Thursday 15 January 2015

Tales of the Ferryman 1 - 19.



The Ferryman’s world.


The world of the Ferryman is a watery wasteland, pierced by a canal system as old as humanity. He works for the Lord of Punishment who rules over the real world and the next. Ferrymen were once human beings that fell between sinner and saint, neither one nor the other. Souls would drop through the veil of death and be harvested by these tireless gatherers. Those who were without too much sin would be able to climb upon the bow of the narrow boat and voyage in comfort.

Those who still had to answer for their sins would find only the hold would take them. There they would labour on the engine of the boat, eaten by the rats that lived there, only to find themselves healed in the mornings. The task was to deliver the souls to the last lock and into Gaia’s realm for the redeemed. Ex-sinners and the passengers would vacate the narrow boat and travel on beyond the Netherworld. The Ferrymen and women were those souls that had elected to stay and serve the Dark Lord as he was also known, rather than to travel onwards.

They never judged the cargo that they collected as only the boat could do that. The boats were coated with liquid Imp that would reform at the end of the journey and take up their other duties in Hell. Now and again a Ferryman was allowed to intervene in the physical world of the living, but only at the bequest of the Lord of Punishment. Very rarely he would take a hand in mankind’s affairs and as thousands of years went by ‘He’ interfered less and less.

Eventually he would be forced to judge, but that is another story.



The origins of the boats were lost in time and to begin with they had been totally constructed out of wood. Over the centuries they had been added to and modified. Now the hull was of a dark metal coated in liquid Imp. The beast that pulled the hull along the waterways had been replaced by an engine of sorts. Every new skipper added something of themselves to the vessels. I first shipped with one just such as I, to learn the craft.


I still remember when the first canals were dug in the netherworld and to get from one to another would entail following the thin threads of the water supply. I would need to navigate along these slipways, collecting as I went. It was a busy time during the building of the canals. Many of the navigators met a sudden end and needed my help. Those that I missed I would collect on the return journey. Souls were plentiful then and worked until they were judged. Those that had atoned were taken on board and awaited shipment.

As the canals filled with water and joined up together, my passage became easier. A network of interconnected highways spread out across the country. Where an area was closed off, I could follow the water supplies from city to town and back again. I would sometimes meet another boat that was in the same trade as myself and we would travel along together for a while.

Very often I would pull alongside one of the holiday narrow boats from the first world and let my cargo enjoy the company of the living, as we travelled through the locks. We would travel mile after mile, until I stopped to fish some unfortunate soul from the water’s grasp. They were never aware of me, but sometimes the children on board the other boats would become uneasy. When that happened I would pull back and let them advance along the ‘cut’ until they were away from my influence.

I never ventured into the engine compartment. I only accepted that the energies that drove the boat were contained in this place. The bow was a place that I frequented when the journey became over taxing and I needed company. I would tread the outside of the cabin and enter from the double doors at front. This part of the boat was sealed off from the stern and those that I had collected stayed here amongst their own company. Children were looked after and their fears soothed by those who had been lost to their own children. They soon began to settle down as the long narrow boat surged along the waterways.

I was the one who had found them and had been the first for them to cling onto for security. It would be soon that we would part our separate ways as I delivered them all to the designated place. This end of the boat was full of light and the essence of care shone into the darkness as we slipped down yet another tunnel.

During the two great wars my kind had been so extremely busy ferrying our increasing cargoes that we had little time to grieve. So very many of them filled the forward section, the boat had extended to meet the needs of the cargo. The energy that powered the engine increased by the circumstances that we found ourselves. There was so much wickedness stalking the land that my kind had no trouble with lack of engine capacity.

Now in the present day a different type of soul presented itself. I saw the rip in the fabric of reality and the lost souls come tumbling through. The sun had long set and the usual mists crept over the waterways as a fretful dawn began to rise.

My hand lay lightly on the tiller and when the warning hoot sounded, I heaved to in the semi-darkness and lit the beacons. Frightened faces turned towards the light in confusion, as they bobbed up and down in the wake of the boat. I dropped the climbing nets at the front and watched them climb aboard, helped into the bow by the other temporary residents.

An anguished cry rang out in the gloom from a man who could not grasp the nets. Each time he got hold of the mesh it unravelled and cast him off. I watched him come nearer, as the boat slowly surged forwards. His face was full of bewildered fear, as time and again the boat refused him sanctuary. None of the rescued would help him and he slid along the hull unable to scramble aboard.

I un-shipped the boathook and allowed him to grip onto the wrought iron end. When he had gripped onto the hook with both hands I swung him aboard and waited for the confusion to turn to the inevitable questions.

“This is not paradise! I died a martyred death,” he exclaimed, staring up at my huge demonic frame. “Where are the things that I was promised and who are you?”

“I am the Ferryman,” I replied. “I deliver my cargo to wherever it is that they go to. The boat cares for them, but not for you. As the people at the front would not help you, I can only surmise that they were the victims of your fanaticism!”

I could see that the engine hatch was slowly beginning to open behind him. The darkness was beginning to abate and the mists curl away showing the shadow-land country that was ours to see. Already the lights were dimming at the bow and the sounds of questions and answers floated down the roof of the long narrow-boat. Sometimes the anger would fill the air as they began to understand where they were and where they were going. After a while acceptance would take its place and the newcomers would settle down and watch the waters go gliding by. They would be there to assist others that the boat would collect, before I made the turn and entered the final lock.
Now I could see the many terrified eyes shining in the dark of the engine hold as the hatch lifted higher.

“Am I dead?” the young man asked. “If I am, why am I not in paradise, with all that I was promised?”

“Paradise, as such it may be, is for the innocent, not for the perpetrators of death amongst them. Killers, murderers, rapists and all the spawn of evil become the fuel that drives the engine of this boat,” I replied and pointed to the raised hatch behind him. “Your place is there amongst others of your kind, to endlessly toil and propel this carriage of the dead to the place of judgement until such time that you are deemed worthy of release!”

As the young man turned to view the fully opened hatch his face filled with horror at the sights that only he could see, as I turned my face away. The deck of the boat rose up behind me so that the young man slid down, down, into the bottom of the engine hold. My ears were deaf to his pleas for mercy as the hatch closed over him.

Changing shape to that of white-haired late middle-aged human I set the tiller onto automatic and walked along the side to speak to my new cargo. I would set their minds to as much rest as I could. At least I could tell them that the young man who had robbed them of their lives on the world that they had freshly departed was suffering the torments of the damned. My heart lifted a little as I wondered if one amongst the passengers would be prepared to be my apprentice. The boats always needed new skippers. 

Tales of the Ferryman - 2.Soul cargo


The shadow-land was the mortal world and overlapped into mine. I sailed the waterways of this other parallel universe locked to this world. My canal threaded alongside each and every pipe that carried water to city, town, and village. 
In the beginning my River-master merely followed the streams that joined the rivers. We hunted for lost souls along those ancient waterways. The boats were made of black wood in those days and hauled along by the carriage beast. It was a fearsome thing and took a strong heart to approach. The creature lent into the harness towing the narrow-boat along the watery stretches only stopping when my master stopped to gather in the harvest.
I did my apprenticeship and after some centuries a boat was wrought for me to take my place at the tiller as I too became a Ferryman. The new vessel was built of a mixture of black wood and dark metal with the area below the water-line covered in the liquid imp. These lesser devils would be part of the living boat until we found our way back to the halls of punishment. Long windows were fitted along the sides with bright lights shining inside. Scramble nets were stowed upon the roof in readiness. Below the waterline the hull was darkest black and above the brightest gold with brass fittings that shone. 
I was given my own beast to master. Its eyes reflected punishment and the teeth were a large as spades. The feet were shod with heavy iron shoes to take the wear of centuries. The devil’s blacksmith had hammered the metal from the black souls of the irretrievably damned. Murderous strength drove the creature as the souls of those who had killed without just cause maintained its body. Demons had dragged the screaming repentant sinners with hot irons to make the creature’s frame. As it is with every Ferryman, I had been called to harness the beast to the bow of the narrow boat that would now be my home. 
To the creature’s surprise I offered kindness and declined the long barbed whip. In the moment of calm I slipped the harness over the ugly head and led the beast towards the towpath away from the heat of the forge. I kept hold of the brass ring by the side of its mouth and led the anguished souls into my servitude. As the slackness pulled up and the boat began to move I walked alongside the beast and spoke to the imprisoned spirits.
“Pull this boat for me and assist the harvesting of the needy and we shall both serve out our times. From time to time you will be replenished. I offer you hope where there was none before. Take it and work for me and there will be no need for the lash. One day you will be judged again in that place beyond the final lock.”
The great ugly head bowed down as the beast pulled in the harness and the boat picked up speed. It turned its head towards me and the light of punishment in its eyes had turned to a glimmer of hope. I continued to walk beside the beast while we approached the first lock leading up to the mortal world. There would be many of these locks to work until we came to the shadow-lands. Then and only then our work would begin.
I can remember those seemingly endless days as we climbed towards the light just as though it were yesterday. The beast toiled on upwards and onwards, the shadow-lands drew closer, and eventually the light of the mortal world shone into ours. Behind us came other new Masters with their beasts leaning into the harnesses. I allowed us a short rest at the top of the flight and pondered which way to go. A huge basin lay before us and on this pound lay other boats waiting for their pathway to materialise. The canal pound split into thousands of spurs, all shrouded in mist, and each direction looked as good as another. I had been told to wait for the call and I would know which one to take.
One of the waterways gleamed silver and the mist cleared away. This was to be our personal pathway. I urged the beast into the basin waters and towards the towpath and we made our way along the canal at a steady pace. Soon the basin was long behind us and all sight of the other canals lost. The beast toiled onwards accepting its fate as my means of locomotion. I stood upon the roof of my new vessel and stared into the hazy distance. We were alone.
So began my first solo voyage. Backwards and forwards we travelled collecting the souls of those who had done no wrong. In amongst the multitude a dark one would try to climb aboard. Always the nets would unravel and they would swim hoping for a bank to climb upon along the towpath. It was a last act of desperation. A faint lapping was indistinguishable below the frantic voices and the far bank was shrouded by mist at these times.] There the beast would devour them ignoring their screams of terror. At the bow the boat seemed infinitely large as no matter how many we took on board there was always room for more. I joined them from time to time and gathered news of the world of the living. The bow was a place that I frequented when the journey became over taxing and I desired company. Unlike those who were taken by the beast, if these people had taken life they were not held guilty; they were the soldiers and protectors of the innocent. The boat judged them, not I and nothing that I could do would change that fact.
Finally towards the end of that first solo journey I sighted the final lock and urged the beast forwards into the turn. I moored up and stared at the great gates that reared up before us all. I had been here many times before with my Master but this was the first time on my own. I left the boat and instructed the souls at the front to stay put while I climbed the steps to the paddle control. Here the light was so bright that I could not look into it for long. I pitched the windlass onto the stub projecting from the gate-head’s winch and swung the paddles open.
The water gushed out from the paddles emptying the lock right down to the level of the narrow boat that kicked and swung at the ropes at the mooring jetty. I pushed against the lock gate bar and opened the towpath side gate and latched it back. Now would come the long walk down the steps to the level of the jetty. Once there I lead the beast along the once submerged towpath inside the lock pulling the narrow boat in. I hit the trip mechanism with the boathook and pulled the gate shut. Immediately the paddles closed and the water began to pour into the lock raising the boat upwards to the top jetty. The water swirled about the beast’s legs and the heavy iron shoes came off. The harness slipped away and the creature began to come apart as the souls of the once damned scrambled onto the nets that now accepted them. Their penance done they were allowed to mingle with the saved.
The boat rose into the light at the top jetty and I used the boathook to catch onto the bollard with a carrier rope and made fast fore and aft.
“Journey’s end,” I cried. “Journey’s end!”
There were people waiting for them as they disembarked and none of them gave a backward glance save one who had clambered from the beast. She turned her back upon the brightness and walked the jetty’s side towards me.
“Do you need help?” she asked.
“Always there is a need for Ferrymen or Ferrywomen,” I replied. “Come aboard and be welcome.”
I knew her time inside the beast had not been enough to wash away all of her sins. I too had toiled inside the beast and had made the choice to be a Ferryman. We unshipped the ropes together and I tripped the catch to let the water out with the gates closed. The boat began to drop with the water beyond the base level of the gate. Full circle we had travelled. Now we needed another beast and there was only one place to go! The boat would take us there deep beneath the halls of punishment as the current only travelled in one direction and that was down. A new beast would be made ready and a new coating that laminated the bottom of the boat. My heart sang as we prepared the boat together and I told her what her duties would be as I taught her my craft. It was not often that it was possible to share the journeys back and forth with company. She would be my companion until she was judged to have enough experience to take out her own narrow boat in the search for lost souls.


Barry E Woodham.


Tales of the ferryman - 3.Soul Engine.


Once more my cargo of souls had been safely delivered and the beast liberated. It was time to return to the embarkation point and receive a new beast of burden. Outside, the real world was in the throes of the industrial revolution and many souls found themselves abruptly transferred to my world. 
I was a Ferryman and plied the waterways collecting the transient souls of the departed and also the souls of the damned. The boat was the ultimate judge of those we picked up from the waters of life. Those deemed worthy would scramble up the nets and climb into the front of the boat. The damned would find that the boat would not accept them and in climbing out onto the towpath would be devoured by the beast. There they would serve by pulling the boat to the final lock, by straining into the harness. At the end of the journey the pure waters from the top would dissolve the beast and set the repentant souls free.
I had done my penance inside the beast and found that I did not yet feel that I had earned my release and had been offered an apprenticeship by the Ferryman I had pulled along the towpaths. I accepted and in time I became a Ferryman in sole charge of my own narrow boat. The centuries had passed to this present time of industrial expansion and the accidental death rate had increased far more than in the past. Now that warfare had virtually ceased in England since the time of the Civil War, it was my counterparts in Europe that did the collection from the old battlefields.
The waterways into the cities paralleled the water supplies to feed the thirst and needs of the people. Unseen and out of reach of the living were the canals of the underworld, reaching into every settlement since human life had built places to live. Sometimes the tread of the beast would have to leave the towpath where the going got difficult. The canal would disappear into the marshes and the bank become hard to find. It was here that we would find some poor lost soul that had become so confused by the manner of their death that they had struggled further and further from the towpath. The Ferryman and his beast would continue to search until they found the desperate spirit and helped the person aboard.
The water began to drain away from the final, lock and the boat had reached the level of the bottom of the gate. I had passed this point many times before on my return journey and continued to drop until the tunnel mouth opened. As it opened, the water flow took the boat through on the surge and I passed through into the underworld. I heard the gate close behind me, sealing the entry. Something reached out for the rope on the bow and began to tug on the rope. Many more bony hands grabbed hold and the narrow boat slid along through the semi darkness.
Things had changed somewhat since I last had travelled this way. The stables of the beasts had gone and in their place a dry dock had been built. It was to this place that the imps had pulled me. The narrow boat entered the lock and the gate shut tight. As the water drained away the boat settled onto the trolleys with an audible creak. Once again the imps hauled the boat forwards through the end gate and into an open shipyard. Here muscular devils, shiny with sweat, clustered around the stern of the boat. With their clawed hands they opened the back of the boat like a ripped, tin can. They bent and twisted the hull as if it were paper, into strange industrial shapes that I could not understand. A great central shaft was fitted into supports with chains and pulleys constructed around it. Some kind of mechanism, attached to many pedals was inserted around the shaft. It seemed to be deeper inside the end of the boat than it could possibly be. A large hatch was hinged and fitted to the back with a seat for me to sit upon, next to the tiller.
I watched as a hoard of imps dragged a brass propeller across the shipyard floor direct from the forge and still glowing. A larger than normal devil picked up the still glowing propeller and hammered it onto the stub of the shaft, pinching the hub shut.
I moved out of the way to allow the imps to fit something that I had not seen before onto the bulkhead. It was a simple lever labelled, ‘forwards and reverse’.
In the distance I could hear screaming and the terrified sobbing of the damned. Hoards of black and red imps were driving a crowd towards the back of the boat. One of the demons gestured me away from the stern and I watched horrified as the hatch automatically lifted on the hinge. Into this dark and cramped space the crowd of the damned were driven into the engine hold. Hundreds of them disappeared into this hole before my astonished eyes and then the hatch dropped back.
The imps spread over the bottom of the boat and became a new layer of impenetrable pitch and blended into each other. The boat was dragged back into the dry dock and I heard the sound of the water, rushing in. The gates opened and the boat lay idle waiting for my command. I put my hand onto the lever and pulled it back to reverse and the propeller began to turn. Slowly the narrow boat began to edge into reverse and wallow backwards until we reached the fork. With a turn of the tiller and the lever into forward we surged into the other channel.
Curious, I pushed the lever far forwards to see what effect it would have on the boat. The boat plunged forwards breaking a bow wave over the edges of the banks and from the hold I could hear anguished moans from the damned as they were pushed to the limits of exertion. Out of pity I eased back to a more steady speed to the pace I was used to with the pull of the beast.
We entered the first lock to get up to the level of the shadow-lands. I soon found with the new ‘engine,’ the staircase locks were much easier to negotiate. There were souls to save and those damned that had not fallen into Hell to collect. A new voyage lay before me and more solitude than I was used to. I would miss the beast!

Barry E Woodham.

Tales of the Ferryman - 4.Soul Harvest.


This time of year my kind were kept busier than any other time. The combination of winter, Christmas and drink was a lethal recipe. Once the roads were coated in ice the results were inevitable. We Ferrymen were the harvesters of lost souls and from time to time the collectors of those responsible for their demise. For us this was a sad time of needless deaths brought on by others’ stupidity.
The waterways of the underworld reached out to the Shadow-lands and a canal system paralleled the lanes of the living. We cruised along these unseen, connecting threads at a steady pace always seeming to be at the right place at the necessary time. I spent the majority of my time at the helm of the boat with a light touch upon the tiller. The scramble-nets were at the bow and were rolled up onto the roof until needed. That end of the narrow boat was full of light to show up on the darkest night. Those that had fallen from the world of the living into the waters of life could easily climb aboard the cast down nets. The damned however, would find it impossible to scale the sides of the boat at the bow and find themselves at the stern with me. The boat judged who were damned and who would be saved. My task was to be ferryman to these lost souls, nothing more. It was left to me to navigate the waterways to reach the last lock and deliver my cargo.
This late December night was a bad one. Something of the awful cold seeped across the partitions of the world of the living into mine. I drew my cloak around me and settled the wide-brimmed hat firmly behind the horns of my head. The wet sleet beat heavily onto the road where it hovered between freezing and slush. Driven at a sensible speed most cars would keep their grip on this bend. Alcohol made that certain difference between staying on the road and losing that needed judgement. 
There were families on the motorway this night travelling to see relatives, some from duty, some from love. Amongst this throng were some making their way back from the office party. Always there would be a few who had helped themselves to the free drinks just too much. Some would make it home and some would not.
I dropped the speed of the boat to a standstill and idled in the water waiting for the moment that had summoned me. A large powerful car began to swerve as it hit the small patch of ice and began to slide across the lanes. Inside, the drowsy occupant began to try to compensate, seconds too late, his vision glazed and judgment screwed by one drink too many. He hit the brakes too hard and slid across the line into the tail of the car by his nearside. Both cars spun into the path of the other line of homeward bound vehicles. Braking and twisting in the heavy sleet one old car turned over and buried its boot under an articulated lorry that promptly jack-knifed. A fireball rose into the murky skies as the snow thickened.
The nets rolled down into the waters and I put the nose of the boat equally into the struggling throng. My heart sank as I saw the children floundering in the depths and mothers holding babies above the waves. The other souls already aboard were helping the new occupants over the side and into the warmth of the inside. An all too familiar sense of bewilderment and fear washed over me. I was helpless to comfort these new arrivals until the boat had picked up all of the lost. There would still be one to take on board at my end and I would make sure that I did not miss him.
Out at the edge of the groups of the newly dead was one fear stricken face that was familiar to my eyes. I had seen this type all too often at this time of the year. He was responsible the loss of life this terrible night and he would pay the price. Also in a small group around him were others who if not for that extra drink would have made a difference in the carnage on that night. It would be interesting to see whom the boat accepted and whom it denied. I watched as some of them made it to the nets and could not get aboard, frantically scratching at the sides as they made their way to me.
The back of the boat is low to the water and there is a rail to grasp besides my boathook assisting those who could not scramble aboard. Soon I had a small group of wide-eyed bewildered people shivering on the wet top of the hold. They were staring at me. I took my hat off so that they could more clearly see my horns and the eyes got wider. When I smiled some of them slid to the floor and began to shake with fear.
I pointed a bony finger, pricked the one responsible with a pointed claw and said, “You were responsible for these poor souls losing their place among the living. You others who could not resist that extra drink and added to the carnage that still lights the skies of the living world in flames. I must stay here a while longer to assist in picking up the late arrivals. You on the other hand will assist me in labouring in the hold, driving this boat until we reach the last lock and judgement.”
The top of the hold began to become transparent, giving them a glimpse of the conditions within. It then jellified around them and allowed the group to sink into the labour of Hell, screaming as they sank. Soon it became quiet and I searched the waters for more latecomers. It would be a busy night I feared. 



Barry E Woodham.


Tales of the ferryman. - 5.Soul dreamer.              


Last night I dreamt about the Ferryman.
This was the third time that I had seen him and his narrow boat that collects lost souls from the world of the living. I knew that he had come for me.
It had been a cold winter’s night and I had crossed an almost deserted road, when from out of the night a car had hit me flying. I was carrying heroin and smack to a nightclub where my trade would be appreciated. The living was a good one and paid well, but the competition was fierce. Those who had been keen to take my trade had marked me down. As I lay semi-conscious, the lights of the car came back and I heard a door open. Footsteps came towards me and fingers went through my pockets, relieving me of the packets I had brought to trade. I felt the boot, as it hit my side and the noise of the car as it disappeared into the night, before I dropped into uneasy sleep.
I found myself falling. It seemed forever until I hit water. I may have been falling upwards or down. I couldn’t tell. All that I knew was I was in a dark wet place held fast by stringy weeds. I was alone, terrified and lost when I heard the chug, chug of an engine. The sound was as if many people were turning a shaft with great effort at the limits of their strength. It was almost the sound of a great millwheel being turned by many hands.
A light began to show as a long narrow boat began to hove into sight. There were nets hanging from the roof down the sides and into the water. There were many people at the bow, bathed in light from the inside, all wanting to help me. The skipper put the boat into reverse to slow its motion almost to a stop and I reached for the nets to climb aboard. To my mounting horror my rescue did not seem to be so easy. As I reached for the nets, the strands undid and I could not grasp the ropes. The boat began to drift on by, as I struggled to get out of the dark water. Soon there were no nets to grasp and I found myself at the back end of the boat. 
At the back, wrapped in a black cloak with a broad-brimmed hat pulled over a misshapen head was a huge manlike shape. His orange eyes were like a cat’s, with wide slits to see in the gloomy darkness. The hands were strong and bony, ending in talons that could tear a bear apart. He unshipped a cruel looking boathook and swung it across the canal towards me and motioned me to hold onto it. As he did so, his hat fell to the side showing two sharp stubby horns projecting from his forehead. His teeth were sharp, pointed and showed when he smiled.
  Before the hook touched me I felt myself falling again and I heard him call, “I will come again!”
There were bright lights and pain. I could here voices taut with concern calling instructions.
“Stand away!”
“We got him. Insert drips.”
“Close him up.”
“Take him to recovery after the plaster sets.”
I dropped back into sleep and found myself stood at the back of the narrow boat with the Ferryman.
“Look into the hold,” he said and pointed to the open hatch.
He held me helpless as a small child not yet out of nappies. I could not move and could not shut my eyes. Down in the hold was the engine. My ears had told me right as although a city boy, I had never seen or heard a millwheel. That is what I saw being pushed round and round to turn a propeller shaft and chained to it were the souls of the damned. They were naked, thirsty and hungry, covered in their own mess and stood in a pool of stinking urine. Down there with them were black scuttling things that fed upon them as they toiled. I watched as the bite-marks faded away only to be replaced by sharp little teeth chewing, chewing at their unprotected flesh. At the edges of the hold were other things holding whips. 
I screamed!
“This is what awaits you. The boat will judge the next time we meet and if the nets refuse to let you come aboard the bow; then here is where you will come. Always there is a need to turn the wheel to drive the boat. I sail the waterways of mankind’s folly, eternally seeking lost souls to take them to the last lock and judgement. Remember this when you return to the world of the living. Wherever you go, I shall find you. Think carefully about your life and what you do with what is left of it!”
Again; bright lights and pain.
“Stand away!”
“Again!”
“We’ve got him. Nurse, stay with him and hook him up to life support.”
Again I fell into deep slumber.
Morning came and I opened my eyes to find that I was safely in a hospital bed. The pain was constant, but I could cope with it. I couldn’t cope with the visions. Over and over again I looked into the engine hold of that long, dark narrow boat. That hold was a picture of the hell I put my clients in, with the things that I sold them. They could not get away, but I could. I promised myself that my own addiction would be mastered and I would do some good in this world.
The years passed and I found contentment by joining agencies that worked in the poverty-stricken areas of this troubled world. I dug wells and ditches, taught my language in backwoods schools. I even fell in love and reared my own children to be my helpers in my new career. Now I grow old and wait for the soul collector’s final visit. I can only hope that when the boat judges me it accepts that I have done my best to make amends.

