ONE for the betrayal of their own daughter, one for vengeance undeserved, one for leading lambs to the slaughter, one for rumors spun into riot, one for behavior most unbecoming, and the last for their selfish natures.

It was a slow suicide, indeed. The removal of the swords happened as they recounted the sins that had brought them to this point. They did not hold hands or comfort each other in other ways; for they knew they were undeserving of any kindnesses. This particular death in itself was a kindness compared to what else might have been done with them had they remained in town. Stares were lingering, judgmental, and filled with a shared current of wrath. There were no deals to be made or understanding natures to appeal to. In the end, this was the sole remaining sensible solution. A gentle atonement for the most significant of their past transgressions.

The boatman pushed from the shore in a single, sure stroke. His hood hid his face, but it was said the man beneath was a ghost; a collaboration of any soul to wander down a path of self destruction. Many called him “The Shepherd.” It seemed his nature to guide the strays when they reached a desperate tipping point. He did not push, but he did collect those who fell. After a short time he amassed his own flock and took them into himself in one big breath. His figure swirled with gray tones of mist. They were thought to be the souls of those in his collection. Trapped within him, and yet, free by way of escape of their previous existences. Overall, he presented a peaceful image of acceptance, with an awaiting undercurrent of doom.

Now, he guided Mary and Robert on their prolonged journey of penance. The tips of the swords dragged along the rocks in the shallow waters. A muffled scraping sound could be heard over the gentle rippling of the wooden boat’s self-made waves. The swords slowed their progress as intended. It would become easier to move forward with the removal of each sword — like the subsiding sting of removing splinters — with the gradual acceleration of the rising water soothing any lingering pains.

Cowardice conquered Mary and Robert both when the time came to pull the first sword and cast it into the water. Their hands trembled with equal apprehension. It was not so easy a thing to condemn oneself to one’s final cradle, but The Shepherd could not begin the deed in their stead. Robert looked away, ashamed of himself. Mary huffed out a breath in agitated adoption of their fate and pulled the first sword free.

There was a bubbling sound as water began to make its way into the bottom of the wooden boat. The entry was slow and lazy — one of convenience rather than one of purpose. Robert tensed at the first traces of the cool liquid nipping at his toes. Both he and Mary sat with bare feet. They had walked without shoes the entire distance to the shore. Now, a creeping feeling of needles accompanied the water and reminded them of the footwear’s absence.

Mary’s bravery in pulling the first of six swords gave Robert back some of his, and he reached for the second of the two harbored in the peak of the boat. It came out with a quiet splash, as an inch of water had now gathered in the bottom of their vessel. Bubbles floated upwards from the new opening as it, too, allowed water to seep in. Robert let out a breath he had held unknowingly in a loud sigh. A small sense of relief filled him in contradiction to the pending doom. This final task would be easier than either had anticipated. He did not allow himself to smile at the revelation, though. Even if the burden of the end had lessened, he was not to find comfort in it; much like he longed to reach for Mary’s hand so that they might pry the remaining swords free — united — but resisted the temptation. He swallowed down any hope briefly gathered and looked on to the parting waves before looking down to the rising water.

In a give and take, Mary took another turn and pulled the sword next closest to her. It squealed as the blade dug itself free from the wet, expanding wood. Another bubble along with a small uptake in their pace. Bit by bit, The Shepherd’s paddling was made easier with the reduction in drag.

Robert followed suit with the fourth of six swords to see the water level in the boat rise faster, still, now that four of the six holes stood unplugged. He released the handle of the sword so that it fell downward and pierced the water they tread through in near silence. It sunk with haste, down to the depths that the man and woman would soon come to know intimately. For now, the water greeted them by climbing further up the insides of the boat to tease at their ankles and calves.

Two swords remained at the stern of the boat. Mary and Robert both turned inward to look back at the last tethers to the life they left behind in such useless tatters. The Shepherd did not pay heed to their glances in his direction. His hooded figure looked onwards, though no distinguishing features could be made out. He didn’t see Robert and Mary; he saw a duty performed countless times before and another tragic couple to be added to his flock. With a singular vision, he paddled forward.

Robert saw Mary reach for the second last sword, as it was her turn in the give and take rhythm. He touched her arm to stop her before her fingers made contact with the hilt. He did not want to be the one to pull the last sword and seal their fate with certainty. His selfish nature proved true to the end in that regard. Mary understood; despite everything, she was an understanding woman. She allowed him to reach first and pull the fifth of six swords. He let it flop from his hand so it hit the water with a sloppy splash and was swallowed with a great gulp. Another few bubbles from the newly formed opening, another slight uptake in their pace, and another measurable increase of the boat’s internal water level.

The Shepherd steered the boat from atop a small ledge jutting from the stern of the boat. The water was high enough so the hanging hems of his black and gray robes darkened with the wet. It would not be long now.

Robert shifted to face forward again as Mary pulled the last sword from the bottom of the boat. He was unable to watch as she concluded this sad, but necessary deed. His eyes slid closed and he heard the muted slide of the blade from wood as she jerked it free. There, it is done now, it is over for th—

Robert abandoned the thought as he felt a hot swipe of metal cut through the delicate skin of his throat. His front was warmed as his neck opened up and rained down blood upon him. His fingers felt stupidly about the slash. He could not turn his head, so he let it flop to the side in order to cast his betrayed gaze over his wife. She met his eyes without apology, clutching the bloodied sword — the sixth of the six swords — to her breast. She lacked any concern for the blood spreading across the front of her dress.

“A final sin, my love,” she whispered before she pushed Robert out over the side of the boat. Blood dyed the cold water around him red as it overtook his fading body and devoured him whole. His sinking face held its shocked expression for as long as Mary could see it through the surface. A few last pinkish bubbles, stained with the last of his essence, broke the surface with finality.

Mary shifted so that she sat in the middle of the seat previously shared with her late husband. She continued to hold the sword to her breast instead of casting it overboard as had been done with the rest. Up to this point, she had resisted all temptation to turn towards lighter feelings of relief, and had simmered in the expected shame for her — their — prior infractions. Without Robert beside her, she felt less of an obligation to do so. She allowed the contained swell of relief that accompanied her concession to her deeds up to this point to rush through her. The boat sank faster now, diving forward into the water rather than gliding across the skin of the liquid. Mary’s eyes closed of their own accord in a manner similar to the way the corners of her mouth upturned into a smirk without thought. As water conquered over air, she felt a peace in each cool inhale that brought her closer to the end.