It was cold.

The boatman had been waiting at the old pier. He raised his lantern to my face and stuck his (almost skeletal) hand out. I squinted, gave him an old coin and took one long drag before flicking the butt into the dark waters.

"Take me to the other side," I whispered, barely audible.

He nodded, still examining the coin, like it was a rare gem. I could almost hear his neck creak.



"We will reach there when you are 20 years and ⅔ months old," said a hoarse and ghastly voice. "Now, rest."






And it all faded away