I close my eyes and at the edge of my sleep I am aware that he is coming.

Barry E Woodham.

Tales of the Ferryman. - 6.Soul Keeper.


This had been a bad journey. I had a full boatload and was toiling against the force of the flow of the waterway. The contents of the hold had done their best to give me what I needed to cruise the narrow boat and do my duty.
I was a Ferryman to the next world, a collector of souls both good and bad. Those that were allowed to climb aboard at the front of the boat travelled at that end illuminated by the light of righteousness. Those that needed to expurgate their sins travelled at the stern and turned the engine, enduring the horrors of the hold.
Although I was well aware of the terrible conditions inside the hold, I never went down there unless there was a problem that the imps could not fix. I was allowed to visit the bow and mix with the poor souls that the boat had picked up and catch up on the news from the world of the living. To them I was a grey haired, weather-beaten man of above average height and build. To the ones at the back, I looked like a demon from hell! With good reason they feared my power over them and my appearance.
The boat abruptly slowed down to little more than a walking pace. I pushed the lever further into the speed-up zone with little effect. I took up the beacon light and made the gesture to open and the hatch slid back from the hold. Beneath my feet were the souls of the damned, naked and filthy, from walking through their own mess. I held the light higher so that I could view the problem that was slowing down the boat. Some of the driving force of the boat had slipped their chains and stood fearfully in a small group, surrounded by the Imps of Hell. Those that remained still plodded round and pushed the bar that drove the propeller, unable to slip their chains.
I immediately understood. The boat had rejected them from the punishment meted out and released them from servitude. This was all very well, but I now had insufficient sinners to power the boat! There was one alternative that presented itself to me and that was to make for the Keeper’s lodge. I beckoned them towards me and was immediately aware of the fear that possessed them at my appearance. The claw-tipped bony hand reformed to a more human one, as did the rest of me to these pardoned sinners.
Their faces registered astonishment, as I shed the fearful shape and became the figure that the souls at the front of the boat were used to seeing. Now they needed no more urging and scrambled out of the hold and onto the after-deck to stand before my more kindly gaze. The hatch sealed over behind them and left them blinking in the bright morning air. I directed the boat to edge into the sedges at the left and made the sign. They parted to show another waterway that angled away from the main carriageway. This was the offshoot from the canal that always led to the Keeper’s Lodge.
As the souls of the once damned became bathed in the clear morning light, they became clean and clothed in simple togas of white cloth. They lent back against the safety rail and stared around at the countryside that lay each side of the canal as it snaked away into the distance. It was similar to the world of the living, but the perspective was different in some strange way. It was as if things were much further away than they seemed and rapidly disappeared from view as the boat cruised slowly along. 
Ahead they could see a large lagoon with many other narrow boats moored temporarily in rows. A wooden jetty with large iron rings spaced them out along the moorings and separated each of them. The narrow boats were tied up to the rings, fixed fore and aft with the back off the boats pointing out. Looming above the marina was the Keeper’s Lodge. It was built of time worn stone and ancient timbers. To those not born to this world it just looked old and permanent. We Ferrymen have known that it was made in the dawn of time, as a refuge for such as we and as a Keep for fresh sinners. It was here that we took on new damned souls for the engine hold. Before that, the Keep had stables for the beasts that pulled the boats, before the Imps of Hell constructed the engines that now did the work. 
I edged the narrow boat into a jetty and drew gently to a stop, stepped off and tied the stern rope to a thick iron ring. 
“You may get off the back of the boat now and make your way to the bow. There you will find a welcome from those I have picked up on our journey to the ‘last lock’. Stay with them and do not venture away from this boat. You have done well to be able to transfer to the bow after part of the journey. Do nothing that might swiftly put you back. Remember this, the Boat chooses who rides at the front and who works at the back, not I! I have business with the Keeper and you would not want to glimpse him for he is far more terrifying than me,” I reminded them and walked briskly along the jetty to tie up the bow to the ring at the inside of the jetty.
The newly saved souls quickly made their way into the bow and mingled with those that I had picked up along the way. From the stories that they would tell about the hold, I did not expect them to leave the safety of the front of the boat. They could talk to the other occupants of the nose in the boats either side, but I was sure that they would not dare to walk ashore.
There were other Ferrymen and women here at the Lodge and I was eager to exchange conversations with others of my kind. Many of the big trestle tables with their built-in seats were occupied, but there was one Ferrywoman who caught my eye. Back in the times when we had used the beasts to pull the boats, she had been one of those who had chosen not to go on to salvation after being part of the beast. She had become my apprentice and companion for many happy centuries. We had done our duty with a happy will and travelled all over the network.
We drank the cool water provided and talked for some time. It remained morning as it sometimes did in that enchanted land, as we waited for the Keeper to emerge from the Lodge. Nobody intruded into our conversation and we held hands for some time, taking a transitory pleasure from physical contact. The bell began to ring in the tower and as the peals rang out the Keeper strode forth from the great iron studded double doors. 
This was Ba’al, an arch-demon from the battalions of hell. He was magnificent! The Keeper had eyes that glowed like fiery pits and a horned head much like mine when I dealt with the sinners that I helped aboard the back of the boat. As black as darkest night, with wings of scarlet red, he stood three times the height of any of us there. We bowed in awe and subservience as he took to the skies. Above the lagoon he paused transfixed in the sky and pointed his clawed finger to the centre of the pool. The water boiled and began to swirl into a vortex, reaching deep into the portals of hell itself. The boats strained at their moorings and pulled against the ropes. Lightening split the skies and thunder boomed, so that the earth itself shook! As the demon hung there above the whirlpool, the first of the damned began to surface and swam to the sterns of the boats moored up in lines. The holds opened and the ‘boat imps’ shepherded them inside. Those that they missed were snared by hooked tentacles and dragged over the side. Few of them were overlooked!
Ba’al returned to his lodge and stood in front of the iron-studded doors and made a gesture. The whirlpool subsided and the narrow boats began to gently rock at their moorings. Those sinners that had made it to the shore found that the imps of Satan were waiting for them and herded them through a smaller door in the side of the Lodge. They would be allocated to later boats coming here for replenishment.
A deathly silence prevailed and the Ferrymen began to leave and untie each narrow boat. One by one they pulled away from the Keeper’s Lodge. As they reached the edge of the lagoon a waterway would open up and close behind each boat. Each boat pulled well now that the engine hold was full of sinners.
I turned to my once companion and said, “Shall we travel together for as long as we can? It cannot be long before we enter the last lock and start the journey all over again!”
“Let us rope the boats together then and see how far we can travel in tandem,” she said and stepped onto her boat.
We tied the boats fore and aft and made our way towards the sedges at the end of the lagoon. A wide opening lay before us that two boats could easily navigate and we smiled to each other. It was nice to have company while we made our collection. We both pushed the levers into forwards and felt the engines respond.
It was still morning and the light was clear and sharp.

Barry E Woodham.


Tales of the Ferryman. - 7.Soul Taker.


I have been a willing servant of the Dark Lord, as a Ferryman, for many, many centuries, long enough to see the changes in humanity, wrought by the passing years. Long before the industrial revolution I followed the beast, as it pulled the narrow boat along the waterways towards the Final Lock. My universe lies parallel to the world of the living and is the place that the souls of the dead drop down into the waters that I sail. These are the souls that hang in the balance, that are either not wicked enough to go direct to hell, or pure enough to go beyond the Final Lock.
I can see through the veil that separates the two worlds, quite plainly, but I am forbidden and unable to interfere in the affairs of mortal man. The boat has an instinct for the arrival of souls and always seems to be in a place that is about to receive them. We are a partnership the narrow boat and I. The boat is the ultimate judge and decides which souls go to the front and those who will serve in the engine hold. I am not allowed to interfere in any of these judgements. My task, alone, is to navigate the boat through the network of waterways to that Final Lock and back to the depths of hell. Sometimes I feel a deep frustration at my inability to reach out for the wicked and take their souls to the engine-room to suffer the torments of the damned.
On this bright morning, the waterway had wound itself into a wood; a mile or so from a minor road in the mortal world and the boat had stopped. I looked into the land of the living and found that I was the unwilling witness to the rape of a child. She was about eight or nine years of age and so very pretty. The man was tall and powerful with a strength powered by his lust. His hands were locked around the girl’s neck as he arched his back in ecstasy. Her clothes had been torn off and discarded by the side of the unholy coupling. His trousers had been pulled down to his ankles and his coat had been laid on the grassy bank as mattress. She had bled profusely from his usage and her little face was contorted with agony. Now finished, he strangled the child and lifted her from his still erect penis and threw her down into the undergrowth to lie like a broken doll.
The child’s soul dropped into the water by the front of the boat where many hands reached out to her and helped the frightened little girl aboard where she was comforted. I raged inside that this animal in human form could not be punished. It was obvious to me that this man had done this before. How many more would he send to an early death before he was stopped? More than ever at this time I wished that I could reach the perpetrator of this heinous crime. 
The Dark Lord spoke quietly in my ear, “Take him!”
A rift appeared between the two universes and I stepped through.
The man stood up with his trousers still around his ankles, his face contorted with fear and screamed, as I came towards him.
In this world I stood nearly nine foot tall and looked every inch a demon from the depths of hell. I had talons at the ends of my fingertips as long as dinner knives and sharp horns projected from my forehead. My eyes shone with reflected fire and I could have torn a bear in half. With one swift movement I held him by the chest, sinking my claws into his skin and lifted the pervert, one handed into the air. As he wriggled and screamed in terror I slowly enfolded his testicles in my other talon tipped hand and ripped them off. I then slowly disembowelled him and let his intestines fall onto the ground and stared into his face until the light went out from his eyes.
I dropped his body to the ground where it lay now unscathed, all damage repaired as though it had never happened and made my way back to the boat. Once through the rift, it closed over and from the back of the boat I could see the rapist floating in the water. His terrified eyes met mine. I used the boathook to spear him through his chest and dragged him onto the back of the narrow boat, where the hold was open and ready for him. There above the open hold I shook him off the hook and his naked body dropped into the hot chains that the waiting imps had ready. In a very short time, they had him shackled to the wheel with the other sinners. The scent of fresh meat sent the hold-rats crazy and they fed on the newcomer, tearing great lumps from his body. Each bite healed over within a few minutes, but not the pain. 
I watched the hold seal over and began to change my appearance back to the grey- haired human being that steered the narrow boat. The boat pulled away from the wood and made its way to the next collection point and I made my way to the front, leaving the boat on automatic. There was a freshly gathered soul to be reassured and to be comforted. All I could tell her was that the nasty man had been punished and would not hurt anyone else. I would do this, knowing that this would not ease the torment of her parents, who were yet to know that she had suffered and died.
Sometimes even the Dark Lord intervenes in the affairs of men, bringing punishment early to a chosen few. The Lord of Hell has much to do in the affairs of men. He is a force of punishment to those who would willingly follow him in the practises that they think he requires. He is the scourge of evil and ultimate judge of mankind’s follies. Those who serve him, serve him willingly and level his justice to his laws.  
  
Barry E Woodham.

Tales of the Ferryman. - 8.Soul Hunter.


After more than a century of cruising along the waterways of the netherworld, collecting souls and ferrying them to the Final Lock, I found myself once more bound to the Hell-mouth docks. The bottom of the boat required a new coating of liquid Imp to stave off the corrosions that attacked the hull, as we wended our way along those lonely canal systems, climbing towards the final destination of the boat-load of souls, both good and bad.
Those souls that the boat judged good enough were allowed to climb the nets at the bow and come aboard. Souls of the damned were accommodated at the stern and interred into the engine hold to power the boat. The Imps of Hell had devised a propelling system that required a large wheel to be turned by pushing the spokes similar to a capstan. This turned the propeller at a steady rate depending on my operation of the controlling lever. The further I pushed it forwards, the faster it would go and the same in reverse. The years spent in the engine room cleansed the sin from the damned, so that they too could be freed into whatever lay beyond the Final Lock. 
The journey back needed no power from the engine, as the slide down into Hell was all in one direction and the narrow-boat would be helped by unseen hands from time to time. I had done this for thousands of years. At last the boat shuddered to a final stop and the water drained away, leaving the hull exposed to the machinations of the boat-builders. I stepped off, onto the walkway that led off into the greater depths of Hell and watched a senior daemon walk purposefully towards me.
I recognised him as Azazel, one of the Dark Lord’s closer minions. He was the same stature as myself and of equal rank. We had dealt with each other before on many occasions over the centuries.
I held my clawed hand out to him to grasp his and said, “Azazel, my old friend, what brings you down to the Hell-mouth docks? Are you looking for a position as a Ferryman?” 
He grasped my offered hand in one as scaly and clawed as my own and laughed at my joke and replied, “Not I! I am not happy with emptiness over my head, like you, out in all weathers!”
“Then what brings you to the docks? My boat will be laid up for some while as the hull needs re-proofing, so I have a little time on my hands,” I replied.
“The Dark Lord knows this and wishes to speak with you,” he answered and gestured for me to follow him back the way he came. 
The way was long and ran along the edge of a deep cliff far below us and led to iron studded ramparts. The speed at which we travelled left little time for conversation and I knew better than to ask what He needed of me. Azazel led my through the great gates of Hell and finally into the anti-chamber where Satan sat at his desk. In front of him was a massive screen showing the sorting of souls. A portion of the screen was blank and this area occupied the Dark Lord’s attention.
He swung round on his steel swivel chair and looked down on me as I bent one knee in obeisance. The Lord of Punishment laughed to see my puzzled face and lowered his hand for me to step onto. Gently he put me on his desktop so that we could talk to each other without me having to shout.
“Long ago, you were once mortal,” he exclaimed and stared at my tiny frame. “What were you, to bring you to me?”
“I was a Viking, Sire. I was a destroyer of farmer’s dreams, a killer of men, without mercy. Many souls of men, women and children I sent to judgement before their allotted time.”
“Yes, I remember you! A long time you toiled inside the beast that dragged the Soul Collectors’ boat until your unworthy soul was cleansed. Why did you stay?”
I stood without fear in front of my Master and answered, “There was need of such as I, within the scheme of things that co-exist within your realm. Beyond the Final Lock is another realm that I feel has no use for me, so I remain here, willingly, as your servant. I have come to understand that you are not a force of evil, rather an instrument of punishment to those who would follow what they believe to be your will. I am content to serve that will in the knowledge that my soul is better put in your service than to be free in another realm.”
“Your honesty impresses Me,” the Dark Lord replied and glanced again at the blank portion of the screen. “What was your mortal name?” 
“My name was Sven Erickson. Some called me ‘Blood-axe, the Destroyer’ and I died in battle, finding that Valhalla did not exist, only punishment for my sins. Now I am the Ferryman without a name, but with a purpose.”
“Well Sven Erickson, I have a task for you. There is an area of Hell that has ceased to tell me where the souls of the damned have gone. I want you to go there and regain those souls for me. They are escaping punishment and the balance has been disturbed. You will be furbished with whatever help you need I will allocate you three of the Hounds of Hell to sniff them out. Ba’al shall leave the Keeper’s Lodge with a detachment of questing Imps. If there is anything else that you need: - ask!”
He touched me on my shoulder with his index finger and I began to grow until I became the size of Ba’al himself. My little finger grew and extended with a flap of skin that joined with my lengthening toes. I now sat upon the desk and wriggled off to stand besides the Dark Lord, who now was only twice my new size. Within my mind was imprinted the map of Hell and in particular the area that had shut down its information to my Master. I was not only much larger, but I had new skills. I flapped my new wings and rose above the desk and flew through the walls, towards the kennels where the hounds of Hell were kept.
These things were big! They were twice the size of the beast that once pulled the narrow boats. Up until now I had only heard about them and knew little about them except for how they were fed. Those that had been judged by the Lord of Darkness to have committed acts of wickedness beyond certain limits were fed to the Hounds over and over again. They would be crunched up and swallowed, only to re-assemble from the excrement left in the cage, to endure being fed again to the slavering pack. Immediately they saw me the pack came whining to the bars of the cage to be touched and fussed. I reached into the bulging sack upon the wall and threw a handful of sinners over the top and into the cage. I soon picked out the three quickest and strongest of the Hounds, opened the first gate of two, taking care to shut it behind me. 
The Hounds of Hell are dark in colour with blood red spots sprayed down each side. Their teeth are the size of carving knives and hooked slightly backwards. Whatever they latch onto cannot escape their fearsome bite. The ears stand out from their heads and come to points, with tufts of fur at the end. The feet are as broad as dinner-plates and will carry them over swampy ground without sinking. Jutting out from these are talons that come to blunt points, extending from the pads. I looked at them and decided that these were capable of giving purchase into any type of ground. 
The Hunt-master came towards me from the back of the cage and proudly said, “They could leave score marks in granite!”
She was a daemon of the same rank as my new self and the same size. Around her waist hung a pleated, leather skirt, with a whip used as a belt. Her four breasts were full of milk and dribbled continually. Her hair swept down to her shoulders in waves of fiery red. A musky scent filled my nostrils, making this new body respond in ways the Ferryman never did. I swept my hand behind her head and pulled her towards me, parting her leather skirt so that my erect organ could penetrate her. She lifted to meet me and locked her legs behind me. We dropped down into the straw and hounds with only one thought in mind. Both of us entered the frenzy of demonic mating that stilled time itself.
Afterwards she playfully bit me on the arm and tweaked my nipple between her claws and said huskily, “You’re a new one! The Dark Lord has raised you up from the ranks. You have yet to find out what this body can do! He has sent you on a mission with the Hounds of Hell. How many did he say you could use?”
“Three!”
She laughed and replied, “Then I will go with you. You will never control three of my beauties on your own. I am Diana, the huntress and all of the pack obeys me. Come ‘New One’; let us be on our way. We hunt the souls of the damned. Open the cage gates and let us be on our way.”
Once outside the kennels we took to the air and made our way steadily towards the break in Hell’s catchments area. The Hounds of Hell covered the ground below us with a steady lope. Under a darkling sky, Ba’al and a legion of questing Imps that hopped tirelessly over the terrain, met us before we entered the blank area on Satan’s screens. 
In front of us lay a region of mists that eddied and swirled in strange patterns. Superimposed over an area of Hell, lay a piece of the nether world. My old world of the waterways that was punctured with entry rifts from the world of the living had been layered over into Hell. There came a pulse and the area extended behind us, leaving our incursion from Hell firmly inside the lands of the living. The area was expanding! 
An enormous rift opened up in front of us. Three daemons, thousands of questing Imps and the Hounds of Hell spilled through into the universe that housed the living. We found ourselves bewildered by the technology of the mortal world. People were screaming and running for their lives pursued by the eager Hounds of Hell. Diana called them back to her side while the Imps quickly got in front of the terrified crowd and drove them back to stand in front of us. Most of the humans had passed out through sheer fear and the Imps dragged them back, but there were a few that had enough courage to stand and stare.
I altered my size and shape to how I looked to the souls that made it to the bow of the narrow boat. Ba’al and Diana could not do this, so remained their intimidating, natural size. The imps were black or blood red and had horns projecting from their foreheads. Naked, they displayed their genitals for all to see and had pointed barbed tails. They were half the size of the people, but there were thousands of them holding pitchforks and making high-pitched whistling noises. With their cloven hooves and clawed hands, there was no mistaking what they were.
I slowly walked towards the shrinking crowd and asked, “Who is in charge?”
I turned and looked around at the group of people, who were all dressed in white clothing from head to toe. They even had hoods over their heads so that all we could see were their eyes. Pipes led from their mouthparts back to the wall where they were connected. 
One of the suited people came towards me, stripping the hood from his face and pulling the mask down.
“I guess that would be me,” he said. “My name is Professor Erickson, Leif Erickson and I am responsible for this project.”
I stared at this possible descendant of mine and laughed until tears trickled down my face and replied, “I am Sven Erickson and last walked this Earth two and a half thousand years ago! You, my possible many times removed son, have opened a rift into Hell! I suggest that you stop whatever you are doing rather quickly and hope that we all return from whence we came. AND no, I will not answer any of your questions. There will be enough religious problems in your world without adding to them. I will tell you that all of you are wrong! If I were you I would destroy whatever pictures you have taken and silence the press if you can! Oh yes, we do understand your civilization to a certain degree, but you will never understand ours from this side of the rift!” I looked at the signs fixed to the wall and said, “Now switch the super-collider off, before the really important beings from our side notice what you have done!”
Leif Erickson switched off the power generators and reset the dials to zero. The rift disappeared and so did the denizens of Hell. That’s when the people who were there went into hysterics. I extended my power and erased most of their memories, leaving behind enough to keep them awake at night. My many times removed grandson, I left with the entire scene indelibly printed on his memory while we returned to the netherworld.. 
All of this we could see from our point of view. I re-attained my size and shape and Ba’al, Diana and I set about gathering up all the misplaced souls for judgement. The questing Imps rapidly found them and the Hounds of Hell soon dug out those that tried to hide. 
We knew that these were the souls of the wicked as they would fall, to be gathered by the tireless Ferrymen who cruised the Waterways of the netherworld. As for me, well I had a new position to hang onto; - Satan’s trouble-shooter. My life from here on would be much more interesting!  

Barry E Woodham.

Tales of the Ferryman. - 9. Soul Beginning.


