Styx

Curiously enough, the cemetery backs onto a river. The maps call it "Vicar", after the Vicar John Roberts. He led the first expedition out this way in the 1700s. The cemetery was built four years later. Three men died building the Church; the funeral was held in the only other completed building - the Tavern.

Years ago, before I left, I'd come down here on the weekends and sit by dad's grave, right next to the river. Usually I'd read. Fairytales and mythology mostly. When I was old enough to work, I saved and bought a portable radio. Dad used to take me to sporting matches back in the day; I sat by him later and listened to games being called on my radio.

I used to tell dad that the river should be called the Styx. He would have laughed at that. Kids would even build rafts, in the summer. My friends and I did it, one year when we were old enough to know better. We got to the middle of the river and I stood up and proclaimed that I was Charon, ferryman of the dead, and would be taking a cover charge from all who crossed.

There is a bridge, right on the edge of town. No cover charge, but it's one way, so you have to be watchful. Crossing the river takes you to the highway and eventually to the city. The other way takes you out bush. Well, further out bush. Last time I crossed the bridge out of town, I stopped on the other side. Got a picture, had one last look around, and took off. Had my grand adventure; living in the city, studying, drinking, working, partying. Made it through two degrees and a Masters.

I came back; every change I got to escape the big smoke, I took. Stayed with Mum and visited everyone. Guess it's fitting, this time I'm staying by myself and visiting Mum and Dad.

The town hasn't changed much. Aside from all the solar panels, everything's pretty much the way it was. The whole town still turns out to the cemetery for a funeral. We all still wear black. The closest living relatives still get the first handful of dirt; the first to say goodbye. That dirt's still hard to wash off.

And the river still flows.

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Yay for stories! I had an urge to write something vague and quasi-rambling. Oddly enough, I had every intention of going into more detail, but it didn't seem to need it.