleasant memory holding one who was dying but seeing them now and knowing their gratitude he felt happiness for it. 

“I see you’re getting a new start.” 

The other soul nodded. “Yeah, guess me dying so young had something to do with it. What about you?” 

The departed soul shook his head. “No. This is my last trip across the river.” 

“Oh, I see. How did it happen?” 

“Saving others,” the departed soul replied. “Or, at least, giving others a chance to live.”

“Then I shall not be sad, though I had hoped we might cross paths again.” 

The departed soul beamed. “Live your life, perhaps you will hear echoes of your past life and remember me. I hope you live a full life.”

“And I hope you are happy and content where you are going.”  

A final wave between the two before they both faced away, eyes set on their destinations. 

“Friend of yours?” the boatrat asked. 

“Something like that.” the departed soul replied. “He was an idealistic kid who was killed doing what he thought was right. I’m glad to see him getting another chance. Perhaps he can accomplish more than his previous life.” 

“Perhaps,” the boatrat merely grunted.

The boat ride continued for much longer, the ferryrat wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Finally he spoke. 

“We have reached the other side.” 

A dock loomed before them, and beyond it a shimmering haze like sunlight trapped in a prism.

The ferry rat reached out his paw again. “Payment,” 

The departed soul deposited the coins. “Thank you... for taking me.” 

The ferry rat twitched an ear. “Hmm, not many thank me.”   

A few grunts and the boatrat was on his way back. Must not have been any souls to go back across then, the soul thought. Turning back to the shimmer, the soul walked forward, eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness. 

A figure looked before him. She was a thing of beauty and hurt to look at, with wings and radiating light. 

“Welcome. Normally at this stage we test a soul. But you. You have nothing left to prove to us.”  

The departed soul nodded. “So what happens now?”

The angelic figure wave him ahead.  “Go. Rest. You have earned it.” 

The departed soul looked down to find his bloody and damaged clothes were replaced by white soft robes. So much light, he wasn’t used to it. 

Moving forward the light was blinding until he found himself in a meadow, green rolling hills and a stout oak tree on a hill. A babbling brook flowed not far away. Setting himself down the old soul sighed.

With the sigh he let go of everything that he was holding on to: He was safe, everything was going to be alright. He could feel it. Things were going to be alright in the land of the living, he was no longer needed. He had fulfilled his purpose, and now he could finally rest. 

He had no idea just how tired he had been. There was plenty more he could do in the afterlife, but for the moment he thought he would just sit against the tree.