I had never had much time for the Shaman and his talk of Gaia, the mother of all creatures and of this world. His imagined world of the spirits and after-life with its care of the dead had never appealed to me. To me it was all the drug-induced ramblings of a deranged man, who decorated himself with bones and feathers and stayed inside the cave. He never joined the hunt and instead drew pictures on the walls by torch-light. The tribe fed him, looked after his needs almost to the level of our leader and could not see through his ranting, at a man who had successfully invented a position we did not need! 
It was at his insistence that we buried our dead with provisions for the after-world. My protestations that it was sheer idiocy to waste a good spear and choice cuts of fresh meat on a corpse had nearly got me thrown out of the tribe. The others just couldn’t see it from my point of view and they preferred the Shaman’s explanations to mine! 
One night, the elders took me aside and warned me that Grad’s entries into the spirit world provided the tribe with directions to hunt and the surety, that those who died trying to feed the tribe would be rewarded in the spirit world. All of the tribe believed in him and the other tribes looked upon our gathering of humanity as greatly fortunate to have such a holy man amongst us! ‘Holy’ was a new word that had found its way into our language. To me it meant a shyster had found a way to tap into the gullibility of my friends and live off their endeavours. At threat of spear-point and expulsion into the wilderness, I agreed to keep my feelings to myself.
The years passed by and Grad took under his ‘wing’ an acolyte whose imagination was even greater than the old man’s and once Grad had died, he took over the position of Shaman to my tribe. Never once did the new follower of Gaia need to hurl a spear at a charging mammoth, or do anything close to extending the survival of my tribe. He was allocated the best meat, while the women cooked and gathered food for him from nature’s bounty. They gladly bore his children, who were also trained into the new function we had managed to live without from the dawn of time.
As I grew older, I fumed at the injustice of this system that had started when I was a young man. The parasite grew fat on the attendance of the tribe, while I seethed with increasing anger. Finally, after a bad hunt, when a woolly mammoth had stomped on two of our members and another man hurled onto the very stakes we had placed to impale the creature on, we returned empty-handed. Grad’s ‘son’ stood and railed at the tribe for not bringing back fresh meat for his hearth. He promised that Gaia would turn her face from us and leave us to starve if we did not go back and hunt again towards the West. We had circled round and made our way back to our cave from that direction and the land was empty of game. He was sending us into certain hardship and maybe death.
I stood in front of the hunters and seethed as the Shaman cursed our empty handedness. Without thinking, I let my anger get the better of me and hurled my flint-tipped spear straight into his fat chest. He died in front of me, clutching the hardened shaft of the spear as he dropped to his knees.
His eldest son cradled his father in his arms and cried out, “Gaia requires this man’s life in exchange! Kill him where he stands.”
I felt the sharpness of several flint tipped spears as they penetrated my back and the pain spread into blackness as I fell. The tribe fell upon my body and carried it outside into the night. There they hurled it down the cliff to lie where the beasts of darkness could feast upon me. By morning there would be very little left. What amazed me was that although I was dead, I could see all of this as clearly as though I was still alive. I was somewhere else and yet the mortal world was still visible to me, but I was not alone.
The mortal world retreated and I found myself in a great cave of some kind, stood in front of a presence. Whatever this thing was, He was not human and He was larger than five woolly mammoths. It was definitely male, as he sat naked on a carved stone and made no effort to hide that fact. He was far stranger than anything that the Shaman had described to his faithful. Smaller versions of his type scuttled here and there building something around Him. I looked around and was amazed to see such activity going on. My tribe was a large and important one amongst the gatherings, but there were many thousands of these creatures all busy, busy! I would later learn to call them Imps.
The creature that sat upon the carved block of stone reached down to me and held out His hand for me to step onto. I walked forwards and stood upon it, avoiding the clawed fingertips and He raised me up level with his chin.
“You have courage,” he said, conjuring up a table of stone and placing my naked form upon it.
I stood staring into a face as bright red as the flames of the cave fire, with sharp horns sprouting from his forehead. His eyes were yellow and slit like a cat’s. They were full of curiosity and without malice. 
“Who and what are you?” I asked.
He laughed gently to himself and answered, “I’m not quite sure of that myself, small human soul called Rotan. This is almost as new to me as it must be to you. It would appear that I am the Lord of Darkness, the Lord of Punishment to those who have lived in your world and have failed to be able to qualify to travel directly to Gaia’s realm. Those who kill their fellow man for gain or pleasure come to me for judgement. There are those who hang in the balance and are worthy of saving. There are those who are my side of the balance and can be saved after punishment. You are one such as these.”
I stared at this powerful creature and asked, “Can you tell me where I am?”
“Your kind as yet, has no name for this place. It is a place of judgement that waits for all of humanity, at the end of your span,” the being answered. “It is a new place that has been called into being by those above Gaia that created the multiversity.  
“Am I to be judged then for my actions in the world of my birth? Is it because I killed a fool, who would have sent more of my friends to their deaths, while sitting in safety?”
“You took another human being’s life,” he answered.
“I killed an idiot who had my tribe under his spell and cared nothing for them, except that they fed him,” I protested and folded my arms, continuing to stare the creature full into those lambent eyes.
“A moot point,” he agreed. “Yet the fact remains that you are my side of the balance due to the killing of another human being.”
We continued to look each other over and the being stood on great cloven hooves sweeping a barbed tail from side to side. The creature left me stood upon the high table of stone and stared through the cave walls to a place that only he could see.
“You do not fear me,” he said and smiled, showing many sharp teeth.
I answered simply, “I am already dead. I can see no malice in your eyes, great Lord. I cannot alter what must be, so must endure what this existence will throw my way. I did not believe in Gaia and you have proved me wrong. I still do not regret taking the life of that babbling fool who lived well off the backs of my friends. I find myself here with you instead of not existing at all, as I believed would happen, so whatever you decide to do with me. I accept!”
“You do have courage indeed. Your tribe could do with more such as you to protect it from the vagaries of your dangerous existence. Yet here you are exhibiting qualities that I could find quite useful! I can see into your mind and I can see nothing sinful that requires any form of real punishment. You are not a damned soul, but you are here to do my will! All too soon there will be cities built and with spare time will come wickedness. There will be much for you to do then, I fear!”
 He reached down to the table-top for me and placed me on his shoulder where I could hold onto the mane of hair that hung to his waist.
“Come with me,” he said, “I have an idea that will enable you to make amends. There are many parallel dimensions to the world of the living where you have come from. I rule these Lands of Punishment that cross over to the Netherworld that many of the in-the-balance souls find themselves. These will need gathering and taking to their final destination. The Netherworld is a world of marshes, lakes and water channels where the journey will test them. I have had my Imps build a craft that is long and narrow to negotiate these canals. I did not realise it until now, but I have been waiting for such as you to reach me. I shall send such men as you into the Netherworld to collect those souls.” 
I held tight to the hair by the being’s pointed ears and stared down at the busy Imps as they carved a strange wooden craft that was to be my new home. The Lord of Punishment called it a narrow-boat. There was a flat piece at the front followed by a roofed section that stretched along to the back. At the place that I would learn to call the stern was a flat area that had a moving bar fixed to the end. Here was where I would stand and guide the boat along the bends and twists of the water-ways. Slightly in front of this was an open hold that held benches inside with large sticks that projected into the water each side and were held by a collection of what I would also learn to call ‘the damned’. Knowledge flowed into my brain and much became apparent. I realised that the sticks were called oars and the bar at the end was called a tiller. This I began to find alarming, as the only time I had been afloat, was when I used a tree-trunk to get me to the other side of the river! I had never seen anything remotely like this vessel before, during my lifespan.
The Lord of Punishment laughed at my concern and said, “All you need to know is in your mind. I put it there! There will be many more of these boats as time goes on. You are now in service to ‘Me.’ Until the time that will come, you will be my Ferryman, a collector of souls. You will explore this Netherworld and seek out with the aid of the boat, the cargo that you will carry. Imps have been incorporated into the substance of the boat, so the boat will choose who will travel at the front and who will labour at the back.”
He snapped his fingers and a giant, black haired woolly mammoth appeared at the bow to pull the boat along. I gasped in awe at the beast as it trumpeted in impatience to be on its way.
“This is yours to travel with. See that he is well looked after and he will willingly work for you. Should a sinner come too near to him he will absorb him or her into his frame. Those that find they can only ride at the back will find that the hold will take only them. Do not interfere with either decision. You will find that you will change shape, depending on whom you confront. To those at the front you will be the Ferryman, a man much the same as the soul I see sat on my hand, but much larger. To those at the back you will become a daemon from hell to be feared and obeyed. You are now to all purposes immortal and cannot be harmed except by ME! Do your task for me and do it well. I will see you again from time to time, just to check that all is as it should be.”
With that he placed me on the deck of the black-hulled narrow boat and turned away. I found myself clothed in well tanned leather garments with a good pair of knee-length boots. There were assorted furs hung inside the shelter built for me to live. A long spear with a hook at the end lay along the roof in two y-shaped bollards. There were more possessions on this boat that were mine to care for than I had ever owned as a hunter- gatherer for the tribe. Now I was a Hunter-gatherer for the Dark Lord!   
The Hell-mouth dockyards were already starting on the next boat, so I hurried along the boat to the mammoth and climbed onto its broad neck. I dug my heels into the harsh hair behind his ears and we began to strain against the harness.
“My name was Rotan,” I said into the cavernous ear, “I am now a Ferryman doing the Dark Lord’s bidding.”
The woolly mammoth trumpeted a raucous shriek into the air and we were on our journey of exploration, toiling out of Hell and into the Netherworld

Barry E Woodham.

The Tales of the Ferryman, - 10.Soul Reaper.


The long climb out of the lands of punishment was at last behind us and at last the nether world extended before into the distance. My name was Rotan when I lived in the world of the living and I was the first Ferryman to be appointed by the ‘Lord of Punishment’. Pulling the boat was a giant black mammoth that had been assigned to me. Sometimes I rode him and sometimes I walked beside him as he pulled the strange craft that the imps had fashioned. There were times when I would have to ride the boat and apply myself to the tiller and allow the beast to come aboard onto the flat platform at the front. This would happen when the waterway developed a strong current that pulled the boat along.  It was a strange place, a world of marshes, lakes and water channels that criss-crossed the landscape. Very little seemed to live here and it was eerily quiet, but now and again things rustled in the reed-beds. There were times that I could see plainly into the world of the living, but more often the view was closed.
It was against this backdrop of un-natural quiet that I heard a splash and a cry of fear. More splashes and people crying out in bewilderment followed this first drop into the water. I steered the narrow boat towards the commotion and signalled the mammoth to stop. I quickly made my way towards the bow and helped the people out of the water via the nets that hung down the side of the boat.
There must have been forty or more people clustered together at the bow consisting of women, children and hunters, all frightened and confused. It did not take long for the leader to push his way to the front and confront me. He was stocky, well muscled with the first greying of his black hair beginning to show and naked as the day that he was born. I looked at all of them and they were all just the same.
“Who are you and where is this place? A few moments ago we felt the Earth shake and rocks began to fall around us, inside our cave,” he said.
“My name is Rotan. I am a Ferryman sent to save you and care for you as best I can. As to where you are, I am afraid that you are all dead. This is the ‘Nether World’ where I collect the souls of the deceased and take them to the ‘Final Lock’. At this place you will become the responsibility of Gaia and my task will be over.”
The man stared at me in disbelief and answered, “How can we be dead? I breathe and I can feel this wooden thing beneath my feet. My eyes can see the countryside around us and I recognise the beast that pulls this craft as a mammoth. You are a man just like me. Explain to me and my people where we are and what your purpose is.”
I sighed and looked at these first souls that I had rescued from the waterway and thought about how I could explain to these country-people of mine. They were hunter-gathers with the same roots and the same origins as myself.
I asked, “Did your tribe have a shaman who served the goddess, the great mother? If so have him come to me and let us talk together. He will be better able to explain to you.”
The leader turned and called out, “Shab, come forward and speak with this man.”
I watched as an old man came forwards from the crowd and approached me.
“I am Shab, shaman to my people and a servant of Gaia, the great mother of all.”
“Gaia has gathered your people from the cold earth and at the moment of your deaths, transported you to this world to stay with me until she sees it fit to accept you into her realm. It would appear that we do not go straight to her land and I must find the way to take you there,” I replied. “Fear not, you will not hunger while we move across these water-ways. There will be others of your kind to pick up along the way. It is my duty to take you to her. I only know that eventually this craft of wood will find the way and we will break up and go our separate ways.”
The shaman looked deep into my eyes and saw something there that stopped him for a moment and he said, “What did you do to offend Gaia that you remain with this craft while we go on to her realm.”
“In temper I killed one such as you when he would have sent the hunters to an area bare of game. He was a parasite who played on the fears of my tribe. I know now that to kill another human being in that fashion has a punishment that has been enacted on me. I have been set upon this task to make amends by the Lord of Punishment. The task given to me was fair and I do not complain. Had any of your tribe been deemed evil or worthy of punishment you would have been incarcerated at the back of this narrow boat to help propel this craft along. See me as I would be, had you been judged to be punished.”
The shaman’s face paled as he saw my demonic self that ruled the stern of the boat.
“Know this shaman, you are in no danger from me. I must care for you until we get to Gaia’s realm. You are old. You do not need to be. After death your new body will not age or hunger and the children will grow into adults eventually ready to enter the lands beyond the final lock. Now go to your people and explain to them in ways that they will understand.”
The old man stood silent and began to straighten himself as the years fell away from him. Within a few moments he had become much younger and fitter. His white hair coloured into a deep brown and the grey disappeared as I watched. He smiled at me and grasped my hands in friendship.
“I truly believe you, Ferryman. Look at me! I will return to my tribe and explain to them,” he said and walked away.
With that I leapt off the boat and climbed up onto the mammoth’s great neck and urged him to once more lean into the harness and pull the narrow boat along the waterways on a voyage of discovery. As time went by and the boat journeyed on, we pulled more and more people from the marshes. All could remember very little of their time there until I picked them up. It was as if they only came to life when the boat came into range. Judging by their appearance some of them had been waiting centuries for my arrival and soon the bow was full. It was time to make for the ‘Final lock’ and unload my cargo towards Gaia’s realm.
To my satisfaction one of the punished souls pulling the oars at the back was the false shaman that I had speared through the chest. There were others of his ilk that laboured at the back of the boat, their feet stuck down to the wooden floor and their hands unable to let go of the shafts of the oars. As the Dark lord had said, I did not choose their punishment. The boat judged them and would not allow them to board at the front and allowed them to board only at the stern. The sight of me as a demon was enough to keep them rowing at my commands. 

Barry E Woodham.

Tales of the Ferryman. - 11.Soul Judgement. 


It had been a long cruise from the depths of Hell and the narrow boat had refused to be steered in any other direction than to where it needed to go. The living world was a desolate place in the area that we were travelling. It was a land of unending deserts and baking hot hills. I could not understand what was bringing me to such a place until the mammoth dragged us around yet another hillside and I could see far in the distance the lush green of cultivated lands.
From the waterways of the Netherworld I could see through the veil that separated me from the lands of the living. Over the centuries I had seen a gradual change in the world that I had left. My kinds of people were dying out and a new sort were laying claim to the lands. The hunter-gatherer tribes had learnt the art of domesticating animals and planting crops. As they found new ways of filling their bellies and not risking their lives on hunting expeditions, they found more time to think and plan. I watched as small developments sprang up in fertile valleys and the art of building took place. To begin with they lived in huts of mud and straw inside stockades that protected the people and their animals from the wild beasts of the night. 
The act of ownership seemed to trigger off spates of wickedness between this new breed of people. At the top of the lists after stealing, came murder for gain. This the Lord of Punishment would not tolerate and many an unfairly rich man found himself at the back of my narrow boat pulling the oars after his death. These small settlements grew into towns and prospered, although wickedness increased with wealth. I never judged the souls sent to me; - the boat did that for me. Those who had lived good lives by and large found themselves able to climb the nets at the front into the boat. Those who were judged to need rectification and their souls cleansed came to the back of the boat and laboured at the oars. There were times when there were so many that the woolly mammoth came aboard and stood at the front and allowed the children to climb upon his back while the damned laboured at the oars.
I had taken the last load to the Final Lock and watched them all walk into the bright light and into Gaia’s realm. From there I rode the flow downward, back into the Hell-mouth docks with my beast stood on the forward platform. As the boat approached I could see a familiar horned figure stood waiting for me. He stooped and offered his hand for me to step onto, while the boat settled into dry-dock.
“Rotan,” he said and held me level with his face, “I see another cargo of souls have been delivered into Gaia’s realm.”
“Yes, my Lord. So many laboured at the oars this time, that the mammoth was able to ride on-board a great deal of the way. It seems, as the human race multiplies, so the amount of wickedness increases with it! Yet also there shines occasionally a bright light in the darkness of their souls. I have met a great many who are kind and would feed the stranger that comes to their door.”
“It is because of these people that I need you to alter course from your usual cruising and take your boat partially into the world of the living. To do this you will require some of my power transferred to your discretion.”
The Lord of Punishment stared into my face and deep into my eyes as he said this. I could feel something added inside my mind. There was a connection that led me to HIM. From that connection I became aware of pathways and conduits that would direct power into my command. It terrified me! 
He smiled at my discomfort and said, “I trust you Rotan. You have been a faithful servant for many thousands of years. I have looked into your heart many times and found it constant. Now listen to me carefully. This time the narrow boat will take you through the deserts to a place of great wickedness. Two great cities have been built of dressed stone in a valley at the edge of a mighty river. This is something that you have yet to see and will be repeated over and over again. A man has taken power over these cities and has come to dominate the people who live there. He is a seed of wickedness that must be grubbed out of the fertile soil he controls. You once put a spear into the chest of such a man and ended his life. In doing so you did not end his influence, but those who came after him, used your intervention as a lesson.
This is different because he is well organised and what is worse, he has influenced others to follow him blindly into the practise of human sacrifice. He has the affront to claim that he serves such as ME and that I require the blood and life of young men and women! This must stop! I cannot intervene directly, but I can send someone to act for me. That person is you. Destroy these cities in such a way that it will be remembered as a punishment for such wickedness. I will leave it up to you as to how you do this. Now I must go and be about my business. Do this thing well Rotan and do not be afraid to call on others for help if you find you need it!”
With that statement ringing in my ears, the Lord of Punishment strode away into the depths of Hell. I set forth immediately to do his bidding.
Now some weeks later I had travelled through the deserts to find my destination. I stopped the mammoth and gazed into the distance. So there were the two Cities that I had travelled through the desert to see. I had never seen anything like it in the Northern lands that I had grown up in and cruised my narrow boat, hunting for souls. There were paved roads leading up to each city from the edges of the cultivated lands. Irrigation channels criss-crossed the fertile landscape from the river that I could just discern in the far distance. What caught my breath were the high buildings and bridges that connected the cities to each other. Towers built of brick stood each side of the road giving a view for miles across the desert. Patrolling these towers and battlements were metal-clad soldiers. In the fields people toiled under the fierce sun and to my horror, men were being whipped, to drag stone blocks along the roads from the docks to a building project. I urged the mammoth to drag my narrow boat through the cultivated area and down to the river. Using the Netherworld to approach, I could not be seen by a living person. Already though, the boat was being approached by the souls of the people who had died here since the city had first been built. Hundreds of them climbed aboard the nets at the front. Dozens of them found themselves only able to scramble into the back and soon found themselves fixed to the oars. The boat travelled onwards until it reached the river and I made it partly fixed to both worlds. Here I anchored while I spoke to the poor souls at the front to find out all I could about the situation inside the twin Cities.
The man who ran the priesthood was called Kane-tan, and had taken over from the previous high priest by slipping a dagger through his ribs in the middle of the night while he slept a drug induced sleep. It was his idea to have a golden bowl inserted upon the lap of the dog-headed idol to catch the blood of the sacrifices. These poor souls were first raped by Kane-tan, before offered up naked to the bowl and their throats slit over it. He then drank a cupful of it and smeared some of the blood on his chest, chanting gibberish to the unholy congregation. The terrible thing was that his followers found the young men and women for him to offer up to the idol made of stone and beaten gold. All the time the temple was being extended by slave labour to increase the power of the new god.
Within the city were many who did not believe in the dog-headed god and were terrified of the ‘finders’ who were part of Kane-tan’s followers. They could not escape from the city, as soldiers made sure that no one left unless for trade, leaving their family behind them as hostages.
My mind reached out and I ‘called’ for more Ferrymen and narrow boats to take on the souls of the dead and to be also carriers for the living. I felt the connection to each and every boat-master as they swung their crafts towards my general direction. It would take some time for them to arrive, so now it was time for me to enter the cities and see for myself those who were worthy of saving and those who would perish inside these doomed cities.
I took the mammoth with me and sat astride his mighty neck as we made our way from the docks into the outskirts of the city. We could not be seen, as we moved along the road, but I could see only too well the aspects of city life. Slavery, brutality and pain were the awful legacy of those unfortunately not of the ruling class. I saw more blood leaking from the backs of men as they pulled blocks of stone into the positions decreed by slave-masters than I had ever seen before. Food was prepared and cooked for those in power of the highest quality, while those who toiled, ate scraps from the leftovers. I saw children taken from their families to enter the temple cells to await rape and bloodletting to feed the created God.
Over the weeks I explored the cities. The buildings were richly carved and told the history of the twin cities and their kings. A newly built wall was dedicated to Kane-tan and the needs of the dog-headed God. The carvings set into this wall were the most sickening of all. I was filled with fury that my own species could be capable of such evil in the name of my master. I turned away and made my way into the quarters of the servants of these un-holy tormenters and soon found a different people. They had wandered the fertile areas of the desert lands with their flocks of sheep and camels until they had reached these cultivated lands. I found by instinct the leader of these people at a slightly better set of rooms. His family were preparing the evening meal as I knocked at the door.
They let me in and shared their food with me in an act of kindness, as the food that they had would scarcely feed themselves. I broke the bread from their loaves into pieces and made more until the table was covered in fresh bread. I also increased the amount of the stew from the pot that they ladled into their bowls. I listened to all that they could tell me about the twin cities while we ate. As the feast drew to a close they began to be uneasy, as the food did not run out. I used a little of my Lord’s power to fill the table once more and in doing so caused a light to glow around my body. This got the attention of the people even more.
“Ask of your neighbours to join us and eat,” I said, “and while they eat you may listen to me for I have much to tell you.”
I waited a while as the room began to fill with people and the food continued to feed the hungry mouths. They began to stare at me with growing astonishment as word spread about the miracle at their leader’s house. I sat and continued to break the bread into more pieces, handing them around the crowded room.
“Listen to me,” I said and stood amongst them. “The time has come for all of you to leave this place of wickedness. I have been sent by my Lord to set you free from this evil place. At the docks by the river you will find my boat and many more just like it with masters like me waiting for you. Outside of this dwelling you will find a woolly mammoth stood in the shadows. Only you will be able to see him. Do not be afraid of him. He will lead you to my boat and the others tied up to my craft. Hold onto his hair and each other and the soldiers will not see you as you make your break for freedom. Once on the boats you will wait for me and we will sail away from this cursed place. Now gather all your animals, possessions and as much food as you can and make your way there. These twin cities will be destroyed and all the wickedness in them will soon be at the bottom of a great flood.”
They stared at me in wonder and disbelief. Many shook their heads and would not believe my words until those who had gone outside and seen the great beast came back into the candlelight.
“It’s true! Outside in the shadows is a great black woolly mammoth just as this man has said,” said a young shepherd. 
More people came back into the room and added their voices to the throng. Now there became a hurried scramble to leave this area and go.
The leader came up to me and looked into my eyes and said, “Who are you? What kind of man are you to command such power, if you are a man at all?”
I smiled and answered, “I was once a man like you. Now I am the Ferryman who takes the souls of the dead to their final place and I serve the Lord of Punishment. I have been sent to rescue you from this place of wickedness and take you to a safer place. See me briefly, as the damned will see me, once they die.”
I allowed the veil to drop from his eyes so that he could see me, as those who practised human sacrifice would soon be aware. His face went chalk white as the blood drained from his features. I reverted to my human guise before he collapsed upon the dirt floor and held him tightly by his upper arms and increased my glow around us both to give him strength.
“This vision is not for the likes of you and your people. It is for those who would enslave you and use you ill. You have nothing to fear from me. Now go with my beast and be safely upon my craft, while I have urgent business inside the temple of abominations.”
When I stood once more upon the city street I could see that the people had gathered all they could and were holding onto the long hair of the mammoth. Those who could not, held each other hand to hand. Children had scrambled up upon the back of my beast and they loved every moment of being where they were. I turned and made my way towards the temple along the narrow streets.
Soon the streets turned into roads with fine houses built each side. In the gloom of night many slaves were making their way towards the river and the docks. Word had spread from my meeting with the elders. I stepped over the body of a lone soldier who had attempted to stop some escaping servants. As I neared the temple more bodies of slave-masters oozed blood onto the sand. The slave pens were empty and deserted.
Standing before the temple entrance, I assumed the other shape that my master had given me and stood twice the height of any man, flexing the bulging muscles in my demon’s body. I dragged my talons across the doors and dug them into the polished wood. With minimum exertion I flung them open, tearing them from the hinges and stalked inside. There were many semi-naked priests who stood staring at my entrance into the temple antechamber. The remains of a bloody sacrifice lay in the golden bowl cradled by the dog-headed god. A young boy had been brutally buggered and his throat slit so that his blood had pumped into the bowl that lay at the foot of the idol. By his side lay a girl of no more than twelve summers that had met a similar end. 
I filled my lungs and bellowed his name, “Kane-tan!”
There was a scream of fear from the side of the alter and a naked man covered in blood leapt down the steps. He was decked in gold bracelets and his head was shaven, but for a long plaited pigtail, wound with gold tread. Both ear lobes had been pierced and golden hoops pushed through. 
He knelt at my feet and clutched at my clawed toes and cried out, “Master! You are my God! You have come for me?”
I reached down for the abomination and held him aloft by his upper arms and stared into his terrified eyes. Looking around the temple antechamber I could see squirming on their bellies, the priests of this foul religion made their way to my awesome figure. They reminded me of maggots and they filled me with disgust. I threw the high priest into the blood soaked bowl and left him there to slip around in the sacrificial blood until he slipped upon the ground. It was not for me to judge these pitiful fools. Mankind can be steeped in cruelty and only in my world would punishment be exacted. My fury turned to revulsion that human beings could stoop so low. I tipped the bowl from off the dog-headed god’s lap and spun it across the flagstones to smash against the ornate wall. The gold encrusted statue towered above me and I tore it away from the wall. It smashed against the flagstones crushing the acolytes beneath it. 
Using the powers invested in me by the Lord of Punishment, I reached out with my mind to the area miles down river where a great gorge cut by the river’s passage spilled the waters onwards to a delta. Lightning forked down from the sky and loosened the stones all along the cliff-side. Again and again I caused it to strike and the sides began to crumble. I pulled the walls down and blocked it with boulders the size of this temple. Upstream where the waters cascaded into the main river I caused a great storm to rain and the flood began. I joined the storms together and blended them to deluge the river system. I had no fear that the boats that my compatriots controlled would sink, as they were not quite in this world. The lightning struck the temple tower and cracked the stonework. Fire began to spread as the ornate hangings dropped onto oil lamps. More stonework began to sag and crumble. Only the feet of the dog-headed idol continued to stand firmly against the storm.
Kane-tan struggled to his feet and stared up in terror as the flames began to take hold and cried out, “Great Lord of Blood, what more do you require of us, that we may please you?”
I fixed the creature with a piercing glare and answered, “My master has sent me to remove you from the Earth and all that follow your twisted religion. Both cities will sink beneath a great flood. You, who have offended the Lord of Punishment by falsely calling His name and indulging in human sacrifice, will soon be drowned. You will then be under his rule directly, until your souls are cleansed. I may see you in the next world or one of my colleagues will certainly do so. The cities of Soodaman and Gommra will soon lie forever at the bottom of a great lake. Human eyes will never see them again.”
Already the river was rising and dirty water flooded along the streets towards the temple where the ground began to soften around the base blocks. I walked away from the bewildered, murdering priests, back onto the roads that wound their way back to the river and docks. They were already under water, but I walked back through the Nether world as this one collapsed around me. I extended my wings and rose high above the twin cities and watched the waters sweep in. Underneath me the temple began to subside. Soon I could see the area of the docks and hundreds of narrow boats of all shapes and sizes roped together waiting for me. They resembled a great ark as they bobbed up and down in the constant rain. With me I carried the souls of the two children that Kane-tan had murdered and had sent them to sleep so that they could not see the form that I wore. Again and again I directed the lightning to arc into the city walls, causing them to collapse. 
Behind me the towers of the cities were collapsing as the rising water ate away at the foundations while the valley filled. It did not take long for me to be re-united with my boat and lead the way through the dam by transferring to the Netherworld. We travelled down the delta until we found good grazing lands and let the living depart, while we made our ways to the Final Lock and Gaia’s realm. Already the narrow boats’ holds were filling up with the souls of the damned from the drowned cities.
There would be a great deal of rowing to do, for a very long time until the ferried souls would be totally cleansed. As for me, well I still had my job to do and would still be here, if the Lord of Punishment needed me for anything else. I somehow felt that there would be other occasions that my loyalty would be tested. I could still feel the connection to HIM in the back of my mind as the boat sped through the waters of the Nether World pulled by the oars of the damned. I felt His satisfaction and His approval of my actions and His affirmation that I would be used again in the future.
I would be ready.

