The River Remembers

The river whispered that night.
Its current moved slow, heavy, almost alive—as if it had been waiting.

A boy stood at its edge, now grown into a young man. Years ago, this same river had nearly taken his life. He still remembered the icy grip of water pulling him down, the burning in his chest, and the sudden, miraculous rescue that spared him.

Tonight, he returned, hoping for peace.

The air was thick with mist, curling low over the black surface. The moonlight shimmered, but not enough to chase away the unease in his chest. Every step closer made his heart pound louder, as though the river itself remembered his fear.

And then he heard it.

A small, panicked cry.

On the far bank, a little girl—no older than eight—was caught in the weeds near the rocks, her tiny hands flailing as the current tugged her toward the deep.

The boy—no, the man—ran. His shoes splashed in the mud as memories of his own drowning clawed at him. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The river stirred.
The water rose higher, swirling unnaturally, almost as if it were alive. Waves formed with no wind, pulling the girl further out. It wasn’t just water—it was something else. Something watching. Something waiting.

He dove in.

The cold struck him like a thousand knives.
He pushed through the current, lungs burning as he fought the pull that had nearly killed him years ago. The river resisted him, dragging him back, but he reached her—caught her trembling arm—and pulled her against his chest.

For a moment, he thought he saw faces in the water. Eyes, mouths, hands—reaching, clawing—furious that he dared to steal from them again.

He kicked hard, broke the surface, and gasped. The girl clung to him, sobbing. Behind them, the river writhed and churned like a living beast, furious but retreating.

He dragged them both to shore, collapsing in the wet grass, his heart hammering in his ears. The girl coughed, then whispered a shaky “thank you.”

He looked back.
The river was calm again. Silent. As if nothing had happened.

But he knew better.

The river remembered him.
And now, it would remember her too.