The river

Remember the river, and the city if stone.
The water we breath.
6:05, the time when the portals open, they are small and require water to allow them to grow and be large enough to fit someone to be pulled through to elysium.
Towers, Canals, Homes that follow no logical geometry.
There are canals but to bleed on the great shore, tiny creatures of bone will begin to appear from the sea. Though if not sated they shrink and lie still forever. Their name alluded me.
We remember those past in groups, large or small along the largest canal, named I don't know what, the stones were dark Grey with a faint reflection of green light and the shifting shadows of the sky. The river was of water, blue but with a haze of light and gray, like the ocean after a storm. You sat along the river, some on benches or chairs, some Seated on the lip of the canal. Here were even benches along the wall of the canal, where sitting left you chest deep. This river knew us and we could not drown in it.
There were boats, like gondolas, and they moved swiftly yet quietly.
There was a woman, who plucked me from where I sat in the canal weeping with joy at the realization at what and where I had found.
She told me of how legends of this place bleed into reality but are so often muddled that the truth is lost. But the truth had found me, and I was needed.
Many wore white robes or shifts, I do not remember if I was as well. I assume not as I had managed to stumble my way into this place, moving on some sort of automatic impulse. Like picking up an instrument you had never played before.
I think the mission I was called to was to travel with the woman from world to world, sometimes earth, to rescue the people of elysium who had slipped through the random portals to these other realms as well as those who may have been taken. Hopefully, I mused later, no one with nefarious intent found their way though a portal.

Type

Religious, Other