Barry E Woodham.

Tales of the Ferryman. - 12.
Soul Power.

I was born thousands of years ago near the great ice sheets that covered the land at that time. The hunter-gatherer life was the only life that I knew. I killed a false shaman who was endangering my tribe, by falsely manipulating them. He would send them into areas of no game and blame them for a poor hunt. He ate of the very best that we brought back to the cave.
 When I died, I found myself stood in a great hall before a mighty being who had horns projecting from his forehead and cloven hooves for feet. He was taller than a tree and his legs were covered in hair. There was no mistaking that he was male, as he stood naked and unconcerned. This was the Dark Lord who ruled the newly created Hell, fashioned to cleanse the souls of the damned. He also held dominion over the world of the living to an extent. His other name was the Lord of Punishment and he took that duty very seriously. He was also scrupulously fair in his dealings with the mortals who found themselves stood before him.
For my sin of the murder of the false shaman he decided to make me a Ferryman to travel the Netherworld and collect the souls who dropped into the waters of that strange place. Many of them had lived blameless lives and these would scramble onto the front of my boat, but the unredeemed sinners could only climb upon the deck of the rear hold. In this place of torment they would pull the oars until my boat made it to the Final Lock and the entrance to Gaia’s realm. In gratitude for a job well done he had offered me the opportunity of going with my cargo onwards into the realm of light. I refused and replied that I was content to serve him here.
When mankind multiplied, due to the discovery of agriculture and the keeping of meat animals instead of hunting, he began to build towns and cities. With time on his hands men invented Gods and persuaded others to worship them and feed the priests that organised these religions. They lived in splendour while others toiled in the fields to keep them. My Dark Lord tolerated them as they all ended up rowing the narrow boats from Hell along the waterways of the Netherworld.
The Lord of Punishment summoned me after a long voyage and gave me a task that would require me to use some of his awesome power.
I was sent to destroy the Twin cities of Soodaman and Gommra that practised human sacrifice and other abominations. I sank them under a flood. Hundreds of narrow boats tied up together and made a giant ark to carry all the people and their flocks and herds. Now a great lake stands where the evil cities once stood. 
I took the great ark through the dam I had made, by traversing the Netherworld and passed through the rocks as though they were mist. Many miles down-river the delta opened out into fertile lands and this is where we stopped to allow the living to disembark. Once that had happened, we once more did our master’s bidding and took the gathered souls to the Final Lock. The events that took place passed into folklore, as a lesson about slipping into evil and the retribution that could come. The people spread out over the fertile areas of the delta and the margins along the river that flooded every year. 
The people expanded and increased their numbers. They wandered the deserts to find more fertile areas to settle. Far from the drowned cities a mighty river that rose in Africa spilled in flood across the desert every year washing the land with fertile silt. Here a civilization arose to dwarf anything that I had ever seen. The centuries passed and they learnt to build in stone and ferry the blocks along the river.
Eventually they built many cities and created more gods. They did not practise human sacrifice, but the rulers became obsessed with the afterlife and planned on taking as much wealth as they could to keep them in splendour. They still dropped into the waters around my boat and most of them learnt to pull on the oars, thus learning humility! It amused my master, until they became so powerful that raiding parties brought back slaves to work on these tombs of the dead. Generations of slaves grew up in this civilization knowing only the slave-master’s lash. 
This angered the Dark Lord. He believed that each human being should have the choice of how he lived and the bondage of slavery made him enraged the most. I found myself once more summoned to HIS presence.
“Rotan, my loyal Ferryman. I have another task for you to carry out in the lands of the living,” the Lord of Punishment commanded. “Your handling of the destruction of the twin cities was without fault and you did not yield to the fury that you kept in check. You did what was necessary to achieve my will without spite or malice on your part. Also your use of my powers was careful and not wasteful in the direction required. I need that restraint again. Will you do my will again?”
I answered, “Great Lord of Darkness, master of Hell and of the world of the Living, I would be honoured to do your bidding.”
“Once again Rotan I will imbue you with the necessary power to use at your discretion. Use it well and give the ruler of this land the choice at least to let these people free. Try and keep the body count to a minimum if you can,” the Dark Lord insisted. He slipped his hand underneath me and I stepped onto his palm. I was raised up to the level of his chin and he breathed over me. This was different to how he had imbued me with his power when he sent me to destroy the twin cities. 
He pulled out several long hairs from his head and handed them to me and I tied them around my waist. They were black and flat and as thick as a leather strap. I could feel the power flowing from Him to my very being. It would provide a connection to the two of us that would allow me to access whatever I needed to use. 
The Dark Lord set me down upon the flagstones of His chamber and spoke to me in gentle tones, “Rotan, you may find that this task is not as easy or as direct as the previous task I set you. Use whatever help that chance puts your way. There are many that are embroiled in slavery to the petty ruler of this civilisation. The people have to treat him as a living god. It would be too easy just to kill him. A lesson must be learnt that will influence future rulers. Go now my faithful servant and do my will.”  
With that my master turned away to deal with another problem leaving me to make my own way back to the docks and to take charge of my narrow-boat. It had a new crew secreted in the hold pulling on the oars and a motley collection of sinners stuffed inside the black woolly mammoth. New liquid imp had spread over the bottom of the boat and had spread their spirits and connection to the Lord of Punishment so that the boat would be able to judge the sinners from the souls that I picked up. 
I led the mammoth aboard and stood it in the middle of the boat on the flatted area next to the hold. I cast off from the bollards and stepped onto the steering platform. Now was the time to get my crew organised and pulling in synchronisation. There were two levers connected to the mechanism that instructed the rowers when to pull and when to stop. If they worked well I would not release the hungry rats from their cages. If not-----! Well, a couple of days of being gnawed and eaten alive usually did the trick.
We had a long way to go to reach the area that the pharaoh held sway so this time I manoeuvred the narrow-boat into the deep lock that would take us straight up to where the nether world impinged onto the real world. I would not be taking on board any of the sinners or the saved on this voyage. Things might change when we began operating in the pharaoh’s backyard.  
The water began to fill the lock and the boat began to surge back and forwards as the currents took hold. As the water flowed underneath the narrow-boat it would lift the stern and propel the boat towards the front gate. I would then direct the ‘crew’ to pull on the oars to keep it from smashing the nose into the solid wall. As the lock began to fill, the entry gate soon disappeared underneath the water and the boat surged back again. Now the ‘crew’ would push on the oars to keep us away from the stone wall at our back. I have lost count of the times that I have see-sawed back and front in that deep, wide lock. The darkness began to lighten as far above us a rectangle of light began to show. 
The change from darkness to light was welcomed and we soon popped out of the deepest lock in the system and into what served as daylight in the Netherworld. As the deck became level with the surrounding stones I stepped off and cast the rope around a bollard. Now all I needed to do was to open the lock-gates by rotating the winch. The lock-gates were too massive to be moved by muscle alone and it needed the mechanical advantage of the winch to move them. Once they were open we could get on our way. Coming towards me was a narrow-boat that I recognised, piloted by an old friend. 
His name was ‘Walks Far around the rocks’ and those of the Ferrymen that had worked the canals of the Netherworld, shortened it to Arrand. I signalled him to stop and ease down as he was carried along by the current towards me. He was almost as old as I was and too came from a hunter gatherer society. He too had had an argument with a Shaman who had sent the tribe too many times in the wrong direction looking for a beast to kill. We had travelled together many times and he had been one of the rescue parties when I had drowned the twin cities.
“I have been given a task by the Lord of Punishment that I feel would benefit by your company,” I called out to him.
Without hesitation Arrand replied, “I’ll need to get the boat tied up first before I can transfer to yours. I’m empty of sinners so I can only ride the current. My anchor is down and I will just allow the boat to dock with the bollards by paying it out. I’ll tie up against the wharf and drag the anchor out and I’m your man!”
With that Arrand sprinted along the boat and jumped to the stone edge of the lock and made the boat fast. I wound one of the Lord of Punishment’s hairs around his waist and he was immediately aware of its power!
We made our way through the network of waterways until at last we could take sight of the rift that we needed to transfer into the ‘real world’ as close to the home palace of the Pharaoh as we could. The Nile was busy and full of barges loaded with stone on their way to whatever building site that Ramesses the second so desired. They were also full of slaves who were called upon to break their backs hauling these blocks of stone to their destination. The whistle of the lash was all too often heard encouraging the poor souls to put even greater effort in their labours.
I had been this way before when Egypt was under the thrall of Seti the first, the father of this young Pharaoh who had also built himself a great tomb. This new ruler was determined to surpass all that his father had built. The difference between the two rulers was that Seti had built his tomb with Egyptian labour and had asked for volunteers from the people to leave behind their farms and homes for a year or two and work for him. He had rewarded those who shone in their labours and welcomed those who had renounced their old ways to learn new skills. Thus a whole new body of skilled artisans took their place amongst the populace. Young men became mathematicians and architects leading the endeavours of the newly skilled workers. A time of learning and expansion took hold.
Upon the death of the old despot, Ramesses determined to out-do his father’s works and instituted an army of slave-takers that scoured the borders of the empire for fresh workers. Whole families were taken and the men put to endless toil. I had taken Seti to the final lock and sent him on his way towards the realm of Gaia. He had been sent to row the narrow-boat for a short part of the journey and had not complained at the labour that was expected of him. He was a force for good as well as receiving a measured punishment for those things that he could have done and didn’t. The Lord of Punishment had taken into account the rise in education that had taken place under his rule and the fact that measured against some of those who had gone before him, his rule was beneficent. This being so, he set him to pull the oars for a proportion of the journey until such time that the boat itself decreed that he had done enough penance.
I had enjoyed his company, when he had finally made his way towards the bow of the boat and mixed with the other ‘saved ones’ who had made their way onto the front during the course of the journey. He had been shocked to find that not one of the treasures buried with his mummified remains had been available to him after his death! It had not taken him long to adjust however to the new state of affairs. His reaction to his son’s rule encompassing the reality of slavery was disgust and scorn. The fact that it was all for nothing anyway saddened him as he realised what wonderful things could have been accomplished if the efforts of his people had been directed differently. I had reassured him that thousands of years from this moment in time, people would come from all over the world and marvel at what had been done, but nothing of the grandeur of this time would exist.  
He had entered the realm of Gaia without a backward glance and I had returned to the docks of Hell to begin another journey.
The sinners had pulled well and we made good time as we navigated the broad stretches of the Nile. I had no need to release the rats and increase their level of punishment. As we pulled into yet another set of docks the cover of the hold peeled back as the imps that covered the bottom of the boat passed their judgement on the once wicked that were shackled to the oars. They blinked in the fierce sunlight that they had not seen since they died. 
I turned to them as they sat bewildered on the benches and said, “Welcome! The boat has judged you to have expiated your sins and the freedom of the boat is yours. I must warn you that you must stay on it as to walk upon the earth of the real world would damn you to an eternity of wandering the lands of the living with little chance of reaching the realm of Gaia. I have a task to perform for the ‘Dark Lord’ himself that will take me away from this mooring. I will require that you keep it safe. None of the living will be able to see you. Many of the newly dead will be drawn to this carrier of souls. Explain as well as you can to those who are accepted at the front that we are on a journey to a better after-life. The wicked will find that they will be drawn to the hold and shackled to the oars just as you were. Wait for my return!”
Along the Nile we had passed Abu Simbel and the city of the dead called Rasmesseum and found ourselves tied up in the docks of the new city of Pi-Ramesses also known as Qantir. This had previously been a summer palace for Seti during his reign. It was a rich centre for trade and was very agriculturally productive. The waterways had an abundance of fish and this added to the wealth of this area. Many temples had been built exhorting the power and wealth of the pharaoh. They were all built by the unwilling hands of the thousands of slaves who still laboured under the pain of the lash. They were a mixed lot taken mainly from the lands of Amurru, Cannan, Libya and Nubia with many others spirited away from any populated areas that the Egyptian slaving battalions had found.
We unshipped the black woolly mammoth from the centre platform of the narrow-boat and climbed onto his massive neck and shoulders and made our way unseen to the palace. It was easy to see who were Egyptian and who were slaves. Pharaoh treated his people well and the prosperity of the land rubbed off on them. Gangs of slaves, semi-naked or dressed in a few rags and covered by the marks of the lash hauled blocks of dressed stone. These people existed on the fringe of starvation and only the power of the whip could have motivated them. I clenched my fists in anger and could understand why the Lord of Punishment had decided to end this state of affairs. 
“Arrand, this has to stop,” I grimly said to my companion. “I will not rest until I have separated these unfortunate souls from this endless servitude.”
“Most powerful Rotan, I agree with all you say, but this Pharaoh will be a hard man to turn. He comes from a long line of all-powerful men who set themselves up as a living God. He will need to be broken in such a way that he is forced into submission.”
“Then break him I will,” I answered and urged the mammoth onwards through the crowds who somehow parted at his approach.
We were approaching the main thoroughfare to the palace that Ramesses the mightiest pharaoh of them all held sway with his family. I concentrated my will and made our steed appear from thin air some way in front of the steps leading up to his throne. Pharaoh’s face registered disbelief at what he could see approaching him. For one thing, he had seen elephants, but the size of our steed, dwarfed anything he had ever seen. The black woolly mammoth stood higher than three men stood on each other’s shoulders. He was as wide as a man laid down and his trunk was thicker than a man’s body. Inside this magnificent creature was the accumulation of the souls of the damned that powered his life-force. I controlled him absolutely and when his tasks were done to my satisfaction the souls would be released and be allowed to go on their way to Gaia’s realm. 
I stopped the mammoth at the bottom of the steps and the two of us were assisted down by his trunk and deposited half up the steps. The two of us had decided to be dressed simply in togas wearing our master’s strands of hair as belts. We were barefooted and carrying a stave, each fashioned from one of the netherworld hollow reeds that grew in single trunks by the side of the waterways. They were a connection into the world of the freshly dead and could easily become a conduit between the two states of being. 
By the time that we had climbed the steps to Ramesses throne he had got himself under control and tightly gripped his golden staff of office. The rest of his people that were crowded into the throne room waited for pharaoh to act.
Ramesses stood and confronted us and said, “What are you? What do you want that you should stand before your living God and disrupt my court?”
“I am your judge, Ramesses. You have displeased a higher authority than you. He is a final judge that you will face upon your death. This slavery that you have inflicted on your neighbours has got to stop. It stops now this very day or you will suffer along with all your people a terrible curse,” I grimly stated.
“Ha! You are two and I am many! Kill them now,” Ramesses replied and gestured to his guards.
Spears flew through the air and passed harmlessly through our bodies and clattered against the ornamented wall at our backs. That caused a moment’s hesitation by Pharaoh and he gave another order.
“Burn them,” he cried and oil was spilt around out feet and set alight.
We stood motionless until the flames petered out. Around us rugs and tapestries were well alight and the guards frantically put them out. Ramesses sat down upon his gilded throne and contemplated his next step.   
“Bring me my magicians and advisers. I would know more about these ‘men’ who dare Pharaoh’s wrath. 
“I give you credence, great Pharaoh; you are a man of courage.  Like your father the great Seti who also served as a humble oarsman in the hold of my narrow-boat you will ultimately row for me after you have left this world behind you! How that will work depends upon your actions here,” I replied.
A look of fury crossed Ramesses face as the implications of what I said took hold and he turned to the magicians and advisers. 
He pointed to where we stood and shouted, “What can you do to rid me of these impertinent imposters?” 
“I will send poisonous snakes to bite and send them to their deaths,” a magician replied and cast a basket upon the floor.
The top opened and the magician directed the writhing mass of snakes in our direction. Arrand undid one of the belts that were fashioned from the Lord of Punishment’s hair and tossed it onto the marble floor. The hair began to grow and swell until it took on the resemblance of a black King Cobra; a snake eater and killer. It relentlessly struck, seized and swallowed snake after snake. When it had finished the hood sank back and the snake made its way back to Arrand, turning back once more into one of the fibres of his belt. He wrapped it around the loose garments of his toga and waited for me to open a dialogue with Ramesses.
I walked towards him and as I climbed ever closer to him I added to my size until I stood twice the height of any of his guards. I bent forward and lifted the king of Egypt by his shoulders to the level of my face. 
“You will give orders now, to set the slaves free from their labours, gather what provisions that they need and allow them to trek away from this accursed place. You will allow them to take what they need of your carts, waggons and animals to set forth and settle in another land far from here,” I ordered the Pharaoh and tossed him negligently back onto his throne.
Ramesses scrambled out of his thrones embrace and defiantly replied, “No!” as he stood staring back at my face. “I will not do as you order. If you could kill me, you would have done so. I will ignore your empty threats. My slaves will continue to build my monuments until they die. I am the living God of this land and my word is law!”
I returned to my proper size and walked down the steps to stand by my brother of the Netherworld. 
I turned and sorrowfully said to Ramesses, “It will be as you wish. Instead of you suffering, all of your people will suffer until you change your mind. I will stay here in this wealth encrusted palace while my brother Arrand sets off upstream of this place and when he is above your influence he will insert his staff into the Nile and I will allow the waters of the lands of the dead to flow through the hollow reed he carries and into your river. You will then see and experience the power of the Lord of Punishment.”
“Ha! Do as you please. I will not give up these people. They are mine to do with as I want,” Ramesses replied and stared away to his side.
I turned to Arrand and said, “Take the mammoth and the narrow boat and do my bidding. Stay there with the reed in place until I tell you to remove it. Spread the word that I have come to deliver every slave in this kingdom into freedom. Tell them to be ready and to do exactly as I say.” I then whispered into his ear, “Tell them also, to save their water and to fill every pot and pan. Keep the water concealed and tell no-one of where it is hidden. In two weeks the Nile will be undrinkable and poisoned to every living thing. Tell them to store what food they can find, for a famine will come and to go inside their homes when the river turns red.”
Arrand nodded and returned to the mammoth, climbing back onto its neck via the trunk’s help and made his way back towards the docks. He quietly applied his brother’s instructions as he went, as word of Rotan’s ultimatum spread. He then vanished from the sight of the living and returned to the narrow-boat. The Nile’s flow towards the sea did not impede the progress of the boat as the layer of liquid imp gave the waters of this mighty river no purchase on the hold. 
Two weeks went by and I had turned to stone to wait for my brother to insert his reed into the headwaters above the realm of Ramesses. All sorts of the Pharaoh’s wise men had tried to damage the statue that I had become. They chipped in vain with all manner of blades and hammers. Acid was tried to no avail. A gang of slaves looped chains around my waist and could not move me from my position. When a slave-master picked up a lash I took it from him and laid it across his back until he writhed across the floor and rolled down the steps. I returned to my place standing in front of Ramesses throne.
The thoughts of Arrand were transmitted through the belt I wore of the Lord of Punishment’s hair. 
Arrand concentrated his thoughts and told me, “I am well above the last city of the Pharaoh and the boat is anchored well and true. I am inserting the reed now, Most Powerful Rotan! Now will be the time for the next part of your curse to be shown to Ramesses.”
I rose from my position in front of the throne and once more faced Pharaoh and said, “Ramesses, the beginning of great suffering is about to come to you and your people. Remember that this was your choice. Follow me to the water’s edge of the mighty river Nile and see what you have caused to be.”
“I will not! You can walk to the river if you want. I shall not accompany you,” Ramesses defiantly shouted at me. “I am the embodiment of the living God and the Nile rises and falls at my command!”
“Your stubbornness has gone too far. You will come with me,” and with that I went swiftly to his side and curled one of the hairs of my belt around his wrist like a flat leather strap. At the touch of my master’s hair upon his wrist Pharaoh wet himself in fear and I dragged him down his ornamented steps towards the coolness of the river frontage. Many miles above this anchorage point Arrand had placed the reed into the river’s cold embrace and at that time I had also opened the link to the waters of the dead. Through the reed a red tide was sweeping down the river faster than the river could flow, spurting out under immense pressure from the Netherworld. 
In front of the Pharaoh’s eyes the river became the colour of blood as it passed the palace frontage. Dead fish rose to the surface and an army of frogs left the edges of the river and migrated onto the lands. A buzzing and a whirring of hundreds of thousands of biting insects fled the poisoned waters, settling upon the naked flesh of all who were outside.
I released Ramesses from his bondage and turned to point at the clouds of stinging insects and the dying frogs that were swelling up and bursting.
“This is of your doing, great Pharaoh,” I said and added, “Soon all of your animals will die as the water runs out and your grain-stocks will be useless without water. A time of famine will occur and your people will die. Let them go, Ramesses or your people will suffer even more as time goes by. I will wait a few days for the impact to take hold and we will speak again.”
Once more I turned to stone and left the Pharaoh to stare at the bloody river in sheer disbelief.
By the time a week had gone by those who had been outside when the river turned red were infested with boils. I returned from my stony state to walk the streets of the city calling on the people that were enslaved and giving them further instructions and telling them to be ready. All work on Ramesses monuments had stopped and the entire workforce were inside. Water had been secreted away and food had been rationed amongst the many different nationalities. It was time to rack up the suffering of Pharaoh’s subjects.
I made my way back to the palace and called towards the throne, “Ramesses have you had enough of this stupidity? Will you now let the people go?”
“You can rot in the underworld for all I care, Most Powerful Rotan. This will pass and all will be as it was before!”
“Very well, Ramesses you leave me no choice,” I replied and struck the end of the hollow reed onto the ground before him.
I opened a rift into the colder regions of the lands of the dead and caused the storms of the mountains to funnel through my staff. A howling wind full of hail and snow swept up into the skies above us turning day into darkest night. The temperature dropped swiftly and the snow began to settle. I opened another hole into hell and spread locusts from that land of the dead over the entire lands of the Egyptians where they ate every living green plant that they could find. I turned to stone for a couple of days and then closed the rifts into hell and let things settle.
I signalled Arrand to remove the reed from the waters of the Nile so that the waters would run pure again. Once more I approached Ramesses.
“I have returned the Nile to its normal state. The snow and hail will melt and water the land. The pests will return to the waters of the mighty river and the frogs will also return. Eventually your people will recover from the bites and stings that followed the poisoning of the river. May I now release the slaves that your armies have collected? I await your decision,” I declared and stood waiting, sure that now the mighty Pharaoh would see sense. 
“Most powerful Rotan, you have done your worst and we have prevailed. Take your magic tricks and return to the underworld that you say you come from and leave me alone,” he stated defiantly.
“Oh Pharaoh, you have no idea of what I am capable of. Be prepared for I will come again in the morning and you will give me what I have asked of you,” I replied.
Ramesses’ response was to hurl a spear through my incorporate form.
I sighed and made my way to the slaves’ quarters and called the elders together.
“Tomorrow be prepared to leave this place, but tonight you must do exactly as I say. Take a small pot of your own blood and make a mark upon your door so that the fiend that I will send to Pharaoh’s lands will not stop at your homes and pass over it. do not ask what is to happen, but know that this night will live in the memory of Ramesses until he dies and once more stands before me,” I said sorrowfully. “Many innocent children will die this night so that you may take up your own lives and destinies. I ask that you remember this night and keep it in memory for I must do a terrible thing to wrest your freedom from the despot.”
They did not fully understand the meaning of my warning, but had seen enough of my power to do what I had asked of them. This terrible thing would happen just before the sun returned in the sky and an awful dawn would break. The power that the Lord of Punishment had bestowed on me lay heavy upon me as I re-entered the lands of the dead. The beings that I sought were fearsome even to me, but I knew that they were the only ones to be able to do this. The Lord of Punishment sent them to me to do my bidding and I still trembled at their presence. The great wings were held open, ready to catch the winds that were at their command. Their eyes burnt with an eldritch fire and their bodies were coloured grey. They were the angels of death, but this time they would be seen on Earth as they did my bidding as they plunged their talons deep into each child’s chest to take the life-force of their heart.
We returned to the city of Ramesses and the angels did their work. Each dwelling that did not have a smear of human blood upon its doorway was visited. I could hear the terrified screams from within as the fiends from hell took the life of every firstborn below the age of sixteen. It was the longest night that I have ever experienced and the most terrible thing that I had ever done for the Dark Lord.
As the sun came up I approached the palace and heard the screams of anguish and fear as one of the creatures of the night took Pharaoh’s son. I climbed the steps to his throne room with a heavy heart and met Ramesses as he carried his dead son towards me.
“Go! Damn you, go and take those people far away from me. GO, leave me to grieve for my son,” Ramesses cried out and fell into a squat holding his dead son close to his chest. The sounds of wailing and misery echoed through the stone buildings.
I turned away from the desolate king and made my way towards the slaves’ quarters and met a mighty column snaking out of the city. They had heard the screams and had heard the stories from Egyptian lips and knew that whatever horror had visited Pharaoh’s people in the night it was the means for their escape. To my surprise they had managed to ‘acquire’ a good number of animals that they had rationed the water amongst. Waggons were hauled by strong men and some oxen were put to use. All manner of livestock had been spirited away from their masters and kept safe. It was scarcely passed dawn and already many of these people were making their way out of the city boundaries and towards open country to the East. My brother Arrand was busy ferrying them across the Nile in the narrow boat. Inside the bow there were berths for hundreds of people if necessary. The people did not question why the boat was larger on the inside than what their senses told them. They merely continued to climb aboard, carrying their belongings and driving their animals before them. Even so it took several trips to ferry all of the slaves on Pharaoh’s side of the Nile to the other side. Never the less, by sunset the head of the column was many miles from Ramesses and his forces. My trusty boat continued to plough through the sands as the bottom of the boat stayed inside the Netherworld while the top stayed in the lands of the living. My redeemed sinners continued to strain at the oars and were joined by many of the freed slaves. I alternated those that were tired from the long trek with those who had rested on board the boat. During the night I conjured a pillar of flames that whirled and danced in front of us. When the dawn broke I turned it into a whirlwind of sand. We were heading due East and would soon make the coast of the Red sea. This would be where I would need to call on the powers of my Dark Lord and sustain equilibrium between the two worlds. It would do great harm to these people if they walked through the lands of the dead and actually touched the Netherworld. It was not yet their time and if any made contact with this other reality, they would stay and be lost souls. 
As we at last reached the shores of the sea I summoned the leaders of the freed slaves before me and explained as best I could without telling them the awful truth of what they were about to do.
“Listen to me,” I demanded of them, “and listen carefully. You are to be blindfolded, for I am to lead you through a realm that you must never see. Your feet will be coated in something that will keep you safe and you will wade through water that is not water as you know it. I will call it the valley of death. Not all of you can fit inside the boat and that is where your animals will stay. Only man can understand that sometimes the unthinkable must be endured. You have reason and you have trust in me. So what I ask of you, you must not question. Ramesses will go from grief to anger and when he does he will renege on any promise that he made to me. We have no time to rest and must now be on our way. Prepare yourselves and make sure that your blind-folds are secure. Tie ropes to the back of the boat and wind a loop around your wrist so that all of you who are about to walk behind will not stray. Once you are blindfolded you will feel that a covering will spread over your feet. Do not move when that happens and when the rope begins to pull, walk steadily behind the boat. I will be with you. Your freedom is over the other side of that stretch of ocean. Keep that in mind as you walk.”
I stood and saw only obedience on the faces of these worn out people and was satisfied that my instructions would be carried out. 
“Arrand, pass me your staff and pilot the boat through the channel that I will produce,” I said and took it from him.
I made my way to the edge of the sea and thrust one staff deep into the shingle walking a good distance before I plunged the other just as deep. Already the strongest of the freed slaves had filed behind the boat and were all tethered by the ropes that fanned out. Everyone was blind-folded securely, some hooded for extra security. A band of imps had oozed from the bottom of the boat and wrapped themselves around the feet and legs of the slaves. 
I wound a strand of my Dark Lord’s hair around the staff, just as I had done to the other. The hairs bit into the iron-hard, hollow reeds and sunk themselves into the shingle. An eldritch light began to seep from the ground and reality began to shift as the Netherworld and the lands of the living began to merge. A corridor began to form across the sea as the waterways of my adopted world began to push back the waves of the salty sea. The boat began to move forwards as the oarsmen pulled back against the resistance of both worlds. Suddenly the hull found the familiar sensation of the warm waters and began to surge ahead. The long strings of people started to walk into the embrace of my world. The fears of what they were doing, made some of them cry out, but were quickly told to be strong. 
“Most Powerful has not deserted us,” a shepherd called out, “Walk and keep your eyes closed. He has not failed you and he has brought us from slavery.”
Other voices called out words of encouragement, agreeing with him. The waters of the Netherworld are denser than the waters of the real world and to these living people; it must have been like walking through treacle. There were things that burrowed into the silt and wriggled out from underfoot. There was the occasional scream of terror when this happened, but no-one cast off their blindfold. All kept their hands clasped firmly onto the ropes. Steadily the boat made progress towards the other side and soon the other shore could be seen by my crew of redeemed sinners. They pulled steadily at the oars even though their backs ached and their muscles cried for rest. I could see far behind me Ramesses had indeed gone from grief to anger and was fast approaching the beach on chariots. He must have scoured the kingdom to find horses that had not died of the poisoned waters. There were at least fifty chariots and many men on foot following behind. I left the boat and the people to Arrand while I used my Lord’s powers to take me back to where I had planted the staves.
I stood between them and waited for Ramesses.
He was in the lead and bearing down on me. I could see that his face was contorted with rage as he ploughed right through me. 
“Ramesses,” I said, “I am already dead. I died many thousands of years ago and have served a higher power than you could only dream about. Stop this now or you will join me in the lands of the dead for quicker than you realise.”
Ramesses alighted from his chariot and advanced towards me swinging his sword. I let him cut and thrust until he dropped exhausted to the shingle of the beach. 
“You killed my son! There must be some punishment for that,” he cried.
“You worked to death, thousands of people in servitude to your vanity. I knew your father and his father before him. I have seen you come and go. Far from your palace, amongst the ruins of a former city long abandoned, there stands all that remains of a statue. There are just the feet protruding from the sands and underneath is written, I am Ozymandias, King of Kings, look upon my works you mighty and despair. I was there when that statue was erected, Ramesses. He worked for me on a very long journey, pulling at the oars until he was redeemed.”
“My works will endure for ever, you fiend from the underworld,” Ramesses replied. I will be remembered.”
Ramesses you will be remembered, but not for what you have built, although yes it will endure for many thousands of years. No, little man, you will be remembered for what has happened in the last few weeks and what will happen now. Your slaves have reached the other side and are beyond your reach. It will take you a lifetime to restore to Egypt what you allowed to be destroyed. Just to make sure that you have really learned your lesson I shall take you for a visit to the lands of the dead and show you the futility of what you plan for your afterlife.”
With that I took him by the hand and walked him into the Netherworld and showed him what awaited him before leaving him sobbing on the beach. I then closed the door that I had engineered and made my way back to where Arrand had tied up the boat.
An old man stood before me and said, “Great Most, what would you have us do now? I am Abram leader of many of these people. Will you lead us through this wilderness to a place of safety? Tell us what we must do and where will we find water to drink and give to our animals? We are landless and alone.”
I sensed water not too far away and used my power to bring it to the surface by tapping a blocking stone out of place. Soon a small pool settled onto the rocky basin and all could drink to their content.
I stared wearily at this man and said, “Abram all I can say is that my time with you is over. I have many other duties to attend to that require my presence elsewhere, so I will say this to you, go east as far as you can, away from Pharaoh and his armies. You will eventually find lands that you will need to fill. 
Try not to steal them from those who already live there. Learn to live in harmony with other people. Kill only if you have to, for I will be waiting for those who transgress that basic law. Do not covet what others possess for that leads only to jealousy and dispute. Be fair in your dealings with each other and do not follow false gods. Listen to your women-folk for they are wise in matters that man does not understand. Share what you have with one another and do not let the stranger go hungry when you meet him and you will prosper. Seek to do good rather than what you know in your heart to be evil. Love your children so that they in turn will love you and listen to each other. 
That is all that I can tell you. If you keep these laws then you will prosper and be successful. If not then I urge you to always remember the terrible night that the angels of death passed over your homes and let you be! There is a higher authority that will judge you after you pass from this world.”
I turned away and climbed aboard my craft loosening its grip upon the world of the living and passed from living sight. We continued our journey to the last lock and let our cargo of redeemed sinners enter the realm of Gaia.
Sometime later I found myself once again in the presence of the Lord of Punishment. He raised me up and set me upon his desk and stared not unkindly at me.
“Rotan you never cease to amaze me! Your handling of that problem was exemplarily. Not only did you irrevocably alter Pharaoh’s mind, you laid down a set of laws that may even change the way that so many of my subject think,” the Dark Lord said.
I laughed and replied, “Great One you have more faith in human nature than I. Laws are meant to be broken and broken they will be. I will admit that if the multitudes do follow the practises that I set down, then perhaps a better world will occur! I have a strong feeling that Ramesses will be rowing for me in the future and I may have started off a religion in that area. It should do no harm if they keep to my strictures.
How wrong I was proved to be! 
Barry E Woodham.


