Random stories

# Soulmage

**"Trust me, kid,"** the ferryman said. "It's not your time to cross yet."

Meloai jerked her head towards the sign. "Says you're open."

"Not for you." When Meloai had asked the man's name, he'd mumbled something about shoddy translation and synonyms, but eventually coughed up 'Scorchatop.' She supposed she'd take it. Scorchatop tapped the bottom of the sign, which read WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE FOR ANY REASON.

"I've got cash," Meloai pointed out.

"You don't want to pay this price," Scorchatop warned me.

Meloai peered at the fee rates. They all just said "1."

"One what?" Meloai asked.

"Coins are traditional," Scorchatop said.

"To... pay people with? Yes, coins are traditional. Are you okay?"

Scorchatop blinked at me, surprised. "...Nobody's quite asked me that for... a while, now. No, I am very much not okay."

Meloai hesitated, then sat down by the riverbank. "Want to talk about it?"

Scorchatop scoffed. "As if you'd understand."

"I don't need to understand to listen," Meloai pointed out.

The ferryman tilted his head, considering the matter.

"I suppose there's no harm in... well. No, that's wrong. That *is* the harm. You're far from the first... customer... I've had. Some of them beg. Some of them rage. Some of them just... sit there. But a fraction of them... talk. And over the years, a fraction can build up. To be millions. Billions."

Meloai considered the math. "Not unless you've been in business since before humanity existed," she said.

Scorchatop gave Meloai a humorless smile. "Not unless. Well. I don't see any of my passengers again. They never cross the same river twice. Most of them, I'm not sad to see go. But a few... those many few... I miss them. I miss them all."

Meloai tilted her head.

Then she flipped a coin at Scorchatop, who caught it by reflex, surprised.

"I don't want to cross anymore," Meloai decided, cutting off Scorchatop before he could say anything. "But nothing says I can't come back."

Scorchatop looked down at the coin in his palm. "Then why pay me?"

"Because you need to eat too. Everyone has bills to pay."

"It's not about the coin," Scorchatop said. "It's about the memories within."

"Well, whenever you look at that coin in particular, you can remember me," Meloai said. "And we can make more memories."

Slowly, Scorchatop nodded. "As long as you stay on your side of the riverbank... I don't see a problem with that."

Meloai beamed at the ferryman. "It's nice to make a new friend."

"An old friend," Scorchatop murmured. "A very, very old friend."

"You are quite old," Meloai agreed, scanning the white-haired ferryman. "If I'm not going across, then I've got to be off. But I'll see you around, Scorchatop."

"That's—a translation error," the ferryman muttered.

"Oh?" Meloai paused, halfway to leaving. "What's your name, then?"

"Charon. You can call me Charon."

Meloai nodded. "Charon it is, then. See you around!"

"I'll see you... eventually."

And the child and the ferryman parted ways, leaving Charon to watch wistfully as the river lapped his boat.

A.N.

This story is set in the world of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or r/bubblewriters for more.

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Submitted by meowcats734 on Sat, Dec 17, 2022 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

You've inherited a mansion with a riverside view. The neighbours are a handful though, from a money grubbing boatman who won't let you ride to the other side, a cringy old man who won't stop making "Hay deez nuts" jokes until his wife comes back for the winter, and his goddamn weirdass dog.