I was digging through some old documents and ran across a short story that I spontaneously wrote as a freshman. It was not for an assignment for any class. It was a moment of inspiration. I came home from class one day and typed it out in one sitting. I may have done some minor editing but essentially it came straight out without prodding or apparent purpose. For some reason as I reread it today it still brings back powerful sentiments. I dare not study it too much for fear of losing those sentiments but in any case I thought I would record this small blurb of my past within the towers of these proceedings.<\/p>\n
Always Room for one More<\/strong><\/p>\n The old ferryman woke to the sounds of the bells. Only it wasn\u2019t just the bells in the local church it was the bells from the entire town. The old man quickly rose to his feet. Pulling a well-worn coat around his stringy form he exited his small comfortable cabin on the shores of the river. Turning to the town he was immediately entranced by the glow of a hundred houses lit with the light of a million flames. The screams in the distance hardly seemed real as he stood there faced with the destruction of the great city. The street was filled with people; some running from the blaze while others with buckets in hand headed toward the inferno. Two blocks away a house suddenly caught fire and burst into the newest and brightest of the hundred burning buildings.<\/p>\n A man grabbed him from behind. \u201cAre you the ferryman?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-yes\u201d uttered the old man.<\/p>\n \u201cGood, quickly now, we need to cast off. The ferryman turned to the river of his livelihood and saw his old ferry nearly filled with people. Several men had the line in hand and were trying to undo the knots.<\/p>\n \u201cWait,\u201d he called, \u201cLet me get those\u201d He laid hold upon the complex knots and with deft finger pulled the knot out in seconds. He jumped down to the dock and moved rapidly over to the other line working the magic of experience on the carefully crafted knot there as well. Several other people were working there way down the dock<\/p>\n \u201cIs there room for a few more?\u201d one of them called out, still coming toward them. \t\u201cYes\u201d, replied the ferryman, \u201cthere is always room for one more on my boat while I am here.\u201d So the extra people climbed aboard. The ferry was packed but the people shuffled around and somehow everyone fit. The ferryman climbed around over to the oar and started pushing off.<\/p>\n \u201cWait for us\u201d a voice cried, the roar of the fires drowning out all other sound. It was a young man and his new wife clutching a blanket about her. A few of the men grumbled about there not being enough room but the ferryman was quick to pull them aboard.<\/p>\n \u201cThere is always room for one more while I am here.\u201d He said somewhat pointedly. The ferry was completely free of its moorings on and had begun to drift slowly away from the dock. The houses a mere block away had begun their first fiery throes as the element of light wrought itself into the timbers.<\/p>\n A splash on the back of the boat announced the arrival of the next three people: two young men and a woman of about the same age. The momentary disturbance caused a ripple of movement on the crowded vessel as hands reached down to pull their fellow passengers aboard. It was a very cool night so blankets were quickly passed around to help the water-chilled people.<\/p>\n An old woman was the next person to find her way out of burning city to the old wooden dock. The ferryman asked no questions he merely offered her a hand and she crowded her way on to the boat. An antsy man near the back of the ferry grumbled, \u201cThere\u2019s always room for one more on this boat\u201d as he was pushed a little harder into the middle-aged woman standing next to him.<\/p>\n Finally the ferryman had his hands once more on the oar and the ferry began to slowly pull further from the dock. When it was three feet away a voice called out from shore.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t leave us, we can pay you well!\u201d A banker from the other side of town had somehow found his way there with his young daughter and his wife. They looked exhausted from wandering through the streets and extreme lack of sleep. Their nice clothes were covered in ashes and the man was desperately grasping a few thin pieces of paper.<\/p>\n The ferryman dug his oar into the soft sand of the river and pointed to the plank that lay on the dock. \u201cThere is still room for you on my boat, and there is no price but discomfort.\u201d The plank was quickly pushed over to the ferry and three more bodies joined the mass on the small, square ferry. The people had to hold on to each other to keep from falling off. If one should fall several who depended on him for balance would also fall. The ferryman was perched near the oar holding onto the oar lock for balance. A man behind him also held onto the back of this shirt to keep him from plunging into the watery darkness.<\/p>\n The house next door to the ferryman\u2019s suddenly burst into a ball of fire as only wood dried for scores of years can. Light fell upon everyone in the boat illuminating their faces as they all stared at the city in awe. The head of the ferryman silhouetted by the flames bent down as he focused on the oar. He pushed on the oar to start the ferry moving once more then pulled it out of the mud. The water lapped onto the edge of the ferry soaking the feet of the passengers on the edge.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a good thing nobody is still behind us; anymore and this boat would be a bathtub.\u201d remarked the man holding the back of the ferryman.<\/p>\n \u201cMuch more weight and we wouldn\u2019t make it over the sandbars\u201d admitted the ferryman as he gazed intently into the black waters. Then he saw something move in the inky darkness. A burst of light from his burning house reflected on the water where he saw a small boy. The ferryman quickly looked up and saw the small boy standing at the end of the dock with his small deep eyes gazing after them. The ferryman quickly dug his oar into the river once more, stopping the ferry.<\/p>\n \u201cWe can\u2019t go back, it\u2019s upriver and the fire is too close\u201d said the man behind him.<\/p>\n \u201cWe can\u2019t go back, but I can\u201d said the ferryman with a different kind of fire burning in his eyes. The gap between the closest corner of the boat and the dock was nearly eight feet. \u201cI need your help\u201d said the ferryman, looking back at the man who held his shirt. \u201cYou need to get these people across the river\u201d The man nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cBut what about you?\u201d he asked although he knew the answer. The ferryman grasped the oar with all his wiry strength and flung himself toward the dock. He didn\u2019t quite make it but he was close enough to grab hold and pull himself up. The small boy smiled at him as the old man clabbered, dripping onto the dock. \u201cThere is still room for one more on my boat\u201d said the ferryman as he gathered the small boy into his arms. \u201cCatch him\u201d he called across to the strong man who was none guiding the boat. With that he threw the boy into the air as his house began collapsing behind him.<\/p>\n The strong man pulled the small boy onto the boat with a grunt and reached out ready to catch the old man. But the oar had slipped when the small boy had landed and the ferry began once more its slow journey down river.<\/p>\n \u201cWorry not\u201d cried out the aged ferryman as the flames began to lick at the tar covered dock. \u201cThere was only room for one more\u201d He turned and faced the flame as the ferry slowly crawled into the cool darkness of the river. His eyes reflected into the burning city a light far brighter and far hotter then the fires of a thousand burning cities. With a sorrowing look of understanding at the fallen city a few small tears fell from his burning eyes.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I was digging through some old documents and ran across a short story that I spontaneously wrote as a freshman. It was not for an assignment for any class. It was a moment of inspiration. I came home from class one day and typed it out in one sitting. I may have done some minor […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-349","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2xIrS-5D","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/blog.riley.rackliffe.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/349","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/blog.riley.rackliffe.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/blog.riley.rackliffe.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blog.riley.rackliffe.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blog.riley.rackliffe.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=349"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/blog.riley.rackliffe.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/349\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/blog.riley.rackliffe.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=349"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blog.riley.rackliffe.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=349"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blog.riley.rackliffe.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=349"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}