Tales of the Ferryman. – 13.
Soul Promise.

I felt the summons deep within my mind, “Rotan I need you. Whatever you are doing delegate it to someone else. Come to me at my offices as soon as you can.”
I was deep within the water-world collecting souls when I heard my master’s call. I sent out a call for assistance and soon saw one of the Lord of Punishment’s flying servants carrying a fresh Ferryman in its claws. I recognised Baal himself as he hovered over the boat.
The new boat-master grasped my hand as he was released from Baal’s grasp and said, “Rotan you had best hurry. There’s something amiss in this reality and our master needs someone of your talents to put it to rights.”
I held my arms out from my side and Baal swooped down and fixed me within his grasp. The mighty wings expanded, caught the wind and we soared into the clouds. From up here the Netherworld extended in every direction until it disappeared into the mist. I had been collecting souls and taking them to the final lock and the entrance into Gaia’s realm. This was the lands of the dead and time did not pass here as it did in the realm of life. I have no real idea just how many years had passed since my death. I was born during the end of the WĂĽrm glaciation period as a hunter gatherer. I killed a false Shaman who had sent us on a fools errand hunting animals that were somewhere else, once too many. Upon my death I found myself in front of the Lord of Punishment who had made me the first Ferryman, collecting the souls of the dead. After some time I decided to stay and serve Him rather than travel on to Gaia’s realm for the redeemed. I was his first Ferryman and had served Him in many different situations.
I had caused two cities to drown because of the wickedness practised there and abolished slavery in Egypt during the reign of Ramesses the second, leading the ex-slaves through the Red Sea to other lands. In the end the Lord of Punishment gave up on man’s cruelty and ceased to interfere in human affairs unless unbearably provoked.
Baal continued his flight back to the great citadel of Hell and I soon was able to see the towers jutting out of the wetlands below. The Arch-prince dropped into the main courtyard and gently deposited my ethereal form onto the polished flagstones.
He bent forwards and spoke directly into my ear and whispered, “All I can tell you, is that our Master is very concerned about something that the humans have achieved with their scientific discoveries that may concern us all, even in this reality!”
With that veiled threat ringing in my ears, I quickly found my way into his presence. My Master was sitting at his desk in a vast swivel chair crafted by demons out of iron-wood grown locally to his residence. A flight of stairs led from the smooth, mosaic-patterned floor right up to the level of his desk. I hurried up those stairs as fast as I could and made my appearance from behind one of his inkwells.
The great horned head swivelled round at my approach and he said, “It is good to see you again Rotan, after so many years. Once again I have a task for your unique abilities. Sit and listen while I tell you about the latest of man’s follies! This time I have to intervene or there will be no more souls in the future for us to judge and send upon their ways.”
I sat and listened as the Lord of Punishment told me about the progress that mankind had achieved in the last hundred years. It had been some while since I had been involved in the lands of the living and much had happened since World-War two and the dropping of the atomic bombs upon the cities of the Japanese. There had been a great sorting out of souls on both sides after the mega-death of destruction had taken place. Since then I had been wandering the remote corners of the Netherworld collecting the lost souls that had fallen far from the centre of residence. For my master to call upon my ‘talents’ at such a time, put me once again at the pivot point of history. 
“Rotan, my children have accomplished a great achievement that will certainly wipe out all life upon this world if they succeed in returning to their home-world with what they have discovered. A year and a half ago an international expedition to the planet Mars was launched. It was and is an incredible feat of which I am very proud. Based on the favourable results that the Mars Rover discovered, the team have been sent there to verify that life exists underneath the permafrost layer. It does and it will soon occupy the warm wet conditions of the dome that they live inside. Not only that, the varied micro-organisms will find an enriched environment inside the humans that are at this moment getting ready to return. Rotan, they cannot return to this world, for if they do, what once evolved on Mars will make this their new home. These microbes have stayed alive and mutated to stay that way over billions of years and will find life on this planet very easy. If they get here, then I have seen a possible future, of a world that will be home to microbial life only. Mankind will cease to be and our reason for being here will end. They must be stopped! That is your task, Rotan. Do whatever is necessary my loyal servant, but stop them!”
I stared up at my master and asked, “How will I get there? Surely another world is beyond the reaches of the Netherworld?” 
The Dark Lord shook his head and replied, “In our dimension my realm is infinite. All I have to do is to set you upon the correct canal with a fast boat and the currant will do the rest. I will set a menu of directions into the fabric of the boat and it will know the way. Once again he plucked a number of hairs from his head and gave them to me to wrap around my waist. These hairs will connect you with ‘Me’ and will act as a conduit of power for whatever you need. Now make your way to the docks and you will find that a boat will be waiting. You will also find Baal waiting for you in case you need assistance. He will assume your form until such time that he may need to become the elemental creature that he is. I will leave you to carry out this task. Do not hesitate to call on me if you have to. Now go! There is a great deal of things that I must attend to. Not too long ago a human opened a hole into the depths of Hell with the Large Hadron Collider that they have built. There are still imps and devils abroad in the world of the living that need to be collected and replaced into their proper place. 
He picked me up between his thumb and forefinger and set me on the mosaic floor to do his bidding while he began the first of many tasks that needed his attention.
I found that I was travelling at an unnatural speed towards the docks and my reunion with Baal. I barely touched the floor as I sped along down to where the narrow boats were berthed. Waiting for me was a tall blond haired man who was busily untying a different type of boat than I was used to. The bow was pointed and slightly raised out of the water, followed by a streamlined hull. At the back was an open roof that was raised on four poles with a bench seat at the stern. Here there was a conventional tiller and a simple lever with plus and minus printed on two panels. Under the hold there came a flavour of wickedness that told of deep sin and torment. Inside that living hell, were the worst sinners that could be pressed into service. They remained trapped inside the Ferris wheel that drove the boat’s propellers. Inside that hold the dimensions were far greater than the space that the mechanism sat in. The boat sat easily twelve people, but the hold held a thousand sinners. It was built for speed and was totally coated with liquid imp! The blackness of the boat made it seem as though you could sink into it. A sinner would of course and find themselves inside the hold! The boat was alive with power and the presence of the Dark Lord permeated every molecule and bound it into service. 
I jumped aboard and coiled the rope around a stanchion letting the boat clear the docking edge before I engaged the ‘engine,’ steering us into a middle position. We began to travel along the slipway until we exited the docking area. Above us was an arch that I had never seen before and the current carried us underneath. A door came down behind us and the current picked up.
Baal laughed and said, “Well wherever we are going it will be somewhere new and after all this time that I have spent in the Netherworld I am happy to be able to do something different!”
I turned and appraised the human shaped creature by my side and asked, “Have you been told about our mission?”
“No! All I was told was that you were in charge and I was to do anything that you asked of me no matter what I thought. The Dark Lord trusts you Rotan and that is good enough for me,” the Arch-prince replied.
“Very well, Baal, I will tell you what it is and where we are going to travel to undertake this mission. What I have to tell you will stop your laughter in your throat for what we do will affect the future, not only of humankind, but also our kind as well.” 
I told him everything that our master had impressed upon me and what we had to do.
Baal ran his fingers through his long blond hair and said, “Well Rotan it seems that we will be going into unknown territory. None of our species have ever needed to travel this far outside the Netherworld tied to Earth. I would not miss this chance to go where we are needed. My respect for you increases each time I am associated with you! Do you have a plan of action?”
“No! Apart from getting there as fast as I can, I can think of nothing else. Once we are there, then will be the time to weigh up the situation and act. In the meantime I think that it is time to put some sinners to the test. We need more speed than this current to be able to navigate,” and with that I pushed the lever halfway towards the plus sign.
We both felt the cries of anguish from below the hold, but paid the sound little interest. As we accelerated downstream the boat seemed to be hurtling down a tunnel. The sides of the waterway began to get hazy and we could see stars surrounding us with the familiar sight of the moon receding far behind us. I reached out with the power invested in me and slowed time to a crawl for us and ruthlessly slammed the propulsion lever hard against the plus. This time we could both hear the screams of the damned as the Ferris wheel picked up speed and the automatic gearbox locked onto top speed. Now the bow lifted out of the water and the boat hydroplaned until only the stern and propeller were immersed in the water. Once that had been achieved I could lessen the exertion on those poor unfortunates that were incarcerated in the hold.
Far ahead at the end of the water channel I could see a pinpoint of dull red that soon began to dominate the forward view. This was the planet Mars that mankind had finally reached. I felt a tingle of pride in my race’s achievement, but also regret that I would have to ensure that it ended in failure. The water channel twisted and turned until it dived towards the planet’s surface carrying us with it. I hauled back the lever into the minus position and slowed the boat, once more ignoring the cries of physical exertion that floated up from the hold. The Netherworld did not totally encompass this dry and empty place. To my dismay the channel came to a stop by petering out and draining into the sands.  We were a very long way from where the mixed crew had established base camp. There was no way that I could sail the boat across this arid desert. A red wasteland stretched as far as I could see, full of mountains and red stony deserts. It had every appearance of a dead world. The sky was empty of clouds and I could see the stars shining down in the thin atmosphere. It was a good thing that I did not need to breathe. 
I would need to invoke my Dark Lord’s power and change things. I wrapped the lengths of His hair around my wrist over the tiller and over the wrists of Baal.
“What are you going to do now, Rotan? It has got to be something very unnatural,” the Arch-prince remarked. “Be very careful about what it is that you intend and whether you can control it!”
“Several billions of years ago this small world had water in abundance. Where the Mars Rover examined the shale, was once the bottom of a sea. We are going back to that time so that we can travel to the expedition’s base camp. We had dropped in the north and most of that part of the planet had been under water at the time that we arrived. We plunged out of the regions of the Netherworld onto the crest of a mighty wave. There was enough of a tenuous link between our dimension and this one to ensure that we did not go to the bottom. The Mars Rover had landed just south of the equator on the edge of the northern sea. The Gale crater had been deemed to have been wet, by its close proximity to that sea and it had in fact filled with water and become a large lake with a mountain jutting out of the middle of the impact crater. It was in this shallow lake that microbial life had flourished under the mutational rays of the early sun. The various kinds of microbes had become survivors of the constant war for existence. Wind driven surges provided waves that broke into the crater replenishing the microbial life there with fresh challenges. 
Isolated from the rest of the sea for long periods they had begun to spread into the edges of that ancient mass of water to try and colonise the empty lands. As the sea dried up however, the life that had evolved there mostly perished as air and water disappeared by evaporation and tiny gravity of this world was unable to hang onto what there was. In the crater the penetration of the microbes into the mud and deeper into the wet ground happened before the surface froze as the planet got colder. A thick layer of permafrost sealed them in and a billion years later they were still waging microbial war against each other. 
The expedition had been ecstatic when they had drilled down through that icy layer to discover exotic life-forms swarming in the wetness still sealed in after all that time. They had taken them inside the domed habitat to study. This was why my master had sent me to this forsaken place. He had glimpsed an alternative future where the crew had come back from Mars and it was more than bleak. 
The wind began to pick up as we sailed. We crested waves of a hundred feet or more that were being driven by those winds and the lesser gravity. Sometimes we bounced upwards and the wave retreated beneath us, only for us to be caught by the crest of the next wave before we fell. The two of us strapped ourselves firmly to the poles that supported the roof using our master’s thick strands of hair. Beneath the hold the unfortunate souls of the wicked continued to obey the instructions that I gave via the motion lever. No matter how the boat was tossed from wave crest to deep trough, they continued to climb the great Ferris wheel that drove the propeller. I continued to press on towards the south and the three mile high mountain that sat in the centre of Gale Crater. It had been named Aeolis Mons that meant Mount Sharp and time had scoured its flanks until it did indeed begin to look like a giant blade thrusting into the skies. At the time that we were making our way across that ancient land the planet was relatively new and the mountain was still quite broad as well as being high.
It gave me a strange feeling to realise that my home planet was still a seething mass of volcanoes erupting into foul and filthy seas. It would be maybe a billion years before the first stirring of life began to turn those oceans to fresh salty water and fill the air with oxygen. Here on Mars life had got started, although it was doomed to never rise beyond the microbial stage and become simple multi-celled organisms. The constant radiation from the sun caused the pace of evolution to surge as there was little to stop the hard particle emissions from constantly bombarding the life under the water. We could feel this alien life it as we dipped and plunged through the waves. There was an overwhelming feeling of malevolence that seemed to seep into our minds. This was a soup of life-forms that would look upon my kind of life as something to enjoy and dominate. It was mindless, yet full of purpose. That purpose was survival of the fittest and at their level of development our kind of life would fall way back on that scale. We now fully understood why our master had sent us on this mission.
Baal called out, “I can see the mountain. It’s fast coming over the horizon. We should soon be there.”
The curvature of this planet was steeper than ours and distances could be deceptive so I pulled the lever into reverse and slowed us down. As we neared land the winds began to slow down a little and the waves got less intense as we breasted shallower ground. I could see a break in the crater’s wall and headed for that, propelled by a surge of water that sent the narrow-boat hurtling through the gap and into a calmer lake. The entire crater was awash and flooded to a depth of no more than ten feet or more. I dropped anchor and let the boat swing round to follow the flow. I reset the lever to neutral and gave the souls below a welcome rest. They had given their very best and had shortened their time at the Ferris wheel by some considerable time. Now it was time to leave this early time of ‘wet Mars’ and return to the present. Once again we wound the thick strands of hair around our wrists and over the tiller of the boat. I reached out to a time when my master existed and called upon His power. Baal also gave me his strength to send my mind forwards billions of years to the present time until I felt the Lord of Punishment’s mind inside mine.
“Rotan! Do whatever you have to. The expedition is making ready to return. They must be stopped and stopped soon,” the Dark Lord commanded.
The waters dropped away and the boat sat on the stony ground just in front of the air-filled dome in sight of their only window. The return shuttle was the other side of my vessel and had been primed for flight. Four of the inhabitants of the dome exited the airlock and were making their way towards their return voyage pulling a cart loaded with specimens. They stopped short, staring at the boat and us. They stopped pulling the cart and made their way towards us. I could not see their faces inside the reflective glass of their helmets, but I could guess what they looked like. 
“Disable the shuttle by causing the ground to give way underneath one of the legs, Baal and I will make sure that they all go back inside the dome. Show your real self to them and that should do the trick.” 
The four astronauts stopped short as Baal expanded to his normal size and unfurled his wings and towered over them. In the low gravity he bounded over to the shuttle and began to excavate the ground around one of the feet using his telekinetic abilities and shovel shaped hands. With him were thousands of imps that had shed the sides of the boat and were all busily digging underneath the landing legs. It was as if the base of the shuttle was covered in a black soup that was full of small digging hands. Now and then the imps would amalgamate together and become a larger being working tirelessly with Baal to topple the transport home onto the red sands of Mars.  
The four stood stock still and then one fell to the ground and began to beat it with a fist. I motioned to them to return to the dome and also changed shape to the demon that only the sinners usually see. That did the trick and they hurriedly returned to the dome. Once they were safely inside and unsuited, I followed them and warped reality to walk through the walls. Meanwhile Baal successfully managed to undermine the landing leg and the shuttle began to topple over helped by him and the imps of Hell lifting one of the other legs.
The twelve of them were staring through the window at the damage being done to their only way home. The women were crying and so were some of the men as Baal continued to wreck the shuttle. I monitored the health of my unfortunate captives and detected a slight fever in three of them. They believed that they had incubated a cold.
I coughed to get their attention and they turned away from the window to stare at me with disbelieving eyes.
The person that I surmised was their leader asked, “What are you? Are you an alien life-form? Why have you done this?” 
“I was once a man just like you. I serve a being that only acts in times of great gravity. I am a Ferryman and collect souls and transport them for a higher purpose. I do not expect you to believe me at first, as few can accept the reality that exists,” I replied. 
One of the men grabbed a box of specimens and threw it at me and of course it passed right through my chest. The others stopped looking for weapons after seeing what had just happened.
“I’ll ask again! Why have you done this? Why now, after all that we have achieved? We have been here for six months exploring the amazing finds that lie under the permafrost. We have found alien life that is astounding and may be the key to all sorts of new discoveries,” their leader said.
“That is the problem my unfortunate people. Three of you think that you have developed colds. Not so! You are swarming with alien microbes that will soon dominate your bodies. All of you will die here on this world and none must ever come here again. You will radio Earth and tell them of your decision to stay here, because of the living death that exists under the permafrost. Also to make sure that no-one ever comes here you will film and transmit the stages that you go through. The being that I serve has seen an alternative future of a microbial Earth where nothing remains of any Earthly life-forms. Everything will have been transmuted into a microbial soup. You will be the saviours of your world not just your species. There is no other way! If you will do this I promise that I will take you back to your home. You must trust me to look after all of you after you have died. In that state I will take you back.”
I stayed with them a month before they all died and one by one they succumbed to the different microbes as one or the other got the upper hand. Some of the effects were so terrible that filming the last stages became too difficult for the survivors. No-one on Earth ever got an inkling of my presence inside the base. The narrow boat did not exist in this reality so was never seen by the anguished people of Earth. The destruction of the shuttle was put down to a desperate and valiant action by the crew to make sure that none could escape. I buried the bodies outside the dome in shallow graves where the radiation of the sun and near vacuum would destroy the Martian life that thrived inside their bodies.
The last living person was a woman called Ayesha and she shut off the radio and television link just before she died cradled in my arms. To the end they still protested that they had isolated all of the specimens that they had collected from beneath the Martian permafrost and could not understand how some got through. Some did get through. They had managed to live billions of years surviving off each other in the most hostile conditions. Working their way through rubber-type seals must have been quite easy.
Once the last of them were safely contained in the ground Baal and I sailed the narrow-boat back through time and eventually back to the Netherworld’s embrace. I had promised to bring them back and I had done so. 
The Lord of Punishment did a unique thing and met all of the astronauts before he personally took them to the last lock and the entrance to Gaia’s realm. As for me, well there were still souls to collect and a boat to judge them. I felt that a few hundred years of solitude would suit me well.  

