Black River

It is nearly pitch black, streetlights barely glinting through thick strands of moisture. The wind is blowing strong enough it makes the rain appear to come flying in from the side. Tonight is one of those nights that makes an umbrella pointless, nothing but the top of your head will be protected anyway. No one who has any choice in the matter is stirring, cars parked safely in garages and driveways. I travel along the road, watching fog begin to wisp up from the asphalt, creating eerie characters in the dark. Slowly, the world is transforming. The buildings and vehicles are smudging into a dark landscape that mixes with the trees and creates an evil forest from a fairy tale. The dim streetlights are growing halos in the fog, becoming will-o-wisps, come to summon you off your path and into evil hands. Through all of this haze runs the river. Where there was asphalt, there is now churning black water, shining like a beetle wing and running swiftly. Not even the will-o-wisps dare to cross the dark expanse and the forest, too, keeps its distance from the roiling waters. Slowly, I follow the river, careful that the darkness does not overtake me. Overhead lightning flashes and gets absorbed into the river, even as it outlines the forest to either side of me, but the water is too dark and deep to reflect the brightness. It feels like forever but finally, the river brings me home. In the morning, the forest will be gone, once again replaced with buildings and cars and other modern things, but for this moment I connect to the old world. The world of magic, and evil, and wonder still exists along side us, but only on nights like this can it cross over and be seen.