[ WP ] God of the dead river .

God of the dead river dreams. His dreams are blue, black and green. In them white bubbles stream from the iron depths to the surface and rise, breaking through the silvery foam. Slick, dark weeds tangle at his feet and grow through his hair. Pearls are knotted through his beard. Tiny fish in colours he can not find a name for dart between the webs of his fingers. 
 
 
 God of the dead river swims in his dreams. The river is strong and endless, carrying him forwards towards the sea that calls him like a mother to her child. Beneath his feet the silt is rich and soft. It gives way and between his toes he feels the crawling of a hundred curious creatures, too blind to see the river but in the depths of their hearts they *know* they are home. 
 
 
 God of the dead river knows. In his dreams the current is a pair of arms that cradle him and the cold holds no fear for him. When he wakes he trembles. 
 
 
 God of the dead river is an old man. His lips are cracked and his face is red from the sun. Under the baking heat his skin has begun to peel away from his body: long, white strips that shrivel as he waits for water. The vultures are watching. In his hands there is only dust, and beside him the thousand shells of dead animals glint upwards to the light. The blue of his eyes have faded and the mother sea no longer calls to him, steady as the beat of a drum. 
 
 
 God of the dead river lies in his yellow grave and dreams of blue. 
 
 
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 I love this prompt