Barry E Woodham.  

Tales of the Ferryman. – 13.
Soul Promise.

I felt the summons deep within my mind, “Rotan I need you. Whatever you are doing delegate it to someone else. Come to me at my offices as soon as you can.”
I was deep within the water-world collecting souls when I heard my master’s call. I sent out a call for assistance and soon saw one of the Lord of Punishment’s flying servants carrying a fresh Ferryman in its claws. I recognised Baal himself as he hovered over the boat.
The new boat-master grasped my hand as he was released from Baal’s grasp and said, “Rotan you had best hurry. There’s something amiss in this reality and our master needs someone of your talents to put it to rights.”
I held my arms out from my side and Baal swooped down and fixed me within his grasp. The mighty wings expanded, caught the wind and we soared into the clouds. From up here the Netherworld extended in every direction until it disappeared into the mist. I had been collecting souls and taking them to the final lock and the entrance into Gaia’s realm. This was the lands of the dead and time did not pass here as it did in the realm of life. I have no real idea just how many years had passed since my death. I was born during the end of the WĂĽrm glaciation period as a hunter gatherer. I killed a false Shaman who had sent us on a fools errand hunting animals that were somewhere else, once too many. Upon my death I found myself in front of the Lord of Punishment who had made me the first Ferryman, collecting the souls of the dead. After some time I decided to stay and serve Him rather than travel on to Gaia’s realm for the redeemed. I was his first Ferryman and had served Him in many different situations.
I had caused two cities to drown because of the wickedness practised there and abolished slavery in Egypt during the reign of Ramesses the second, leading the ex-slaves through the Red Sea to other lands. In the end the Lord of Punishment gave up on man’s cruelty and ceased to interfere in human affairs unless unbearably provoked.
Baal continued his flight back to the great citadel of Hell and I soon was able to see the towers jutting out of the wetlands below. The Arch-prince dropped into the main courtyard and gently deposited my ethereal form onto the polished flagstones.
He bent forwards and spoke directly into my ear and whispered, “All I can tell you, is that our Master is very concerned about something that the humans have achieved with their scientific discoveries that may concern us all, even in this reality!”
With that veiled threat ringing in my ears, I quickly found my way into his presence. My Master was sitting at his desk in a vast swivel chair crafted by demons out of iron-wood grown locally to his residence. A flight of stairs led from the smooth, mosaic-patterned floor right up to the level of his desk. I hurried up those stairs as fast as I could and made my appearance from behind one of his inkwells.
The great horned head swivelled round at my approach and he said, “It is good to see you again Rotan, after so many years. Once again I have a task for your unique abilities. Sit and listen while I tell you about the latest of man’s follies! This time I have to intervene or there will be no more souls in the future for us to judge and send upon their ways.”
I sat and listened as the Lord of Punishment told me about the progress that mankind had achieved in the last hundred years. It had been some while since I had been involved in the lands of the living and much had happened since World-War two and the dropping of the atomic bombs upon the cities of the Japanese. There had been a great sorting out of souls on both sides after the mega-death of destruction had taken place. Since then I had been wandering the remote corners of the Netherworld collecting the lost souls that had fallen far from the centre of residence. For my master to call upon my ‘talents’ at such a time, put me once again at the pivot point of history. 
“Rotan, my children have accomplished a great achievement that will certainly wipe out all life upon this world if they succeed in returning to their home-world with what they have discovered. A year and a half ago an international expedition to the planet Mars was launched. It was and is an incredible feat of which I am very proud. Based on the favourable results that the Mars Rover discovered, the team have been sent there to verify that life exists underneath the permafrost layer. It does and it will soon occupy the warm wet conditions of the dome that they live inside. Not only that, the varied micro-organisms will find an enriched environment inside the humans that are at this moment getting ready to return. Rotan, they cannot return to this world, for if they do, what once evolved on Mars will make this their new home. These microbes have stayed alive and mutated to stay that way over billions of years and will find life on this planet very easy. If they get here, then I have seen a possible future, of a world that will be home to microbial life only. Mankind will cease to be and our reason for being here will end. They must be stopped! That is your task, Rotan. Do whatever is necessary my loyal servant, but stop them!”
I stared up at my master and asked, “How will I get there? Surely another world is beyond the reaches of the Netherworld?” 
The Dark Lord shook his head and replied, “In our dimension my realm is infinite. All I have to do is to set you upon the correct canal with a fast boat and the currant will do the rest. I will set a menu of directions into the fabric of the boat and it will know the way. Once again he plucked a number of hairs from his head and gave them to me to wrap around my waist. These hairs will connect you with ‘Me’ and will act as a conduit of power for whatever you need. Now make your way to the docks and you will find that a boat will be waiting. You will also find Baal waiting for you in case you need assistance. He will assume your form until such time that he may need to become the elemental creature that he is. I will leave you to carry out this task. Do not hesitate to call on me if you have to. Now go! There is a great deal of things that I must attend to. Not too long ago a human opened a hole into the depths of Hell with the Large Hadron Collider that they have built. There are still imps and devils abroad in the world of the living that need to be collected and replaced into their proper place. 
He picked me up between his thumb and forefinger and set me on the mosaic floor to do his bidding while he began the first of many tasks that needed his attention.
I found that I was travelling at an unnatural speed towards the docks and my reunion with Baal. I barely touched the floor as I sped along down to where the narrow boats were berthed. Waiting for me was a tall blond haired man who was busily untying a different type of boat than I was used to. The bow was pointed and slightly raised out of the water, followed by a streamlined hull. At the back was an open roof that was raised on four poles with a bench seat at the stern. Here there was a conventional tiller and a simple lever with plus and minus printed on two panels. Under the hold there came a flavour of wickedness that told of deep sin and torment. Inside that living hell, were the worst sinners that could be pressed into service. They remained trapped inside the Ferris wheel that drove the boat’s propellers. Inside that hold the dimensions were far greater than the space that the mechanism sat in. The boat sat easily twelve people, but the hold held a thousand sinners. It was built for speed and was totally coated with liquid imp! The blackness of the boat made it seem as though you could sink into it. A sinner would of course and find themselves inside the hold! The boat was alive with power and the presence of the Dark Lord permeated every molecule and bound it into service. 
I jumped aboard and coiled the rope around a stanchion letting the boat clear the docking edge before I engaged the ‘engine,’ steering us into a middle position. We began to travel along the slipway until we exited the docking area. Above us was an arch that I had never seen before and the current carried us underneath. A door came down behind us and the current picked up.
Baal laughed and said, “Well wherever we are going it will be somewhere new and after all this time that I have spent in the Netherworld I am happy to be able to do something different!”
I turned and appraised the human shaped creature by my side and asked, “Have you been told about our mission?”
“No! All I was told was that you were in charge and I was to do anything that you asked of me no matter what I thought. The Dark Lord trusts you Rotan and that is good enough for me,” the Arch-prince replied.
“Very well, Baal, I will tell you what it is and where we are going to travel to undertake this mission. What I have to tell you will stop your laughter in your throat for what we do will affect the future, not only of humankind, but also our kind as well.” 
I told him everything that our master had impressed upon me and what we had to do.
Baal ran his fingers through his long blond hair and said, “Well Rotan it seems that we will be going into unknown territory. None of our species have ever needed to travel this far outside the Netherworld tied to Earth. I would not miss this chance to go where we are needed. My respect for you increases each time I am associated with you! Do you have a plan of action?”
“No! Apart from getting there as fast as I can, I can think of nothing else. Once we are there, then will be the time to weigh up the situation and act. In the meantime I think that it is time to put some sinners to the test. We need more speed than this current to be able to navigate,” and with that I pushed the lever halfway towards the plus sign.
We both felt the cries of anguish from below the hold, but paid the sound little interest. As we accelerated downstream the boat seemed to be hurtling down a tunnel. The sides of the waterway began to get hazy and we could see stars surrounding us with the familiar sight of the moon receding far behind us. I reached out with the power invested in me and slowed time to a crawl for us and ruthlessly slammed the propulsion lever hard against the plus. This time we could both hear the screams of the damned as the Ferris wheel picked up speed and the automatic gearbox locked onto top speed. Now the bow lifted out of the water and the boat hydroplaned until only the stern and propeller were immersed in the water. Once that had been achieved I could lessen the exertion on those poor unfortunates that were incarcerated in the hold.
Far ahead at the end of the water channel I could see a pinpoint of dull red that soon began to dominate the forward view. This was the planet Mars that mankind had finally reached. I felt a tingle of pride in my race’s achievement, but also regret that I would have to ensure that it ended in failure. The water channel twisted and turned until it dived towards the planet’s surface carrying us with it. I hauled back the lever into the minus position and slowed the boat, once more ignoring the cries of physical exertion that floated up from the hold. The Netherworld did not totally encompass this dry and empty place. To my dismay the channel came to a stop by petering out and draining into the sands.  We were a very long way from where the mixed crew had established base camp. There was no way that I could sail the boat across this arid desert. A red wasteland stretched as far as I could see, full of mountains and red stony deserts. It had every appearance of a dead world. The sky was empty of clouds and I could see the stars shining down in the thin atmosphere. It was a good thing that I did not need to breathe. 
I would need to invoke my Dark Lord’s power and change things. I wrapped the lengths of His hair around my wrist over the tiller and over the wrists of Baal.
“What are you going to do now, Rotan? It has got to be something very unnatural,” the Arch-prince remarked. “Be very careful about what it is that you intend and whether you can control it!”
“Several billions of years ago this small world had water in abundance. Where the Mars Rover examined the shale, was once the bottom of a sea. We are going back to that time so that we can travel to the expedition’s base camp. We had dropped in the north and most of that part of the planet had been under water at the time that we arrived. We plunged out of the regions of the Netherworld onto the crest of a mighty wave. There was enough of a tenuous link between our dimension and this one to ensure that we did not go to the bottom. The Mars Rover had landed just south of the equator on the edge of the northern sea. The Gale crater had been deemed to have been wet, by its close proximity to that sea and it had in fact filled with water and become a large lake with a mountain jutting out of the middle of the impact crater. It was in this shallow lake that microbial life had flourished under the mutational rays of the early sun. The various kinds of microbes had become survivors of the constant war for existence. Wind driven surges provided waves that broke into the crater replenishing the microbial life there with fresh challenges. 
Isolated from the rest of the sea for long periods they had begun to spread into the edges of that ancient mass of water to try and colonise the empty lands. As the sea dried up however, the life that had evolved there mostly perished as air and water disappeared by evaporation and tiny gravity of this world was unable to hang onto what there was. In the crater the penetration of the microbes into the mud and deeper into the wet ground happened before the surface froze as the planet got colder. A thick layer of permafrost sealed them in and a billion years later they were still waging microbial war against each other. 
The expedition had been ecstatic when they had drilled down through that icy layer to discover exotic life-forms swarming in the wetness still sealed in after all that time. They had taken them inside the domed habitat to study. This was why my master had sent me to this forsaken place. He had glimpsed an alternative future where the crew had come back from Mars and it was more than bleak. 
The wind began to pick up as we sailed. We crested waves of a hundred feet or more that were being driven by those winds and the lesser gravity. Sometimes we bounced upwards and the wave retreated beneath us, only for us to be caught by the crest of the next wave before we fell. The two of us strapped ourselves firmly to the poles that supported the roof using our master’s thick strands of hair. Beneath the hold the unfortunate souls of the wicked continued to obey the instructions that I gave via the motion lever. No matter how the boat was tossed from wave crest to deep trough, they continued to climb the great Ferris wheel that drove the propeller. I continued to press on towards the south and the three mile high mountain that sat in the centre of Gale Crater. It had been named Aeolis Mons that meant Mount Sharp and time had scoured its flanks until it did indeed begin to look like a giant blade thrusting into the skies. At the time that we were making our way across that ancient land the planet was relatively new and the mountain was still quite broad as well as being high.
It gave me a strange feeling to realise that my home planet was still a seething mass of volcanoes erupting into foul and filthy seas. It would be maybe a billion years before the first stirring of life began to turn those oceans to fresh salty water and fill the air with oxygen. Here on Mars life had got started, although it was doomed to never rise beyond the microbial stage and become simple multi-celled organisms. The constant radiation from the sun caused the pace of evolution to surge as there was little to stop the hard particle emissions from constantly bombarding the life under the water. We could feel this alien life it as we dipped and plunged through the waves. There was an overwhelming feeling of malevolence that seemed to seep into our minds. This was a soup of life-forms that would look upon my kind of life as something to enjoy and dominate. It was mindless, yet full of purpose. That purpose was survival of the fittest and at their level of development our kind of life would fall way back on that scale. We now fully understood why our master had sent us on this mission.
Baal called out, “I can see the mountain. It’s fast coming over the horizon. We should soon be there.”
The curvature of this planet was steeper than ours and distances could be deceptive so I pulled the lever into reverse and slowed us down. As we neared land the winds began to slow down a little and the waves got less intense as we breasted shallower ground. I could see a break in the crater’s wall and headed for that, propelled by a surge of water that sent the narrow-boat hurtling through the gap and into a calmer lake. The entire crater was awash and flooded to a depth of no more than ten feet or more. I dropped anchor and let the boat swing round to follow the flow. I reset the lever to neutral and gave the souls below a welcome rest. They had given their very best and had shortened their time at the Ferris wheel by some considerable time. Now it was time to leave this early time of ‘wet Mars’ and return to the present. Once again we wound the thick strands of hair around our wrists and over the tiller of the boat. I reached out to a time when my master existed and called upon His power. Baal also gave me his strength to send my mind forwards billions of years to the present time until I felt the Lord of Punishment’s mind inside mine.
“Rotan! Do whatever you have to. The expedition is making ready to return. They must be stopped and stopped soon,” the Dark Lord commanded.
The waters dropped away and the boat sat on the stony ground just in front of the air-filled dome in sight of their only window. The return shuttle was the other side of my vessel and had been primed for flight. Four of the inhabitants of the dome exited the airlock and were making their way towards their return voyage pulling a cart loaded with specimens. They stopped short, staring at the boat and us. They stopped pulling the cart and made their way towards us. I could not see their faces inside the reflective glass of their helmets, but I could guess what they looked like. 
“Disable the shuttle by causing the ground to give way underneath one of the legs, Baal and I will make sure that they all go back inside the dome. Show your real self to them and that should do the trick.” 
The four astronauts stopped short as Baal expanded to his normal size and unfurled his wings and towered over them. In the low gravity he bounded over to the shuttle and began to excavate the ground around one of the feet using his telekinetic abilities and shovel shaped hands. With him were thousands of imps that had shed the sides of the boat and were all busily digging underneath the landing legs. It was as if the base of the shuttle was covered in a black soup that was full of small digging hands. Now and then the imps would amalgamate together and become a larger being working tirelessly with Baal to topple the transport home onto the red sands of Mars.  
The four stood stock still and then one fell to the ground and began to beat it with a fist. I motioned to them to return to the dome and also changed shape to the demon that only the sinners usually see. That did the trick and they hurriedly returned to the dome. Once they were safely inside and unsuited, I followed them and warped reality to walk through the walls. Meanwhile Baal successfully managed to undermine the landing leg and the shuttle began to topple over helped by him and the imps of Hell lifting one of the other legs.
The twelve of them were staring through the window at the damage being done to their only way home. The women were crying and so were some of the men as Baal continued to wreck the shuttle. I monitored the health of my unfortunate captives and detected a slight fever in three of them. They believed that they had incubated a cold.
I coughed to get their attention and they turned away from the window to stare at me with disbelieving eyes.
The person that I surmised was their leader asked, “What are you? Are you an alien life-form? Why have you done this?” 
“I was once a man just like you. I serve a being that only acts in times of great gravity. I am a Ferryman and collect souls and transport them for a higher purpose. I do not expect you to believe me at first, as few can accept the reality that exists,” I replied. 
One of the men grabbed a box of specimens and threw it at me and of course it passed right through my chest. The others stopped looking for weapons after seeing what had just happened.
“I’ll ask again! Why have you done this? Why now, after all that we have achieved? We have been here for six months exploring the amazing finds that lie under the permafrost. We have found alien life that is astounding and may be the key to all sorts of new discoveries,” their leader said.
“That is the problem my unfortunate people. Three of you think that you have developed colds. Not so! You are swarming with alien microbes that will soon dominate your bodies. All of you will die here on this world and none must ever come here again. You will radio Earth and tell them of your decision to stay here, because of the living death that exists under the permafrost. Also to make sure that no-one ever comes here you will film and transmit the stages that you go through. The being that I serve has seen an alternative future of a microbial Earth where nothing remains of any Earthly life-forms. Everything will have been transmuted into a microbial soup. You will be the saviours of your world not just your species. There is no other way! If you will do this I promise that I will take you back to your home. You must trust me to look after all of you after you have died. In that state I will take you back.”
I stayed with them a month before they all died and one by one they succumbed to the different microbes as one or the other got the upper hand. Some of the effects were so terrible that filming the last stages became too difficult for the survivors. No-one on Earth ever got an inkling of my presence inside the base. The narrow boat did not exist in this reality so was never seen by the anguished people of Earth. The destruction of the shuttle was put down to a desperate and valiant action by the crew to make sure that none could escape. I buried the bodies outside the dome in shallow graves where the radiation of the sun and near vacuum would destroy the Martian life that thrived inside their bodies.
The last living person was a woman called Ayesha and she shut off the radio and television link just before she died cradled in my arms. To the end they still protested that they had isolated all of the specimens that they had collected from beneath the Martian permafrost and could not understand how some got through. Some did get through. They had managed to live billions of years surviving off each other in the most hostile conditions. Working their way through rubber-type seals must have been quite easy.
Once the last of them were safely contained in the ground Baal and I sailed the narrow-boat back through time and eventually back to the Netherworld’s embrace. I had promised to bring them back and I had done so. 
The Lord of Punishment did a unique thing and met all of the astronauts before he personally took them to the last lock and the entrance to Gaia’s realm. As for me, well there were still souls to collect and a boat to judge them. I felt that a few hundred years of solitude would suit me well.  

Barry. E Woodham.

  Tales of the Ferryman. – 14.Soul Purpose.

