Reaping

From beneath my hood I peer out beyond the boat, beyond the bank of the dark waters, out to where the cloak of nightfall refuses to lift, where the ravens forever more pick at fresh carrion and the worms feast upon their leftovers. Out to where the landscape is strewn with the bones of the forgotten dead and the horizon is painted with the mournful palette of the human soul.

Out to where the hapless clamor along the banks, waiting for an absolution, screaming out for me to bring them aboard. Out to where their minds can only conceive of me as their savior, where they languish over my next arrival, praying I've come for them at last. Out to where they torture themselves and forsake one another, pleading for a rescue. Out to where they all must wait for their time to come, save for one.

For on this night there is only one worthy of my accompaniment. And the hour is nigh to take the worthy upon the dark waters, to float them into the cloak of nightfall, cast their remains to the carnivorous, strew their bones across the land and add their soul to the horizon.