I rowed faster. The sun was setting and soon the reflection of the clouds on the river would dissipate and the darkening sky would meld with the blackening river. It would not be safe once the sky and river fused, where the clouds met clouds, and the sun met sun. The duality of the day would be released into singular Moon Shadows and the river was no place to be when the Moon Shadows reared their ugly heads. I rowed faster.
The bridge in the distance held hands with the sky and river, swinging between them like a child between its parents on a walk. More sinister with every passing moment, the bridge in the distance extended its fingers and each claw clung to the darkening sky above and the resistant river below.
I rowed faster. Light was not on my side. The ripples of the clouds reflected in the river giving a sense that in their whiteness, a goodness could see me across. But the river current grew strong with the setting sun and the cumulus clouds fractured into featureless horizontal threads and exposed the night seeping through from above. I rowed faster.
I blinked. It was a moment, but that was all it took. The sun fell behind the bridge and it amalgamated the sky and river. Blackness descended. I was alone on the river. There was no telling where I had started and where I was going. I stopped rowing.
The Moon Shadows would not be long. I pulled the oars out of the river and let them lay longways in the boat, resting against my legs and sat still not daring more than shallow breaths. I would have to wait until sunrise, until the Moon Shadows disappeared. The blackness eased slightly, and in the distance, a faint glow seeped through the stratus clouds. The moon. I crossed my arms as if I could hug away the Moon Shadows. Rising and falling with the flow of the river, I felt the boat shift. Who knew where I would end up?
Could I remain frozen, petrified, in one position all night and avoid the Moon Shadows? Would it be safer to continue rowing to the other side? Mother and Father would surely have said no.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimmer of the moon rising opposite to where the sun had set. This was it. The Moon Shadows would start to ascend. The air was still but river current swelled and the white caps formed catching the glimmer of the moon as they grew.
Everyone knew to beware of the white caps. Everyone knew. Yet, here I was. In between the white caps and the soaring Moon Shadows. Majestic and mesmerising yet malignant. Their deleterious effects well known; I would be lucky to see morning with only hint of madness on my soul.
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The Gold Shoe Writer 