My duties as a Ferryman often took me deep into the vast watery stretches of the Netherworld. Time passed at a strange way here and sometimes it was always morning and the way was wreathed in mist and other times it was sunset, with a clear view of the lands of the dead in all directions. I had been travelling these waterways seeking out those lost souls that had dropped here from the first reality. Very few were prepared for what actually happened to their souls after they had died. Dimensions were also different here, as my boat was similar to the narrow-boats of old that used to ply the canals carrying cargo and seemed to be about seventy feet long and eight feet wide. In actual fact there was an almost infinite space at the bow to carry the souls of the redeemed and a vast cavity under the hold where the sinners went to toil at the engines that drove my craft until the boat judged that they were at last redeemed. I had no part in the selection as the boat judged the souls that scrambled aboard.
I had joined the select band of soul collectors by being chosen by the Lord of Punishment himself. I met my death during the reign of Elisabeth the first. I had been incautious in my love affair with a lady in waiting to her majesty and my wife had informed one of her advisers that I plotted treason and was a hidden catholic who was secreting wealth where the queen could not have access to it. Nothing brought the regal wrath down on anyone so fast as the inkling that the royal coffers were being cheated of their ‘rightful’ taxes. After putting me to the question, yielded only a few gold coins that I had indeed buried under the floorboards of my house I was incarcerated at the tower and my execution arranged. My dear wife had already set herself as available to a wealthier land owner that lived away from the dangers of the royal court.
The morning of my being put to death began with heavy rain that delayed the process until it eased off and the executioner could be sure not to lose his balance wielding the axe. I had seen the terrible way that death had been administered on those who had struggled and made sure that I would leave this world cleanly. I climbed the steps to the cheering throng and gave a little bow and although my bowels had emptied on the way here I still found a little within me to lose. My guards set me upon my knees and rested my neck against the block and I heard the executioner shift position. The next thing that happened was a brief pain of parting as my head shot forward into the waiting bucket which toppled over, rolling my head across the rough wooden boards. The world span round as my head bounced off the platform and into the waiting mud. I heard the cheer and then it went black.
I seemed to be travelling down a long slanted tunnel with a bright light at the end that broadened as I approached it. The strange thing was I was still attached to my head! I dropped naked onto a vast table where I just sat, unable to comprehend where I was or my condition. The priests had spent long sermons preaching about the torments of Hell and that was where I supposed myself to be. I stood shakily and stared round at what seemed to be a gigantic office. Seated at this table was the being that the priests had described in great detail. He was bright red, with horns growing out of his forehead, but he also had a great mane of hair. The look upon his face was not unkindly as we both took stock of each other.
He spoke gently to me and said, “You were known as Sir Roger Archdale when you were alive. You are neither sinner nor completely without sin either. You were executed on trumped up charges machinated by your wife after she discovered your discretions with the lady in waiting, known as Lady Mary. I look at adultery as part of human nature, not punishable by a sojourn in Hell. On the other hand you have not led what is referred to as a blameless life. You are clever, resourceful and quite brave in the manner that you faced your death.”
“Thank you,” I replied and walked forwards into a better light. “I must admit that this is not quite the Hell that the priests used to drum into us. I am surprised to be still alive and unroasted! At least I suppose that I am alive, because I am here talking to the Devil!” 
A look of annoyance crossed the being’s face as he replied, “I still do not like that term, Devil. I am the Lord of Punishment and I rule this realm that your priests refer to as Hell. Where you are is called the Netherworld and is a clearing house for those who need to do penance for their sins before they are allowed to travel onwards to Gaia’s realm. It also collects those souls that are not quite ready to go straight to that place. There will be a lot for you to adjust to while you are here. You fall into that category that is neither one nor the other which means that I can use your talents in undertaking an irksome task that needs constantly to be done. You will be apprenticed to a Ferryman called Rotan. He was my first soul collector and has served me for far longer than you could imagine. You will learn your trade from him and when deemed fit, you will be given a narrow boat of your own to wander the waterways picking up lost souls.”
“My Lord,” I replied, “Whatever this task is that you require I am your man. I feel alive and that is good enough for me! Set me on my way and I will do your bidding. One boon I ask of you, must I be naked?”
He laughed and said, “You souls never change! You are naked because your soul is naked and your mind has not yet adjusted to the rules of life that control this place. Your own mind controls what you will look like. Be comfortable in how you want others to see you and that will be the way that you look. Now leave me to my duties and follow this imp and she will take you down to the docks where Rotan awaits you.”
With that I turned to see a bright-red naked creature, horned, winged and a barbed tail stood behind me. Looking at the size of her breasts there was no mistaking that she was female. 
The creature gave a throaty laugh and said, “Follow me and keep your hands to yourself, human or I’ll twist your balls off!”
That was my induction into the Dark Lord’s service. I sailed with Rotan for many journeys and on the long passages he told me about some of the tasks that the Lord of Punishment had sent him. He was indeed the first Ferryman and had served our master from long before recorded history. When at last I got my own boat a century or so later, I was quite happy just to collect my quota of souls and to continue to serve Him. I had the great pleasure of greeting my wife at the back of the narrow boat whilst travelling with Rotan and seeing her accepted into the hold. It was a long journey on that trip and treading the Ferris wheel inside the hold was a good penance for her. When we at last docked at the last lock, she left without a backwards glance. I was content.
As the centuries passed in the world above, strange and wonderful discoveries in science bemused me, coming from a pre-industrial epoch. I continued to ply my trade along the waterways without any inclination to leave. Mankind found more and more ways to kill each other and we Ferrymen were always busy.
It was while nosing into undisturbed waters that the boat came upon the strangest thing that I had ever experienced. The year was 1947 in the deserts of America and the place was Roswell, New Mexico. There were always souls to find around air-force bases and I was waiting in the area that co-existed with my world. Something came out of the skies above travelling at a speed greater than the speed of sound. It became a fireball over the top of the boat and came apart. Pieces of the thing showered the desert sands for miles in all directions. I saw three bodies come apart in the air above me and something fell into the marshes of the Netherworld. The military made an immediate presence and were busy searching the sands for bits of whatever had come apart in the skies. They of course could not see me as I only existed on the edge of their reality. I was more interested in what had entered into my world and had sunk into the marshes. There was a great deal of splashing and cries of terror from inside the reed-beds and trailing willows. Whatever had landed in my domain was totally unprepared for where they had ended up after their deaths.
I waited patiently and called out across the marsh to where the noise was coming from. After a while three figures splashed their way towards me, waist deep in the murky waters. They stared at my form at the back of the narrow boat in apparent disbelief, but showed no fear of me at all. I was wearing my human form and as they were obviously able to climb onto the bow, this was how they would see me. I eased the boat forwards towards them and motioned them to climb aboard by the nets at the front. Three slender, small human shaped beings, stood dripping on the front of the boat. Their faces were different to a human being. Their foreheads were broad and their eyes large and slanted with a tapering shape to the skull down to a small mouth. The colouration of their skin was a uniform grey and as they were unclothed I could see that whatever sexual organs they had were tucked out of sight. I looked down on three bald heads that were tilted up to stare at my face.
I heard a voice in my head ask, “Where are we human?”
I took its three fingered hand in mine to show that I was as solid as they were and said, “There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will be direct as you seem to be creatures of great reason. You have all died and are in the afterlife that human beings go to. I am a collector of lost souls and my purpose is to transport those who have lost their way to the last lock of this world where they can disembark into Gaia’s realm. You must have a soul otherwise you would not be here! Had you been wicked the boat would not have accepted you at the front and you would have served a length of time driving the engines in the hold. To those people I would appear as this.”
I changed shape to the demon that was my alter ego and briefly towered over them before altering back to my human shape. The aliens were more fascinated than bothered by my other shape and rapidly spoke amongst themselves. 
“Human! What is to become of us? It is obvious that we do not belong here,” the leader said. “I must admit that none of us expected to survive death, so a continued existence is somewhat of an unexpected bonus. Never the less we are here and by logic alone it must stand to reason that we do belong somewhere.”
“I have no answer to that question, my friend, but I can take you to where someone much higher up the chain of command may be able to. Before we get on with the project in hand we must introduce ourselves to each other. My name is Roger Archdale and I am a male human,” I replied.
 The leader of the three aliens nodded to me and answered, “I too am male in gender and am called Asox these two companions are my ‘pod females’ Besix and Bosix who would have been pod mothers to my prodigy. We call ourselves the People and come from a planet orbiting a star that can only be seen by telescope from your world. Now of course all that is left behind us in our past lives. We had travelled a vast distance to measure your people’s attainments and made quite sure up till now that we had left no trace of our presence. Now your people will have gathered enough of our ship to know that what they have is not of their technology. Somehow we must make sure that this is discredited.”
“I’m sorry, but on no accord are the dead to interfere in the affairs of the living. That is the law. What has been done cannot be undone. What will be, will be, you cannot intervene. The times that my master has intervened in the world of the living are very few.”
“Your race is not yet ready to travel the star-lanes in voyages of discovery. You still kill each other! I have seen horrors that rule your people out of consideration. Now you have discovered nuclear power and two of your years ago you unleashed it against the Japanese. Twice your race of beings have killed millions in two major wars and still you keep on, learning nothing by these awful events except how to make even deadlier weapons. Now there are two heavily armed countries facing each other across this planet’s seas. Now the military are combing the desert searching for anything that has survived the impact. The drive system of our craft is still intact and is out there somewhere. If your people find it they will soon understand the principles that it works on. I beg you if you value your species that drive must not be found. Because if it is, then my people will know and they will face a terrible decision.”
I stared at this small alien man who was sincere in his manner and thought about what he was trying to tell me.
“I have a strong feeling that I know what that decision will be,” I replied and pushed the tiller to the left. 
This took us down a waterway that paralleled the descent scar clearly visible across the dessert range. I pushed the lever to maximum and paid no heed to the anguished cries from the hold. The Ferris wheel began to hum and the propeller bit into the waters and pushed us well ahead of the army trucks into the area that the heavier parts of the craft had impaled into the gravel throwing up crater walls. A bright light was burning, deep inside a hole next to a boulder, thrown up by the impact. A humming filled the air of the world of the living. We stopped and I called on my master’s strength and rent a hole in the fabric of reality over the top of the metallic mass. I changed shape to that of the demon that only sinners could see and grabbed hold of the vibrating struts. With one mighty heave I swung it abroad and laid it down onto the flat area at the bow. It was heavy and the nose of the boat pulled down until the water nearly flowed into the cabin at the end. 
One of the grey people wriggled into the machine and pressed a number of buttons and the vibration died. It ceased to glow and rapidly began to cool. I reverted to my human shape and once more called upon the wicked in the hold to spin the Ferris wheel and I leaned onto the tiller to turn the boat away from the area. Slowly the boat began to turn and we began to lose sight of the search parties strung across the desert sands. We of course were invisible to these men who scoured the crash site and penetrated deeper and deeper into the Netherworld leaving the living far behind us.
A vast shape filled the sky as the Lord of Punishment strode through the marshes to where my boat laboured to pull the great load. He lent forward and picked up the narrow boat, tucked it under an arm and made his way back to his offices. To my surprise my new found friends were unafraid and only curious about this gigantic creature. 
“This is your Dark Lord? We have met his kind on our wanderings throughout the star-lanes. They are from a very ancient world far from this star, but in life much smaller,” the female called Besix remarked.
I had never considered the origins of my master before this time and I looked at him striding through the swamps with a different eye. The thought had never entered my mind that He had been placed here by another higher purpose. How far up the celestial ladder did the realms of judgement go?
Whilst I wrestled with these thoughts the Lord of Punishment walked through the fabric of his castle and placed the narrow-boat upon his desk. Immediately a host of imps drained out of the substance of the boat leaving only the bare skeleton of the structure. He peeled back the top of the hold and shook all of the sinners onto an open box inside a giant drawer, dropped a lid upon it and closed it. He studied the engine that we had brought back from the lands of the living and turned his attention to my alien passengers. 
“I know where you are from, People of the star-lanes. Getting you back there will need a little effort and a mixing of technologies. If your business brings you to this planet for any length of time it may be necessary to ensure that there is an open way back for the souls of your kind. What has happened here can happen again. I will use your ‘lost’ engine to power a shuttle that will take you back to your own section of the Netherworld. Once you have disembarked the vessel it will return to me and remain here until it is required once more.”
Asox looked into the face of my Lord and replied, “My people will be here for as long as it takes to ensure that these humans do not enter the star-lanes too soon. We will watch over them and hope that they will eventually be deemed fit to meet the many other beings that have lived in harmony for eons. They must remain contained in this area until such time that their aggressive behaviour becomes muted. I fear that as you so wisely say, there well may be others of my race who will end their days here and will require a way home. We thank you Ashrak for your compassion and your care.”
I followed the conversation between the alien and my master with great interest. I had often wondered if my master had a name of his own. Somehow these people could communicate to the Dark Lord in a way that was private to them. I watched fascinated as the huge hands manipulated the frame of the narrow boat into a very different kind of vessel. He built a hollow shape that looked like a giant pear and fitted the alien’s engine at the back of it while the front was left open. Inside the spherical shape he fitted a gyroscopic system with a floor and benches inside. 
The Lord of Punishment turned to me and said, “Roger Archdale, I will need this vessel to return to me after these people have safely arrived to their home of their afterlife. You will go with them and pilot the craft back here. Asox will teach you how to command the engine of this vessel and return. I will create a wormhole from here to the home-world of Asox’s people and all you have to do is to stay in it. It will be the same as a canal except that it will be a tube rather than a channel. Do you understand?”
“Yes Master,” I replied. “This will be an amazing voyage for me to undertake. I will be the first Ferryman to make it to the stars and back.”
My Master stared at me with pride and said, “You see Asox, this is why we have bothered with these people for all these years. They have potential. I just hope your people can keep them bottled up long enough for them to attain maturity. It would be great shame to lose them!”
Thousands of black imps swarmed over the vessel’s walls and spread themselves over every surface apart from the entrance. I slipped inside the strange craft and took my place at the control bench along with the spirits of the dead aliens. There were no controls to be seen anywhere. Asox closed his eyes and the vessel began to travel forwards and entered a hole in space that suddenly appeared. As the craft speeded up the gimbals came into effect and the floor took a ninety degree axis to the direction of movement. The outside of the vessel became transparent and I could see the stars as we hurtled along. Soon they began to red shift behind us and turn blue in front. Asox explained the reason and began to show me how to control the ship with my mind.
Inside the vessel time became strange and I was no wiser to know if we were a long time inside the wormhole or moments. All I know was that we stopped and my strange friends climbed out of my Master’s craft and left me to return to my appointed place. All I saw was a vast city that extended as far as the eye could see. Here there was no lord of punishment because these people had no concept of sin and wickedness. They had grown out of such childish pursuits eons ago. I felt humbled as I returned to my home. 

Barry E Woodham.

Tales of the Ferryman. – 15.
Soul Knowledge.

The Netherworld extended throughout this dimension almost to infinity, joining millions of others. Hundreds of thousands of narrow boats wended their way through the channels collecting the souls that fell from the lands of the living. Each boat was captained by a Ferryman and each of one of these had been picked by me or had decided not to carry on at the end of their journey into Gaia’s realm. These few redeemed sinners took on the duties of a Ferryman and plied the waterways in my name and collected souls. 
My people had constructed the Netherworld eons ago when the universe was new. We were the first to dawn into sentience and we were totally alone for a several billion years or more. During that time we became immortal and were faced with the responsibility of running the universe and we encouraged sentience wherever we found that a ‘nudge’ would provoke results. Sometimes as gardeners we would have to weed out the foul shoots and start again. 
I had been in charge of humanity right from the beginning when Homo-erectus had first started to use simple tools. Many different types of man had come and gone until the present day when Homo-sapiens displaced Homo-Neanderthal in the race for dominance. I was saddened to see the Neanderthals disappear from this world, but took some comfort in the fact that genetically they became absorbed into man’s genome. 
In the early days I had intervened from time to time when the aura of wickedness became too much for me to bear and had tried to encourage mankind to turn his collective back on evil and wickedness. From time to time a few good men had overturned the balance and destroyed the wicked. It was hard to learn to understand this very alien emotion, as my kind had no experience amongst ourselves. Few sentient life forms ever killed their own kind.
From time to time the actions of my charges sickened me and forced my hand, causing me to use my powers through the conduits of my Ferrymen. I caused some terrible regimes to founder by taking direct action. Some of the early cities and their despicable cultures forced me into action, but all in the end to no avail. So I allowed mankind to seek its own destiny and now they sat on the brink of disaster as the weapons that they had developed had become too powerful to dare to use. There were always fanatics who were prepared to die without thinking of those they were taking with them. I feared that nuclear devices were being smuggled into cities. Time and again intelligence services found them just in time.
Opposing religions had spread throughout the various societies, all of them declaring the others wrong. Intolerance spread hatred and ignorance held sway, deeply rooted amongst a great deal of them. Here and there however, sanity prevailed and time after time this planet was pulled out of peril by the efforts of a few. 
Only a small number of them adjusted easily to the Netherworld and accepted the way that reality was here. These were predominately those who died with no pre-set beliefs and all were grateful that they had survived the transition from flesh to spirit and that death was not oblivion. Many of them filled the holds of the narrow boats and laboured in terrible conditions until they redeemed themselves. Some of them stored up so much evil that even when the boats pulled into the last lock they were condemned to remain inside the hold and do another journey. The Imps that spread themselves over the hull of the narrow-boat were the ones who judged the souls that laboured inside the hold. They were tuned to sense sin and wickedness and until they sensed a moment of redemption from those who arduously fed the engine by their efforts, they kept them imprisoned. 
In this world souls could feel the need for water and rest even though they would never need either. They were racked with thirst and aching muscles because their minds told them that was what they should suffer. Inside the hold, rats would continue to eat them alive while the bites healed overnight, only to present new flesh to be gnawed upon in the morning. Once a realisation of the wicked things that they had done in life began to gnaw upon their souls and true sorrow for what they had been responsible for, made them weep, would they be sensed by the Imps. When this occurred they would find themselves propelled onto the deck to confront the Ferryman who would welcome them with open arms. Redemption was possible here and at the end the cleansed souls would be at last fit to journey onwards.  
I loved them all as if they were my own children and felt their pain. I was proud of the men and women who elected to remain and work as Ferrymen in my domain. Some of them had been with me since the ice-caps had given way and released the lands from under the glaciers. Although their souls were scoured clean, they chose to stay and help keep watch over the many races of mankind that had evolved. 
Now I had the problem of the People of the Star-lanes who had come to this world to keep a brake upon mankind until he was ready morally to go to the stars and meet other cultures. I had already sent three of them back to their home-world’s afterlife and accidents had happened with collisions between alien vessels and fighter planes that had chased them. When that had happened, the alien crafts had vaporised rather than leave anything behind that might be picked up and examined. Now the grey ones kept mainly on the dark side of the moon and ran a base from there. 
The scientific knowledge of this species continued to grow far faster than the people of the Star-lanes could cope with and they retreated from the moon to Ganymede where they could still outwit the sensors of the human beings. The time was fast approaching when others of my kind would come here to sit in judgement on these incredible people. I had saved them from extinction several times by intervening in their affairs. 
The closest call was when I was forced to make sure that the manned Mars expedition did not come back to Earth, bringing the microbial life that would have wiped out every living thing on this planet. In the past I had to stand by and prepare my Ferrymen to be ready to accept a quarter of a million souls when a tsunami hit the holiday coastline. Volcanoes erupted and more bewildered souls were collected from the aftermath. 
Now the one thing I had dreaded was starting to show activity. The super volcano underneath Yellow-stone Park was beginning to surge upwards and fill the void. The last time this had exploded the northern parts of America had disappeared under a mantle of ash in some places a mile deep. The sun had not been seen for years and a mass extinction had taken place. The different types of mankind had been reduced to a few species as they could not adapt. It was indeed the survival of the fittest for the few thousand who had managed to scavenge what they could. This time man was not so adaptable and did not have the hunter-gatherer skills. 
If I were to be able to do anything I would need my people to help. I would need to convince them that humanity were worth saving and would contribute to the myriad species of sentient creatures that inhabited the rest of the universe. It still amazes me that a matter of a few hundred years ago they used horses to get around. Now they use jet planes and have sent out planetary probes! What they could achieve in the future is a matter of conjecture. All I have to do is to keep them alive. It gets harder every year! 
I put out a telepathic call to my brethren and waited for a response to my plea. I could only hope that they would see some saving grace amongst the billions of sentient beings on this world. 
I feared the question that they would ask and that would be, “Do they still kill their own young?”
An answer of, “Most of them do not,” would not sway the judgment.
So I sit and wait and struggle with argument after argument in their favour to sway the ruling in their favour. They will be here soon and already the super volcano is starting to rise.

  
Barry E Woodham.

Tales of the Ferryman. – 16.
Soul at Bay.


Baghdad was unbearably hot that morning with not a breath of wind to lift the heat of the soon to be mid-day sun. I sat in my car exulting in the crowds that had gathered in the market. My exit into paradise would be assured once I pressed the detonator button. The car was filled with shrapnel and the devastation would fill the media and saturate the television coverage. I watched as the children of my enemies laughed and played games among the stalls of fresh fruit and vegetables. Soon they would be shredded and become part of the bloody harvest that I would gather for the cause.
I pulled the detonator from the glove-box, wound the wires around the pins and looked up into the terrified gaze of a man carrying a small child in his arms.
He cried out, “Do not do this! May your soul rot in hell for what you are about to do!” 
I smiled at him and pressed the button to begin my journey into paradise.
I felt nothing.
There was a great white light that shone inside my skull and I could see the carnage that I had unleashed. The market was a fireball that reached into the sky and there was little trace of what it once was. People and parts of people were scattered throughout the wreckage. I had been successful beyond my leader’s hopes. He would get great coverage for our cause and would be listened to and feared as he had intended. My martyrdom would ensure that I would enter paradise and be praised by those who had come before me.
The light went out and I was falling into a blackness dotted with lights.
I spun this way and that falling, always falling, like a leaf from an infinitely high tree. Spinning down now that tunnel of light, I fell and fell.
 There was no pain and my soul was new again.
 Into the Netherworld I entered, lost upon the breeze, sailing like a leaf.
 This became a timeless spasm when the sun neither rose nor set and I was for a while, alone.
I froze, transfixed, my journey interrupted, hovering in the air. Beneath me was a network of shining silver light, eagerly awaiting me? Puzzled thoughts coursed through my mind and I asked, could this be the paradise that I was promised for my martyrdom?

I am suddenly transported from that place, leaving my body transfixed while my naked soul stands upon a desk facing a form that I know full well from the teachings.  
"Shaytan," I gasp and fall to my knees and try to hide myself on that cold surface. “Where is the paradise that I was promised? Why am I here and not there?”
“Stand,” the command echoes into the very substance of my soul. 
Unwillingly I do so and stare at the huge face that that knows everything about me. I want to bury my face into the darkness of his desk, but cannot. Those eyes stare down at me and I see pity rather than anger! Behind him are the dancing fires of Hell! 
His voice runs through my soul like a hot knife through butter and he says, “You have slaughtered innocent lives. Your mind has been filled with hatred for your fellow men. You are a killer of children and women to serve an evil that had you in its thrall. You are fixed in this, my world of retribution until you do enough penance to release you from the evil that you have done. Until you truly repent it will be your fate to stay here and be hunted by the Hounds of Hell, controlled by the last man that you saw, before you pressed the detonator button. I am the Lord of Punishment and this man Achmed will be the instrument of your repentance. Look upon him and recognise his face.”
I turned unwillingly to stare at the man who had held his daughter and spoke to me as I detonated the car-bomb. He had wound round his wrist, three leather straps that were attached to the collars of the most ferocious dogs that I had ever seen. They looked like huge, grey wolves crossed with bears. Their teeth were inches long and their paws ended in talons rather than claws. As they bared their teeth, drool splashed down over their feet and their eyes glowed with an unearthly redness.  They stood hip high by Achmed’s side obediently waiting for him to let them loose.
The Lord of Punishment pointed his taloned finger at me and said, “I will release you where your new body hangs in the air. Achmed will have to find you and hunt you down. Each time that he does, the hounds will shred you to pieces and feed upon your living corpse. When they have shit, you will reform and the hunt will begin again. They will have to find you, as I will move you to a new place, each time that you revive. This will continue to happen until you are truly repentant for the act of barbarism that you carried out.”
With those words ringing in my ears, I was returned to my body that was now falling towards the canals of the Netherworld and their myriad narrow-boats waited to collect their harvests of souls.

I plunged into the cold waters of a wide canal and swam to the bank that had a towpath. The sun hung low upon the sky and the encroaching darkness was full of terrors. I sat, wet and frightened trying to make sense of it all. It seemed that all that I was taught was false and that the life after death was a far different place than was supposed by the imams. Over and over I could see the look in the eyes of the man who had been robbed of his child. He was angry, but with pity in his soul for what I had become. How old was that little girl in his arms? No more than three, I would guess and now robbed of her life and all that might have been. I had no time for pity when terror griped my soul, as I heard the sound of a howl carried by the wind. It was answered by another to my left. A few moments later a howl from behind me made me slip into the cold embrace of the canal. I waded out until only my nose and eyes were above the waters. 
The moon had risen and a silvery light bathed the bank and towpath where three huge shapes had materialised from out of the darkness. The Hounds of Hell had found my scent where I had sat to dry off. They were ranging backwards and forwards from that spot without picking up anything.
Achmed came into view and fondled around the ears of one of the beasts. He turned and stared out at the water and saw my tiny bump poking through the surface. 
He turned the Hound’s head towards my hiding place and shouted out, “I do not even know your name, terrorist. The child that you slaughtered was called Ruth and she was just three years old. Now it is time that you paid the first price for your actions.”
With that he pushed the first Hound into the water’s edge and the others followed. In vain I struggled to reach deeper water before the jaws of the first beast clamped down on my arm. He tore it off and the others plunged into the bloody remains and dragged me to the bank where they tore my body apart, each bite I felt like a branding iron into my flesh. I still lived, until the last part of my body was consumed and I felt every crunch of those jaws as they swallowed my very bones.

I awoke in strong sunlight, sprawling naked on hard baked rocky ground at the top of a hill, racked with thirst. Surrounding the hill were scrub and brambles with wicked thorns that led right down to the edge of the canal. This time I was on the bank opposite the tow path. My body showed no scars or wounds from the mauling that I had suffered on that night time attack. I could see that a narrow boat was approaching from my left hand side. If I could only get aboard the craft then perhaps I could hide from the hounds that pursued me. I struggled through the undergrowth leaving pieces of skin and blood on the thorns of the brambles as I forced my way through them. At last I pushed my aching body into the cool waters of the canal and drank gratefully as I splashed my way across. I scrambled out and waved at the long boat that was unhurriedly making its way towards me. The front of the boat was open and people were sat enjoying the sun and I waved to them.
The skipper of the boat put the engine into reverse and pulled the boat to a stop. The people at the front pushed a plank out of the side and onto the towpath for me to walk up. They threw a rope to me for me to hold onto to help me to balance while I walked up the gangplank. I grasped the end of the rope and it burnt the skin of my hand as well as the foot that I had placed upon the wooden plank. They pulled the plank back into the boat and curled the rope upon the roof and stared at me.
“It’s him,” a voice called out. “He is the one who blew apart the market. There is no place for him here.”
The boat picked up speed and the skipper on the back spoke to me as it passed and said, “You have a great deal of suffering to endure before you can ride one of these boats. I carry the redeemed to the end of their journey and I am called the Ferryman. My hold is full of sinners who drive the engines of this boat. You have another journey of redemption to travel. Run while you can for I hear the Huntsman coming with the Hounds of Hell.”
“Have mercy upon my soul, Ferryman and let me on board,” I screamed and tried to catch onto the side of the boat as it passed.
“Did you have mercy to my passengers when you took their lives? I think not you damned soul,” he replied and kicked my fingers from the heated gunwale of the narrow boat.
I could hear the Hounds coming along the towpath howling for my blood and I ran as I had never run before. A large tree with many branches grew by the side of the towpath and I climbed it as fast as I could. From up here I could see them as they ran unleashed towards my tree followed by the Huntsman, Achmed. He ran without any exertion and touched the ground every ten feet or so, keeping up effortlessly with the hounds. As the three hounds reached the bottom of the tree they sprang into the lower branches. To my horror they climbed the tree with all the skill of apes, digging their talons into the bark as came ever upwards. It did not take them long to catch me and hook their talons into my legs, dragging me down to the towpath. Once down on the ground two of them proceeded to eat me from the legs up while one ate my arms. I was then disembowelled and they tore my chest open until there was nothing left but my head.
All this time, Achmed just sat and watched and talked to me about his daughter. He told me how much he had loved her and that she was soon to go to school and start her studies. His eldest son had trained to be a doctor and was one of the ones who had stitched and mended the people that had survived my homemade bomb. At last they crunched up my head and darkness claimed my soul.

I awoke this time on a vast desert of endless sand and sharp, burning rocks without any shade or cover. In the far distance I could see a silvery ribbon of water. This had to be one of the many canals that threaded their way throughout this vast wilderness. My mouth was dry and burning with thirst so I had little choice than to make for the canal to slake my unendurable thirst. My bare feet were cut and bleeding by the time that I managed to heave myself into the cooling water and my skin was peeling from the heat of the sun. Over the countless hours that I had toiled towards the canal it had remained overhead as if it was fixed into the sky. 
I heard the Hounds of Hell once again give tongue, as they picked up my scent. Following behind them strode Achmed unconcerned by the heat of that brassy sun. Terrified, I ran along the towpath until my breath gasped in my chest for more air and I could run no more. I collapsed sobbing onto the stony ground as the hounds once more did their awful task.
I lost count of the times that had gone by as the Huntsman and his infernal Hounds tracked me down. Each time I slowly died Achmed told me more about his family and friends that had been in the market that day. It seemed centuries ago that I had detonated the bomb. In return I told him my name and those who had sent us to our deaths. He hunted me across grassy prairies, mountain valleys, through scrubland and jungle. There was no place to hide. I met different Ferrymen and women as I came ever close to the canal system, desperate for water. Each time the boat refused to help me and several times I died in front of the souls gathered at the front. All of them knew my sins and they all watched impassively as the Hounds tore me apart again and again. 
Sometimes I saw the Ferryman as only the sinners could see him and there would be no mercy there from that demonic shape. I began to believe that I would spend eternity being hunted by the Hounds and I wept in fear of each encounter and sometimes I wept for the Huntsman’s family that I had destroyed. I also began to weep for the innocents that I had taken with me along with Achmed. 

