It was raining, like all of the tears at all of the funerals in the world. I wouldn’t have minded, but the queue was long. Not that I worried about getting aboard, of course not, but I was miserable waiting.
Finally, I was there. Those in front of me just walked on board when their turn came, but I stopped and looked at the ticket taker. I held out my hand and his eyes sparkled. I dropped the two pennies into his waiting palm. The coins turned to gold. I knew my afterlife would be good.
Always pay the ferryman.
— — — —
Word count = 100
I clicked “Publish on my last story and almost instantly regretted it. I had a new idea, a much better (in my mind) idea. I had to write this. I hope you don’t mind that I double-dipped this week.