Life, you see, is all about balance, a delicate dance between body and soul. A perfect harmony that needs both to flourish. In this world, and maybe the next, the River Obice is the stuff of legends—a mystical waterway said to bridge the realms of the living and the afterlife. People speak of it in hushed whispers, as if fearing to disturb the very forces it embodies. It’s a gate, like any other, passable when open, but once it shuts, it’s a prison, like some kind of semi-permeable membrane, keeping souls trapped.
The sun hung high in the sky, casting its warm embrace upon us—a trio of adventurous souls. My name’s Alex, and I’m the one who usually gets us into wild escapades, the kind you remember forever. Then there’s Ben, our brainiac with a wild mop of dark hair, the one who knows the ins and outs of the great outdoors. And last but not least, Charlie, the prankster with an infectious laugh that could brighten even the gloomiest of days.
We were on a hiking trip to quench our thirst for adventure, to explore the unknown. Each of us brought a different kind of energy to our friendship, and it was that very diversity that bound us together.
We had our sights set on the legendary River Obice, a place that had intrigued us since childhood. The deeper we hiked into the forest, the denser the foliage became. The chorus of chirping birds and rustling leaves seemed to welcome us, promising an adventure like no other.
Finally, after hours of trudging through the woods, we arrived at the mystical river. Its waters shimmered with an otherworldly glow, reflecting the warm hues of the setting sun. The irresistible call of its enigmatic depths drew us in, and we couldn’t resist taking a dip in the crystalline waters.
As we frolicked and splashed, completely oblivious to the secrets hidden within the river’s depths, the world around us began to change. The sky darkened ominously, and a low rumble pierced the air. Fear crept into our hearts as we exchanged uneasy glances. We had heard stories about the unpredictable nature of the River Obice, but what happened next exceeded our wildest imaginations.
In an instant, torrential rain fell from the heavens, drenching us to the bone. The sky unleashed its fury, and the once-calm river transformed into a raging beast. We fought against the powerful current, struggling to find higher ground. Laughter had turned into desperate shouts as the water threatened to consume us.
Hours later, I awoke, soaked and shivering on the riverbank. Confusion and dread filled my heart as I realized that Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Ben, conscious but in pain, clutched his injured arm. The River Obice had turned from a source of wonder into a treacherous force that had swept us away from our carefree existence and into a nightmarish journey filled with unanswered questions.
Our priority was clear—to find Charlie, our lost comrade. He was one of us, part of the trio that had shared countless adventures and laughs. Panic still pulsed through my veins as we traced the path of the River Obice along its winding bank.
The torrential flood had swept away our belongings, leaving them scattered along the riverbank. It was a grim breadcrumb trail marking our harrowing journey, but it also hinted at the path we should follow. We had no other option.
Ben’s condition was worsening. His arm, injured during our escape, had become a dead weight, slowing him down considerably. Every step we took was fraught with worry, and our calls for Charlie echoed through the dense forest.
As we pressed on, the world around us seemed to grow increasingly surreal. The verdant foliage was now shrouded in an eerie mist, and the once-familiar sounds of nature had given way to a haunting silence.
Then, as if materializing from the mist itself, we encountered a figure—a pale and haggard character whose features were impossible to discern. Fear clawed at our hearts as we approached, and we cautiously asked if they had seen someone, praying for any news of Charlie and hoping for first aid for Ben.
The pale-looking character pointed a bony finger in a direction and muttered cryptic words we couldn’t quite make out. Our desperation translated into urgency, and we implored them to speak more clearly.
With a voice that sent shivers down our spines, the pale-looking character said, “One of you is already lost to the river, but there’s a chance to save one more.”
Its enigmatic words hung in the air, confusing us further. What did it mean by “lost to the river”? And why did they speak of saving one more? With no answers forthcoming, we reluctantly followed the direction indicated by the mysterious figure, driven by a blend of hope and dread as we continued our desperate quest to find Charlie and ensure Ben’s survival.
We followed the cryptic guidance of the pale-looking character through the strange, mist-covered forest. The air seemed to thicken with each step, and the feeling of being watched never left us.
And then, a miraculous sight—it was Charlie, our lost friend! But something was horribly amiss. Charlie was waist-deep in the River Obice, struggling against the relentless current, his eyes fixed on something beneath the surface. We called out to him, shouted his name with all the strength we had left, but he remained oblivious to our presence.
We ran towards him, frantic with fear and desperation. And as we got closer, the shocking truth unveiled itself—Charlie was trying to save someone from drowning.
That someone was me.
I met his gaze, and the terror in his eyes mirrored my own. But it was too late. I looked back to check on Ben, only to find that he was lagging behind. Standing ominously behind him was the pale-looking character we had encountered earlier.
Ben’s face was slowly losing its defining features, fading into a pallid, indistinct mask. Panic surged through me as I screamed out to him, but my voice fell upon deaf ears.
As the darkness closed in on me, I lost consciousness.
When I awoke, the world was a blurry haze. Beside me lay Charlie, his face etched with guilt and sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Alex,” he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth. “I couldn’t save Ben from the strong current of the river.”
The reality of the situation hit me like a crushing wave. Ben was gone, claimed by the relentless river. Grief and despair washed over me, leaving me utterly broken.
In the distance, we heard the shouts of a search party traversing the riverbanks, calling out Ben’s name. But we knew, deep down, that it was too late. The River Obice had claimed its toll, and our lives would never be the same again.
Ben’s whole body was never found. The searchers only found his arm crushed and separated from his body by the boulders brought by the torrent. It lay discovered, like it was reaching for someone else’s hand.