I awoke shivering with cold as I lay in soft powdery snow and once more struggled to my feet. This time I did not run, but waited for the sound that would tell me that once again I would face a fate worse than death. Soon I saw the dark shapes leaping through the powdery snow dragging the Huntsman behind them, the snow ploughing away from his feet like skis. He released the hounds and I stood head bowed to receive them. They bounded through the snow towards me, as they caught my scent. Each one of them was the size of a lion and tireless in their pursuit. They stopped and sniffed the air. Slowly they advanced until the drool from their mouths washed over my feet and froze. They circled round me and then lay down in the snow staring at the Huntsman for instructions.
“Do I sense a change in your soul, Hassan? Can you truly be repentant for what you did?” he asked.
“Oh Achmed! If I could only go back and change what I had done, I would gladly return and make my body a feast for the hounds and rejoice in my atonement. I carry the souls in my heart that I took out from their lives and the pain of that is greater than being eaten alive by the Hounds. I would change what was, not for my worthless, damned soul, but to restore your daughter to life and even you, my relentless pursuer. None of you deserved to die. I would roast forever in the fires of Hell if I could reverse what was done,” I replied and stood waiting for the Hounds to rend me apart once more.

The snowy wasteland was replaced by the top of the Lord of Punishment’s desk and I fell to my knees. The horned face stared down at me with compassion in his eyes and he scooped me up in his bright red, taloned hand. 
“Milliseconds have gone by in the real world and that being so I have the power to reverse time a few seconds only and return you to where you were, moments before you detonated the bomb. I can do this only once. The rest is up to you, if you are truly repentant,” whispered the great Lord to me, as I stood without fear in the palm of his hand.

All of the surroundings altered and I was back in my car about to twist the wires onto the pins of the detonator switch. Achmed stood in front of my car holding his daughter to his chest and he smiled at me. I pulled the wires away from the switch and wept tears of relief. 
Achmed opened the car door and sat beside me with his daughter on his lap and said, “Take it somewhere safe, miles into the desert and be rid of this abomination. I do not want to hunt you anymore, Hassan, but we will never forget, you and I. The Dark Lord of Punishment has made it so.
I took my car-bomb away from that market place and dropped off my once tormentor and judge near to his home. I drove out into the desert wastes, far from the road. There I once more twisted the wires around the pins and pushed the button.
Now I am a Ferryman doing the Lord of Punishment’s will and gathering up the souls of those who need to be found. I have spent an immeasurable time gathering souls and I do not feel that I have as yet done enough to wipe away the memory of what I once willingly did. The ache in my soul still does not go away and I bless the great Ruler of this ‘place’ that he granted me a second chance. 
I have been fortunate that I was the one who hauled Achmed from the waters and onto my boat. The news that he told me gave me some rest and peace of mind. His daughter was now married and had children of her own. She had followed the path of her elder brother by becoming a doctor and saving lives. Achmed had lived the rest of his life, remembering the time that he had become the Huntsman leading the Hounds of Hell, but he had never told a living soul. 
Maybe this time when I discharged my cargo at the final lock, I would follow Achmed beyond that barrier and into paradise. 

Barry E Woodham.


Tales of the Ferryman. - 17.
17 - Soul Calling.


The sounds of the Damned fill the air, as I insist on more speed.
I hear the sound of the wheel as the great cage rotates, driving the propeller.
It has been a steady climb from the depths of Hell and the locks have been stiff.
The hold is full of fresh sinners and I do not hold back my demands for more speed. Above the clouds a war is happening and as we travel along the waterways, souls are spilling into the realm of the Lord of Punishment. They are scattering into this dimensionless dominion as we climb. Behind me cruise a fleet of narrow-boats with empty cabins with the holds crammed with those who have earned the terrible punishment by their actions in life. They will propel this boat until we enter the last lock when those who have attained redemption will travel on into Gia’s realm. 
Fresh from the administrations of those who toil in the dry dock, the narrow boat absorbs what light there is, in the midnight black of sides and bottom. Hundreds of the imps of the great ruler of this realm have become a liquid that soaks into the material of the boat, becoming the very judge of the souls that we collect. It is not my place to judge, merely to navigate the endless threads of waterways that twist and turn throughout this realm. The climb from the depths of Hell takes many what can be termed as days and nights in this strange place. 
I cruise into the lock with the gates left open by the previous Ferryman and climb the ladder to the top. Once inside, the gates close behind me and the water pours into the chamber while I hold the vessel steady as it rises. As the pressure of the water equalises each side of the top gate they automatically open. In all the centuries that I have wandered these waterways I have never seen a lock-keeper, but I hear the sounds of the chains that bind each sinner to their post. As time goes by, redemption of some kind is paid and each lock-keeper makes his or her way to the top and sometimes when a Ferryman reaches the top lock of the Hell’s flight they might find someone waiting. 
I have shared my vessel with many a redeemed soul that needs only to help the souls on board when harvest time occurs. My nameless vessel entered through the iron gates into the last of the flight and I climbed the ladder fixed to the stone wall wondering if I would find company waiting for me as the lock filled. Below me as the chamber filled, the water surged back and forth causing the boat to bump and grind the sides. I heard the terrified screams of the sinners locked into the hold and took no notice. They would soon be running up the endless track of the Ferris wheel propelling the narrow boat through the endless waterways. Whatever it was that they had done in the world of the living had resulted in this form of incarceration until the boat judged that true redemption had been achieved. I had glimpsed the depths of the hold when sinners that could not climb aboard the bow were accepted at the stern. It is a fierce-some place infested with huge rats that bite and tear at the sinners locked inside the wheels. Although they soon heal, the pain endured is enough that few would try to go slow when I push the drive stick forwards. The Lord of Punishment has worked a strange twisting of dimensions, making the hold much bigger inside than the boat could possibly carry. The same thing happens if the number of souls rescued from the canals at the bow, are greater in volume to the cabins provided. During one of the fierce wars fought on the land of the living thousands of souls were taken aboard at the bow. Friend and foe alike it made no difference once they were taken aboard. 
I was born during a war between Imperial Rome and the barbarian hoards that besieged the falling Roman Empire. As soon as I was big enough to weld a sword I was drafted into the discipline of the Roman army. As the years slipped by I was able to rise in rank to the command of centurion. That got me killed, as my men and I attempted to hold back a superior force of maddened barbarians, hell bent on wading through our blood. We were trained to fight and to obey orders, but found ourselves fighting a mob in a berserker rage. Whatever drugs they had taken before they found my detachment, had fuelled their killing instincts to the point that they felt no pain or tiredness. A sheer mass of shields, swords, hammers and brutality got them through our defences like a hot knife through butter. They hacked off the heads of my men and stuck them on the sharpened stakes we had carefully installed. Recognising the insignias I wore as centurion, they kept me alive as long as it suited them, as a trophy to parade in front of the war-chieftain. They hamstrung me to prevent me from escaping and left me in a cage, lashed to a tree. The cold rain and frosts finished off what the barbarians had begun, in that I eventually fell sick and died coughing in the night. 
I had killed many men, but only in combat and in situations of kill or be killed. After that last deep tearing cough I found myself free of pain and falling into this strange world. It seemed I fell endlessly until I was snatched out of this ‘flight’ by a giant hand. It set me down upon a vast table overlooked by a being that I recognised from paintings of the Gods as Pan. I felt no fear, as how could I being dead? I wondered where all the other Gods had hidden themselves as there just seemed to be the two of us.
“Centurion! You stand before me as a soul who has not the taint of sin about you, but you are a killer of men. As such you fall into a different category from the majority who pass this way. You are neither saint not sinner and so I have a proposition for you. You can choose to serve me in this, my realm dealing out my judgement collecting souls as they fall into this world from the land of the living. It will be your charge to collect and deliver them to their final destination. When you reach that point you will have another choice, as to whether to continue into the next realm or follow Me. I will send you on your travels in the company of a seasoned Ferryman to learn about this realm and the laws that govern it,” the figure of Pan said.
I suddenly had in my mind all the information that I needed to make my decision and nodded to the giant figure before me and replied, “You offer much, my Lord. I have no family and now nowhere to go and I have always wanted to see what lies over the next ridge. I am happy to put away my sword and instead do something useful for a change.”
Pan smiled and held out his hand for me to step once more upon it and said, “I thank you, Centurion. Serve me well and you will find me a good master. Now I will place you in the docks where you will meet your first Ferryman. His name is Rotan and he has been in my service since time began in this realm.”
That was centuries ago and I had decided to continue in the service of the Lord of Punishment once we had ferried my first shipment through the Last Lock and into Gaia’s realm. I had learnt much from the man I was placed with on that first journey and was amazed at the length of time that he had spent here. His kind had hunted Woolly Mammoths and lived in caves as hunter-gatherers. He had seen the civilisation of mankind and had performed many tasks for the being that I thought was Pan. I still called him that although I had never seen any others of his kind in all the time that I had spent here. I enjoyed the solitude and the company from time to time as I took on board a new apprentice Ferryman. Now the lock was almost full and I waited for the gates to swing open and to my delight there was a woman pushing the gates open. The chains that held her prisoner lay in a heap by her bare feet. I could see that her soul had been purged by her service to the lock-gates by the welcoming smile on her face.
“Would you like company, Ferryman? I have seen you pass this way many times and have wished that we could meet when my time was done and here you are!”
“What name are you calling yourself? My name is Julius,” I replied.
“Susan will do,” she answered and climbed on board. 
I pulled the boat away from the gates after we had closed them together and saw the chains move as a new occupant took up the labours of the dammed. We heard the chamber start to empty as we boarded the narrowboat and the gates swung shut. Ahead stretched the endless waterways fringed by rushes and willow trees. 
The sky was that sickly yellow colour with deep clouds that foretold a big harvest was on its way. Above us in the first realm, mankind was indulging in another killing spry and the sounds of heavy guns boomed dully as the sound cut through the dimensional curtains. The noise came from way in front of us so I ignored the screams and groans of the sinners in the hold and applied for more speed. Deep beneath my feet the Ferris wheels began to turn faster and faster as the souls like demented hamsters toiled inside the wheel. The boat surged ahead as the propeller turned the water aft the colour of mud. 
I had seen this so many times over the centuries as the petty squabbles of mankind turned to war. My new companion would be going to suffer a shock as the souls fell like rain into the marshes each side of the canal. The first time was always the worst, but after a while as a Ferryman, you became inured to the bewilderment and fear. It was collecting the children that I hated the most of the task of fetching them to the boat. All I could do was to warn Susan that soon we would be doing the Lord of Punishment’s work. It would be far more arduous than operating the lock gates of the Hell Flight. I lit the lanterns along the narrow boats length so that the frightened souls would see that there was some kind of salvation in the middle of the swamps sucking reach. 
I turned to my female companion and said, “Whatever you do, do not go near the hold when I go collecting souls. You will stay here on the boat while I must wade through the morass to find the children that will have found their way into this realm. Direct those who can climb the rope nets at the front to wait for my return inside the main cabin. I will drop an anchor over the stern of the boat so that it will not move away once I judge that we are in the best position for soul collection. There will be other boats dotted about the Slough of Despond engaged in the same occupation as ourselves. Those that climb aboard at this end will be absorbed into the hold to work until they have paid their redemption and satisfied the boat that they have recanted of the wickedness that has brought them here.”
“I hear what you say, Julius and somehow my mind is filling up with the knowledge of what I have to do. I will go to the other end of the boat and urge those who have made their way to the boat, come aboard,” Susan replied with her eyes widening in the volumes of understanding that was flooding her brain.
“What you need to know, the boat will tell you. If there is a great number of wickedness amongst the souls that seek to come aboard, you will see that many of the imps that are the coating of this boat, will detach themselves from the fabric of its manufacture and gather them in. they will then be re-absorbed into the boat. It is not my place to judge, only to collect and ferry them to their final destination.”
As I was about to jump into the water she asked, “How long have you been doing the Lord of Punishment’s will?”
I smiled and said, “Getting on for two thousand years give or take a hundred,” as I entered the water. “There are others who have been doing this task for much longer than me. Some since this place was built!”
With that I forced my way through the underbrush and into the swamp where I could hear the sounds of children crying. I realised that this was why I stayed captaining the boats from the depths of Hell. There would always be frightened children needing me to collect their souls and keep them safe as long as mankind continued to fight and squabble over possessions or differences in faith. It always came as a great shock once they reached here and found that reality was far different than anything that they had dreamed of.
I pushed my way into a clearing that was full of what was left of a group of children. There were body parts strewn all over the swamp, slowly knitting up together to form whole bodies as their souls formed into what they remembered themselves to be. Fortunately their wounds were rapidly forgotten as they became whole. I held my lantern high so that they could see that someone had come for them and I called out to them to gather to my side. Whatever had happened before they got here must have been a direct hit on a school. Now they would gently age into what all souls became in this place, young men and women. By the time we had reached the final lock great changes would have been made and even the babies would grow. It was something that I had grown used to in the many centuries that I had acted as a soul gatherer, but it never ceased to amaze me. Now however I needed to get back to the narrowboat and see them safely to the bow where all the other ‘saved’ people would be on board. I wound my rope around their reforming bodies and pulled them along through the swamp. Those that were too small I carried in my arms and made my way back to the boat. The water was warm and the bottom solid and easy to walk upon so those children that could walk did so while I pulled the rest. I kept telling them that they were now safe and nothing bad would ever happen to them again. All of them understood my speech and each other, as due to how this place was constructed, all spoken language was the same. 
I burst through the undergrowth and there was the narrowboat with the climbing nets cascading over the bow where people were climbing aboard helped by my new companion, Susan. Willing hands soon pulled the children into the bow and I took up my position at the stern and pushed the lever into drive after pulling in the anchor. The boat surged along the canal towards that final destination as I once more ignored the moaning of the sinners in the hold as they ran inside the Ferris wheel. Behind me came more of the midnight black narrow boats equally loaded with new cargo.  The holds began to fill with the souls of the damned and extra wheels were fitted into place by imp engineers to exact the utmost from the wicked. More souls would soon be falling from this new war, being fought in the lands of the living. As they fell, more boats and skippers would be making the long climb from the docks of Hell to take my place in the Netherworld.  
Barry E Woodham.

Tales of the Ferryman. - 18.
18 - Soul Torment.


There is light in the hold. Sometimes I wish that it was dark so that I could not see the conditions that I am forced into to do my penance. I deserve the punishment meted out to me. In life I was a killer of children and sexually abused them. I am forced to remember every one of those tortured souls as I race the wheel at the Ferryman’s requirement. There are an endless line of hamster wheels each with a damned soul sealed in place. They are all connected to a drive system that drives the propeller at the narrowboat’s stern. When the Ferryman calls for speed we obey and tread the wheels. 
We toil naked and if we try to disobey, there are rats twice the size of those that live in the slums of the cities. They feed upon the flesh of the damned and sometimes until everything has been eaten. We wake whole, but the rats are always hungry and we run inside the wheels until we drop. Now when I see the faces of those children I weep at the awful things that I have done. I know that my punishment is just and I gladly offer myself to the teeth of the rats. There is no escape from the hold or the wheel and the unrelenting thirst. We drag the humid air into raggedly pumping lungs and feel the thumping of our hearts as we run and run inside the endlessly turning wheels.
Now and again the boat stops and the Ferryman leaves to gather souls that have dropped into this realm. If they are deep within the marsh we are allowed to rest until he returns, grateful of the extra time spent while he searched. Sometimes the roof of the hold opens and more of the damned are shovelled in and take their place in extra wheels. It is the only time that we can see out at the world beyond the narrowboat. Sometimes the sun shines into the hold and we stretch our arms into the light. Very often it is night-time and a cool breeze wafts into the hold drying the perspiration upon our sweat-soaked bodies. All too soon the hatch closes and we are once again plunged into semi-darkness.
The Ferryman demands full speed ahead and we obey. 

Barry E Woodham.

Tales of the Ferryman.
19 - Soul Hound.


The hounds of Hell were created by the Lord of Punishment. They are neither dog, cat nor ape, yet a strange mixture of all three. The head has a wolf-like appearance with large ears that are carried erect just like a wolf. The paws have retractable claws at front and back, but the front pair can extend into hands when they stand erect upon their hind feet. This enables them to climb, should they need to if transient souls try to hide in the tops of trees or high cliffs. Their sense of smell is as good as or even better than a wolf’s and they can smell out a hidden soul from the edge of the horizon. They hunt in packs overseen by a Hounds-man who can run as fast as any of the hounds.
At times the pack travels with a Ferryman and hitch a lift through the marshes until they arrive at the hill country. This broken land extends indefinitely and raises from the wetlands into a range of jagged mountains that shelter the souls that have managed to hide in wickedness from the sharp eyes of the Ferrymen. Fully aware of the evil that they had done in life the urge to hide away was uppermost in their minds. Being aware of these who had escaped punishment the Dark Lord created the Hell Hounds and their masters.
These were the redeemed souls that had elected to stay on this side of the Netherworld and work for the Lord of Punishment and do his will. For them the realm of Gaia held little in the way of contentment or succour and they were content to serve. I was one of these faithful servants and had been so, since I had toiled on Pharos’s tomb, hauling the great blocks of stone under the lash of the overseer in the heat of the sun. 
There came a day when a block would not move as a roller disintegrated under the weight. The whip-master became insane with rage and lashed the slaves with a madness brought on by his fear of the wrath of the grand-vizier should the block remain stuck. He whipped my brother to his bloody death and I could take no more. I charged him with my remaining strength and the two of us fell from the edge locked together. We were at the top of the ramp, when I took him over and it took several seconds before we hit the waiting blocks of stone far below. My body crunched as my chest imploded and my head broke open on a sharp edged block. I died knowing that the overseer had died with me and as it went dark I was satisfied. 
I was aware of falling onwards and onwards through the blackness tumbling over and over until I dropped through grey mists and onto a giant table. The first thing that I noticed was there was no pain and my raging thirst was gone. My body was strong again and the scars of the lash had disappeared. I slowly stood erect and stared around me and found that I was in the presence of a god that I did not recognise. I expected Horus god of the dead to be in judgement of my soul, but this giant creature was unlike any that I had seen drawn inside Pharaoh’s tomb.      
“Meriptah, I see you and have judged you accordingly. Although you caused the death of the overseer by sacrificing your own I cannot find evil in your soul,” the god spoke.
“Great Lord is this, the after-life that the priests told us about? I tremble in your presence and await your commands,” I replied and fell to my knees in front of the horned god.
The being smiled kindly at me and suddenly I knew no fear in his presence as I stared up at a face the size of one of Pharaoh’s blocks of stone.
“There are many stations in the after-life Meriptah and all are filled by the souls that drop into the Netherworld. Some are lost. Some seek to hide because of the wickedness that they inflicted on others during their time. Those who seek redemption do so and travel on, to Gaia’s realm once this has been retained. Some like yourself can be offered a position preforming a service for me and can remain here as long as they wish. I have men and women that cruise the waterways as Ferrymen that pick up the souls that are lost and those who have a need for redemption. This position is not for you. I have need of a Hounds-man that can run with the Hounds of Hell and direct them to seek those who would try to hide from me and the justice that they deserve. You have had experience controlling hunting dogs before, so I feel that you will suit the position well,” the Lord of Punishment answered.
I stood up and stared him in the face and said, “I would willingly serve you in whatever capacity you require, my Lord” and found that my mind was full of knowledge that had been put there by the horned god. “I ask only one thing oh great Lord and that is news of my brother. Is he here in this realm? Could it be possible that he travel with me and assist me controlling the hounds?”
“I have made it so. You will find Ramose at the hounds’ pen waiting for you. You know where you have to go, so I will not detain you any longer. There are plenty of narrow-boats waiting to make their way up to the levels of the Netherworld at the docks. You will hitch a lift with one of them. Now go, for I have much to do,” the Dark Lord replied and I found myself walking down a long staircase to the floor below.
On my way down I passed the pens where the hounds were kept and saw six of the beasts waiting for me with my brother, stood by the gate into the cage. They were the size of a small horse and as black as the darkest night. He like me had recovered from the effects of the lash without any sign of scars or damage. He looked in age a young man instead of the silver haired middle aged person that I had grown old with. I realised that the years had fallen from my shoulders as well and I too was remade young. We embraced and wept with the joy of reunion.
He too had materialised on the horned god’s table and had been interviewed by him and allotted his place in this very strange realm and told to wait for me. Both of us had trained and run the Pharaoh’s hunting hounds until we had aged too much to be able to keep up with them. At that point we had been re-assigned to hauling the blocks of stone from the quarries to his ever growing tomb. The life-span of those who worked on the great tomb was very short and driven by the fear of the lash. In five long years my brother and I had laboured and grown weaker on the starvation rations that were thrown to the slaves to fight over. Death was a blessed relief to all of us that toiled in the burning sun from dawn to dusk.
I opened the gate and called three of the hounds to my side, while my brother did the same. We set off towards the docks where a narrow-boat was tied up waiting for us to board. Stood at the helm with his hand upon the rudder was a man who exuded a power over the boat that spoke of ages plying his trade. In appearance he was young, but his eyes had the look of a much, much older man who had seen a great deal. He was taller than my brother and I and much broader across the shoulders with blond hair that hung down upon his shoulders.
“Welcome aboard, newcomers. My name is Rotan, You are a part of my journey through the Netherworld until we reach the mountainous regions. There you will disembark and let loose the hounds to seek the souls of the hidden wicked. From time to time you will return to the canal system and unload the captured from the bowels of the hounds to the engine hold of any passing boat.”
We got the hounds into the bow and shut the doors into the front cabin to keep the hounds enclosed. We untied the ropes from the tethering rings and made our way to where the ferryman stood at the tiller. There we exchanged histories and listened in amazement at Rotan’s stories of where he had been and how long he had been in service to the horned god. Finally we emerged at the top lock and entered the immensity of the Netherworld.
The sun rose and set many times until we reached a wild and broken area where mountains reached into the sky and sheer gorges allowed the canal to wind its way through. We reached a place where a beach of sorts opened out into the canal system leaving a way into the high country through the hills. Somehow we could feel the nearness of hidden souls and released the hounds scrambling off the black narrow boat. We waved to our mentor who was even as we stood on the beach, on his way to find more souls. An excited bugle call from the hounds told us that already we were close to finding our first den of wickedness. We ran after our beasts and soon caught up with them as they began to hunt and sniff out the hidden ones amongst the jagged boulders littering the countryside. Screams of terror zeroed our attention as the hounds closed in for the ‘kill’ while we stood back and watched. Dark coloured souls that smelt of wickedness and sin jumped out of the underbrush trying to escape. As they tried to leap up the sides of the cliffs, the hounds pulled them down and their mouths expanded such that each fleeing soul was engulfed and swallowed.
We had been supplied with long, strong whips that we could use to wrap around the legs of the fleeing souls, bringing them down. The hounds worked with us and drove the fleeing creatures to where we could drop them to the ground. Once down they soon went on a one way journey into the seemingly infinite capacity of the Hell hound’s stomachs. The sun set behind the cliffs and we were in darkness, but the hunt continued throughout the night. We never felt the slightest bit tired as we chased down and hunted those souls that had tried to hide their wickedness from the Lord of Punishment. There was nowhere that the souls of the damned could hide, as the hounds could climb any sheer rock-face as if it had a built in ladder.
There reached a point when we felt it right to return to the canal and wait for a travelling Ferryman and his narrow boat. Now we could rest in the shade and relax and plan our next expedition to go deeper into the wilderness beyond where we had hunted. There was one capture that had filled my brother and I with some joy, as we sat waiting. We had found the overseer that had whipped my brother to his death and that I had given my life to take him to his end. He had recognised us as he tried to climb the cliff-face to escape the hounds. We used the whips upon him and pulled him off the granite slab into the waiting jaws of a Hell-hound. 
We had built a small key-side with mooring stakes while we waited for a boat to come along. It was as if the powers that be had known that we had finished, for around the bend chugged a black as night narrow boat captained by a ferryman. This time a woman! She hauled the drive lever back and we could hear the groans of the souls in the hold as they ran the Ferris wheels backwards to put the boat in reverse. We tied the craft securely to the stakes we had hammered into the ground and the Hounds of hell went to the very stern of the boat and the back opened allowing them to vomit the captive souls into the darkness of the engine room where they were soon allotted a wheel of their own. Here they would earn their redemption as they powered the boat. We were content in our servitude, as one day we knew that we would discover Pharaoh trying to hide from his sins and the Hell Hounds would find him. His after-life would be totally different than the one that he had believed waited for him. Retribution would be ours.

End.
Barry E Woodham.


©2012 Barry Woodham. All rights reserved. Do not use or reproduce without permission.





1 comment:

  1. Awesome, Barry!
    Let me know if you need me to write an ad at the end of this for "Eyes of Prometheus."
    Editing is over 50% and going steady.

    ReplyDelete