I shall tell you a tale, an apologue that I have realized through childhood fear. If you value your life, you will heed my warnings and never lay eyes upon the dreaded place I am to tell of.

As a boy, I lived not too far from a river. Several miles of rugged dirt road and rusted barbwire fencing, quarantined me from its shores. The river was as deep as it was wide… and it was surely too wide to swim. The current churned reckless and untamable like watery stallions fighting over themselves for breaths of air. The river was said to be stained evil, and few villagers partook to its waters during day… never during night.

            One unforgettable evening, my father came home quite and somber. He even forgot to say goodnight when he ordered me to bed. After many yawns had crossed my lips, all but one candle was blown out and the house was hushed completely quite; all except for the low talking voices of my parents that echoed down the hall. Now normally, my little ears were good at hearing the whispers of my parents, especially when they thought I was long asleep. Although, this particular night they talked exceptionally low, and I struggled to hear their whispers.

            The name itself scared me when I heard it… Ragdoll River. I didn’t really know why. I guess it’s name was never much said, and I guess I’d gotten used to not hearing it. The river had always been forbidden but nobody seemed to want to tell why. The only audible phrase my ever-straining ears could hear was the low voice of my father saying,

“Two are missing. She stole them.”

I heard the shallow breath of my mother. The breath she took in through her nose and didn’t seem to let out. It was a breath she only took when bravely fighting back tears. Then the candlelight was blown out. The faint light that stretched into my room was instantly gobbled up by darkness. I was left laying on my back gazing up at the pale face of the moon that peered into my window.

             I knew then what I was going to do. I could somehow hear the raging waters of Ragdoll River call my name. The moonlight spreading through the window lit a path from my bed to the door, and seemed to give me an ordinance from the heavens. My bare feet tiptoed against the wooden floor of our house and each snitching plank seemed to cry out to my parents as I slowly crept to the door.