The Ferryman stood at the dock, staring out at the fog. The paths through the channel were narrow and rocky, requiring a skilled navigator.
The leader of a party of travelers approached nervously.
“Coin for passage, two silver each,” the Ferryman said.
“Er, in the pub they said you were…” she stammered. He cocked his head and held out a gloved hand.
The Ferryman poled his little boat silently out into the dark. He was the best, but he didn’t socialize. He couldn’t rest until he repaid his debt to those he’d drowned in life, two coins at a time.

“Dock,” by Kate Ter Haar, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

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Everyday Drabbles © 2019-2026 Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

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