FROM KAIMA’S DIARY
👇👇👇
In the quiet village of Eldermoor, nestled between ancient oaks and mist-laden hills, there existed a peculiar tradition. Every year, on the eve of the Harvest Moon, the villagers gathered at the crumbling stone bridge that spanned the River Ebon. They carried lanterns, their flames flickering like lost souls seeking solace.
The bridge was said to be a threshold—a place where the living touched the hem of eternity. Elders whispered that the veil between worlds grew thin on this night, allowing glimpses of what lay beyond. The young scoffed, dismissing it as folklore, but secretly, they wondered.
Nicole, a curious girl with eyes the colour of twilight, had lost her grandmother to the river’s swift current. Her grief was a silent ache, and she yearned for one last conversation, one final embrace. So, on that moon-kissed night, she joined the villagers at the bridge.
The air hummed with anticipation. The lanterns cast elongated shadows, and the river murmured secrets. As midnight approached, the bridge quivered, its stones sighing under the weight of memories. The villagers held their breath.
And then, it happened.
A figure materialized—a Ferryman clad in tattered robes, his face obscured by a hood. His eyes glowed like dying embers. He extended a bony hand, beckoning. “Step forth,” he rasped. “Cross the bridge, and you shall glimpse eternity.”
Nicole hesitated. Fear and longing warred within her. She stepped onto the moss-covered stones, her lantern trembling. The world blurred—a tapestry of memories, regrets, and half-forgotten dreams. She glimpsed her grandmother’s face, etched in the moonlight.
“Speak,” the Ferryman commanded. “Ask your question.”
Nicole’s voice trembled. “Is she at peace?”
The Ferryman’s eyes softened. “Peace is a river,” he said. “Sometimes turbulent, sometimes calm. Your grandmother dances along its currents, weaving stories into the stars.”
Nicole wept. “Can I see her?”
The Ferryman nodded. “For a heartbeat,” he whispered. “But remember, mortal child, glimpses come with a price.”
Nicole stepped closer, her lantern casting ripples on the water. The veil shimmered, revealing her grandmother—a wisp of silver hair, and eyes filled with love. Their gazes locked across realms, and Nicole’s heart swelled.
“Remember,” the Ferryman intoned, “the price.”
Nicole hesitated. “What price?”
He leaned closer, his breath icy. “A memory,” he said. “A cherished moment. Give it willingly, and you shall touch eternity.”
Nicole closed her eyes. She remembered laughter by the hearth, her grandmother’s hands shaping dough into sweet pastries. She whispered, “Take it.”
The veil rippled, and Nicole stepped through. For a heartbeat, she held her grandmother’s hand. The scent of cinnamon, the warmth of love—it enveloped her. Then, the world snapped back, and she stumbled onto the bridge.
The Ferryman nodded. “Your memory is now woven into the stars.”
Nicole wept, knowing she’d forget that cherished moment. But she also knew her grandmother danced among constellations, whispering secrets to the moon.
As dawn painted the sky, the villagers dispersed. Nicole cradled her lantern, its flame flickering. She glanced back at the bridge, where the Ferryman awaited the next seeker.
And she understood—the price of glimpsing eternity was not loss but transformation. Memories became stardust, and love transcended time.
From then on, when the Harvest Moon graced Eldermoor, Nicole returned. She listened to the river’s whispers, hoping to catch a fragment of her grandmother’s laughter. And perhaps, just perhaps, she glimpsed eternity once more.
✍️Chikaima Zita Unachukwu
