by Morgan Rice
*
The sun rises, and I crack open my eyes. We are bobbing, free-floating in the water, our boat adrift in the middle of the Hudson. We are all huddled together, under a single thin blanket, lying down under the open sky. Penelope lies still in Bree’s lap.
The boat ran out of gas hours ago, late in the night. But we all remember, what happened to us back there, the last time we left the boat, none of us want to abandon the boat. So we all instead huddled together, and let the current take us aimlessly down the river.
We traveled for hours last night, and everywhere, there was nothing but a desolate wasteland. No towns, no humanity. In this cold, without warmth or food, we can’t survive much longer.
I’ve been dreaming, peaceful dreams for a change. When I open my eyes, I see the sky flooded with pinks and purples, I’m not sure if I’m awake or asleep.
I’m so weak from hunger, so tired, so cold, I can’t even get up. Neither can the others. We are all frozen here, together. I know we will all die here. And finally, I’m ready to accept it. At least we are free. At least we are dying on our own terms.
I open my eyes more, and realize I’m awake. I see a world flooded with soft pinks and purples and muted colors, and it is the most beautiful breaking sky I have ever seen.
As I look up, at the river, I see something, and I am sure I’m hallucinating. I see our boat moving, upriver, against the current. It’s impossible.
I see a beautiful, shining white boat in front of us, tugging us, pulling us slowly upriver. We drift gently, being pulled, somewhere north, by this beautiful boat. The wind strokes my hair gently, and as I lean up, I see it pulls us through huge, shining golden gates in the river.
As we go, I see dozens more boats, all shining white, everything perfectly new-and behind them, on either side of the river, I see a beautiful shining city. Everything intact. Stores. Sidewalks. People. Cars. Everything perfect. Immaculate. Clean. Happy. People sitting in cafes, laughing. Mothers strolling with their daughters on cobblestone streets. The mythical city.
I force open my eyes, ask myself if this is perhaps my final dream before I die. I’m not sure, but I can’t help feeling that I’m awake. That this is real. That we have found it.
And that everything is going to be okay.
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Document ID: fbd-d78584-e546-b446-af86-a7d5-5c8a-29efb0
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Document creation date: 03.11.2012
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