Chapter 5: The Riverbank Trial

Uncle Wayne glanced at me, then turned and walked out the gate.

He gave me a quick, worried look—like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Then he was gone, leaving me alone with Leonard and Aunt Brenda.

After he left, Leonard came over to me and said:

"Ethan, your Uncle Darrell was cleaning the riverbank yesterday, and by night he was targeted by evil spirits.

I think what happened to him is connected to the riverbank.

Everything has a cause.

If we don’t resolve the cause, even an expert can’t save your uncle."

He spoke low and serious, the kind of tone that made me shiver. Aunt Brenda hovered nearby, wringing her hands, eyes darting between us.

Uncle Darrell had clearly stopped breathing—could he really come back to life?

I was doubtful, so I frowned at Leonard and asked:

"Grandpa Leonard, what do you need me to do?"

Leonard looked up at the midday sun and said:

"I want you... to put on Darrell’s clothes, hold three candles, and sit by the riverbank until sunset."

I was stunned for a moment and asked:

"Why sit by the riverbank?

Will this really save my uncle?"

"Yes."

Leonard explained:

"Darrell just stopped breathing. To keep the reapers from taking his soul, someone has to pretend to be him and confuse them.

You sit there until sunset. By then, the expert should arrive."

He handed me Darrell’s old flannel shirt and jeans, the ones he always wore fishing. The candles were stubby and misshapen, wax dripping down the sides. Aunt Brenda pressed them into my hand, her eyes pleading. She offered me a lucky rabbit’s foot and a granola bar for the road, her voice trembling with hope.

Though I was skeptical, seeing how serious he was, I didn’t argue. I just nodded and followed Aunt Brenda into the house.

She helped me change, fussing over the buttons, her hands trembling. The clothes smelled like river water and campfire smoke. She hugged me tight before letting me go, whispering, "Come back safe, Ethan."

Soon, I changed into Darrell’s clothes, took three lit candles, and hurried to the riverbank.

The walk felt longer than usual. Every step, the candles dripped wax onto my fingers, stinging a little. The sun was high, the air thick and still. I could hear frogs croaking, the distant whine of a speedboat upstream, and the sweet scent of honeysuckle drifting on the breeze.

After about half an hour, I arrived at the mouth of the West Fork.

The candles in my hand were almost burned out.

Sitting in the shade beneath the maple trees by the river, I stared at the clear water and frowned again.

What had Uncle Darrell provoked?

Could he really come back to life?

The river water was crystal clear, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Cattails waved in the breeze, turtles basked on a half-sunken log, and bass jumped in the shallows.

Why did Leonard say Darrell’s trouble was linked to this river?

Could sitting here really fool the reapers?

I shifted on the damp ground, feeling the rough bark of the maple against my back. The river sparkled in the sunlight, dragonflies darting over the surface. I tried to quiet my mind, but doubts gnawed at me, recalling local ghost stories told around campfires and wondering if I’d end up as one of them.