The Leader of Souls

A blinding darkness enveloped Richard as he was flung through the windshield of his car.

He was no stranger to darkness, but this one felt cold. Was he alive? Richard could barely concentrate, different shapes and colours danced before his eyes but he did not have the ability to process them. He lay on the ground, motionless. The sound of water flowing nearby filled his ears, though he could not turn his head to identify the source. A grassy surface pressed up against his back.

Quiet footsteps approached his place of rest. At this point, Richard was caked in his own body. Two gentle arms reached at him, reached through him and picked him up. The man was a distinct point of clarity in Richard's vision. He wore a white robe, accented with brown straps, a petasus sat atop his head. He peered at Richard through sharp, slanted eyes. The man cradled Richard in warm arms as he walked forward.

Peering around the man's silk garment, Richard saw the outline of his body, lying motionless on the ground.

---

Richard's perception sunk onto itself as he sat up. He found himself out in the countryside, to his left a forest, to his right- meadows adorned with patches of grass. Night draped itself over the sky as cicadas sang in the cool breeze. His hands shook violently from the encounter. Collecting himself, Richard stood up. His car was nowhere to be scene. With some difficulty, he stood up, brushing the dirt off of his overcoat. A quick examination found no visible injuries, though Richard's limbs were incredibly sore.

Had he crashed?

If so, he had made it out of the accident very well. The man who carried Richard away was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the roadway. Disoriented, Richard began to wander. As he peered at the sky, two things caught his eye. The moon was absent, so were the stars. It seemed too far from the city for light pollution to affect things here- though this left him no means of navigation.

Richard walked wearily for not long- stumbling on a small wooden shack. A faint light emanated from the inside. Richard knocked on the door weakly. A heavy-set man answered. He wore a dirty tank top, and a thick mane of gray hair clung to his chin. Years of hardship had reduced his gaze to a jaded squint. Richard would recognize his father's face anywhere. The father and son embraced, wrapping their arms around each other.

"It's good to see you again," the man, Nikolai, said.

---

Richard sat across the fire in the middle of Nikolai's shack. A crude bowl full of water, fashioned out of birch, was placed near the fire. "Go on, take a sip." Nikolai gestured towards the bowl. Richard gulped some of the water down.

"How long have you been here?" Richard asked. His father looked down. "I'm not sure anymore. Far too long."