1 The Bank of the River Read Online Free PDF

the middle, but yes, it was there, floating. Staring
down at me.”
    Roy yanked
his hand away from where he was pointing, a look of pain on his face. He rubbed
the hand with his other, wincing.
    “What?”
Steven asked. “Did you feel something?”
    “Yeah, I
think it bit me.”
    Steven
rushed over to his dad, wanting to help but not knowing how. “Are you OK?” he
asked.
    Roy dropped
his arms. “Yeah, I’m just fucking with ya,” he said, and smiled.
    Steven
dropped his head, relieved, but pissed. “Look, I’m trying to —”
    “Lighten up!”
Roy said, and walked out of the room. Steven could hear him going upstairs.
    Between the
ghosts and his father, it was going to be a long night.
    -
    Steven awoke
in a panic, his heart racing. He had just woken from a familiar nightmare he
had experienced several times since moving into the house. In the nightmare he
had fallen into a lake, drowning. He would swim to the surface, but upon
reaching it he would suddenly be five feet deeper and would have to swim to the
surface again. It had gone on and on like this until he thought his lungs would
burst and his arms give out. The dream was filled with despair and
hopelessness; a sense that he would never reach the surface, that there was no point
of trying to survive. He sat up in bed, his senses returning, and sucked in the
bedroom’s air in large gasping breaths. After a moment he started to breathe
normally, and checked the clock on the nightstand: 12:34. He could hear his
father snoring in the bedroom next door.
    He rubbed
his face with his hands. Get a grip, just a nightmare , he thought. Think
about something else and try to go back to sleep. Like you’ve done a hundred
times whenever you’ve had a nightmare.
    The light
from the clock was very dim, but it lit his room just enough to be able to make
out the dresser, some artwork on the walls, and the closet door. Most people
have no idea what their bedrooms look like at night, in the dark, he
thought. Maybe insomniacs, or the crazy, or the haunted. Most people
have their eyes closed once they turn off the light, so they’re not aware of
all the little lights and shadows that exist in a bedroom at night. All the
ones he noticed in his bedroom now seemed new to him, and unnerving.  He had
just resigned himself to sliding back down into bed and giving sleep another
chance when he saw it.
    It was very
faint, in the corner of the room. He strained his eyes, pinching them closed a
little in an attempt to focus.
    A pale,
white face. Barely visible. Small, like a child, about the same height as the
bed. Staring at him.
    A chill went
up his spine. His first reaction was to freeze, an animal instinct to camouflage
himself.
    It knows
I’ve seen it , he
thought.
    He strained
his eyes and instead of pinching them to focus, widened them to let in as much
light as possible. There was no question it was the face of a small boy. It
wasn’t moving or reacting; it just stared at him. He thought he could just make
out all of the facial features – eyes, nose, cheeks, chin – no ears. It was
faint – it looked like a dimly lit painting, and when he stared at it too hard,
it almost seemed to fade out.
    Maybe
it’s a reflection of light from the window, he thought. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve scared
myself with a shadow. He shifted his eyes to the bedroom window, trying to
find something that would account for the image. Maybe I’m still dreaming? he thought. It didn’t feel like he was dreaming, but then, it never does in a
dream. He was afraid to return his eyes to the face, but he forced himself to
do it. It was still there, still staring. It had to be some kind of reflection
that he was misinterpreting.
    Then it
blinked.
    He gasped. Instantly
his curiosity turned to fear. There’s someone in the room, he thought. Why is he just standing there? What is he going to do?
    Steven sat
frozen, staring at the face in the corner. He didn’t dare remove his gaze from
it, in fear