26 April - 15 minute fiction friday
Everyone had heard the stories, wild tales by crackling camp fires or kitchen stations of city offices, all with their minor alterations as absurd as the last.
'The Ferryman' they called him. He took the souls, they’d say, of all those who trespassed on his territory, those who wronged him, leaving their bodies gauntly wandering the earth behind them.
It was nonsense of course; I had met this man on my travels years before, known him.
He made sure that the stories were heard, feared, every single wild variant of them.
It was essential, to keep him, and them, safe.