Alf and the river

Alf’s family had lived next to the river for generations. Each new family member grew up to respect and revere it. Everyone learnt the feel of its cool water between their toes, dripping from their hair. The river gave them everything. The open barron planes around them sheltered their own private paradise. By day they fished, in their boats or from the shore; by night they were held by its sounds. During the rainy season it was not unusual for the river to burst its banks and steal away land or livestock. The river was powerful, it gave Alf’s family a purpose, an identity. These were river folk, they knew its meanderings better than anyone else alive. They knew little of anything else, they were content to live their lives taking only what they needed from the river. 

One summer, the temperatures were higher than Alf could recall. The heat was merciless, only the river’s cooling flow could cure it. As each day sweltered into the next, Alf noticed the river was dropping, there was a faint line visible on the opposite embankment that showed where the water used to reach. He did not mention it to any one in the family. He was a proud man, and the feeling of dread in his stomach was so slight that it was not worth causing alarm.  

Still the heat persisted. As the children splashed and played in the river, Alf became obsessed with the line above the water. He convinced himself that he was imagining it, and that there had always been a line above the river. But at night he laid awake, the usual peacefulness of the river’s gentle flowing only served to instill fear into him, he was sure the river was louder yesterday. 

When Ursula noticed that the water had dropped, she saw the worry in Alf’s eyes. She said not to be scared, the river had always provided for them. That night, Alf listened to the river, but he also noticed Ursula was not breathing in her same, deep regimented manor of sleep, she too laid awake. 

Finally, the heat subsided, Alf smiled as he stepped out into a cool morning. But still the water continued to drop, even more rapidly now the air was cooler. The children began to notice, they could now only wade up to their waists, where before they had to be careful not to go too deep. There were fewer fish in the river, and occasionally one would wash up on the dry banks. They would lay on the land so long that they began to rot and make a stench. 

Then the day came when Alf knew that his family could not stay here. The river had abandoned them. He prepared to set out upriver in search for a better place for them to live. He told Ursula that he would follow the river for no more than three days, if he could not find anywhere he would return. The family had enough vegetables and milk to last them. 

He set out. Following the curves of the river through the land. The furthest point that could be seen from the house was where two mountains parted in the distance, they knew this is where the river came from, but Alf had never ventured that far. For an hour or so Ursula watched him from the front of the house, getting smaller and smaller across the planes until he was no longer visible. 

All along the banks of the river Alf saw signs of the land’s thirst. He would come across a dead animal or a wilted tree. He could not understand why the life line of this land, of his homeland, had forsaken him. For two days he walked, stopping at sundown to make a camp for the night. As the sun rose on day three he packed up his small bag and set out into the wilderness again. 

Alf closed in on the gap in the mountains. He could now see something joining the two at the very base. It was not of the land, it had very hard straight lines, the kind that don’t exist in nature. He picked up the pace, knowing that if he didn’t find answers today, he would have to turn back so as not to worry Ursula. As he got closer he could see that whatever it was in between the mountains was much larger than he had first thought. The mountains dwarfed it but as the land flattened out Alf could see that it was higher than the tallest trees he had ever seen. He could hear it hum. It made a sound he had never heard before, it was not free and soothing like the river, it was rhythmic and incessant. He followed the river bed right to the base of the structure.

He stood and looked up, wide eyed, mouth open. The structure was made of stone, but no stone he had seen, it was flat, and smooth and reached for the sky. Far to the west Alf could see a path leading up the mountain. He knew he had to see what was at the top of this other worldly structure. He followed the base of the mountain until he reached the path. The terrain upward was steep and the footing loose. Twice he slipped and sent stones tumbling downwards. Alf could see that the sun was low in the sky as he struggled upwards. He did not need to reach the crest of the hill to see past the structure that blocked the river. The water touched the very top of the other side, the whole valley was filled with water, and flooded with bright lights. All corners of the lake were illuminated, but not like the light from the sun, it was harsh and white, it hurt Alf’s eyes.  

Alf had seen boats before, he had fished on them his whole life, but the boats that moved on this water were five times the size of Alf’s boat, and they moved so fast. They made a terrible noise and shone a terrible light. The sun was now completely gone. Alf sat on the shores of an artificial lake and wept.