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ad they seen her coming up the path, the two boys would have gathered up their marbles and hastily exited in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for them, their trivial game of marbles had become a heated exchange of raw skill and prepubescent machismo with Jared’s prized aggie was in danger of being knocked out by his opponent’s sure hand. Tommy lined up his shot with all the intensity of a professional sniper. Sweat beaded across his twelve-year-old brow, his focus concentrated on keeping a steady shot.
“Hi, Tommy . . . whatcha you doing?”
Disrupted by Tina’s shrill voice in his ears, Tommy’s thumb flicked the marble wildly off its intended course, bouncing hopelessly out of the circle boundary drawn on the sandy pathway.
“Tough luck, man . . .” Jared laughed as he collected the marbles.
Tommy hit the ground in frustration and glared up at the gleefully oblivious face of the girl smiling down at him.
“Don’t you have some house to haunt?” he barked.
“No.” she answered without a beat. “Can I play?”
The two boys shared a wearied glance and collectively answered, “No!”
“Why not?”
“Cause marbles is a two player game—and you make three!” Tommy fired back at her.
“So what?” she whined. “Besides, I’ve seen you two playing with other boys all the time.”
“That’s a different game,” Jared interjected. “Anyways . . . do you have your own set of marbles?”
“No—can’t I borrow some of yours?”
“You can’t do that!” Tommy grunted. “You need your own marbles or you can’t play—rules are rules!”
The two boys turned their backs on her and proceeded to finish their game.
“You aren’t fair, Tommy Buckner!” Tina squealed.
Tommy ignored her, lining up his next shot.
Tina stumped her feet with a huff and crossed her arms defiantly, but neither boy paid any mind to her childish plea for attention. Then, a devilish grin pursed her lips as the germ of an idea began to form in her mind.
She turned back towards the two boys and started to march, swiftly and deliberately, kicking her legs and swinging her arms forward like a wind-up toy solider. She planted her left foot between them and into the encircled playing field, kicking the marbles away as she trampled past. Tommy and Jared stared horrified as the dust settled revealing their intense contest destroyed. Tina laughed with glee as she continued up the path.
“Why did you do that?” Tommy yelled at her, choking back the tears starting to form in his eyes.
“Why did I do what?” Tina asked knowingly with a smile.
“You know damn well what you did!”
“You weren’t going to let me play, so I needed to walk past,” she answered. “It’s not my fault you are too careless to play in the middle of the pathway.”
“You could have went around! You ruined the game deliberately!” he continued to fume, his voice cracking as his voice elevated with anger. “You are a spiteful bully, Tina Johnston! That’s why no one wants to play with you—who would want to be your friend?”
Tina smirked and lifted her noise in the air.
She turned her back on the pair and continued marching up the sandy pathway towards the woods and giggling at her triumph…
Tina found the clearing just beyond the thick overgrowth of thorns and weeds that stingily clung to the hillside. It was as if the land had consciously placed the bushes there to prevent anyone from accessing the location, to keep the area a secret from the rest of the world.
Below her was a sandy beach, clean and undisturbed. Lacking were the obnoxious teenagers, smoking their funny cigarettes and tossing their empty beer bottles on the sand. Lacking were the haggard families with their whining children, desperately clinging on to the hope of a restful vacation. All that remained was perfect and peaceful.
Beyond that was a massive lake—the water black and calm as though painted on a canvas. The sunlight glistened upon the dark water, sparkling an array of colors—from white to yellow to orange to red—like a magnificent kaleidoscope.
Tina ran down the hill as fast as her young legs could carry her. She stumbled slightly when she reached the sand, but she continued with determination ignoring the burning feeling in her calves. She did not stop until she reached the water, falling down on her knees when she reached the shoreline. The water was just as captivating up close as it was from a distance; despite the water being black and muddy, there was not one ounce of litter or sewage; the lake was clean as it was beautiful.
She lowered her fingertips into the water and retracted them immediately—the water was ice cold to the touch. Tina stared at the water, puzzled; it was the middle of July, with the hot sun beating down, yet the water was near freezing. It was no matter, however; the lake was no less beautiful regardless of its frigid nature.
Tina looked around; there was not another soul to be heard. The lake was eerily silent. No birds singing, no boats whizzing around—no anything to disturb the hushed tranquillity. It was a little odd that such a wondrous place would be completely bereft of activity, as if the lake had not existed until she stepped through the thicket and discovered it. The notion excited her—yes, nothing existed past those weeds until she stepped through them. She had brought life to this desolate spot of land. It was she alone that created it; no one else could lay claim to it.
A pleased smile spread across her face. If it were true that she had discovered the lake, then that would mean that the lake would be hers and hers alone. It would be her secret little “garden”—a place she could runaway to whenever she pleased, and she would share the secret with no one. She would not share it with her parents, or with any of the neighborhood children, and especially not with Tommy Buckner. No—the lake would be only for her.
Although Tina knew that she was alone, she could not brush off the growing sensation inside her stomach that she was not truly alone. She really couldn’t explain it, nor could she explain it to others if she tried, but there was an odd presence occupying the lake. Despite the fact that she could feel it, and was confident that she should not, Tina did not fear it. To the contrary, the presence comforted her. She could not be sure, but she could feel it strongest towards the water—patient and pensive.
She knew it was a silly thought, but it was like the lake was aware of her presence.
“Hello?” Tina whispered. “Is there anyone in there?”
She waited patiently, but received no reply.
“Can you hear me?”
Again, there was no answer.
“I know that there’s someone there,” she assumed with a smile. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to harm you. I’m not even going to tell anyone about you.”
She lowered her hand again, gently petting the surface of the water with her fingers. Although the water was still cold, she did not retract them.
“My name is Tina . . . you don’t have to tell me yours if you don’t want to. I understand what it’s like to be shy. You’re afraid of getting hurt. Is that why you hid yourself here?”
She lifted her head and saw the sun beginning to set off in the distance. Tina sighed—it would be supper soon and she would need to leave.
“You don’t have to worry. I will keep you my secret—I won’t tell anyone living soul about you. I will come and visit you everyday—would you like that? I know I would.”
The water of lake ebbed and flowed against the lip of the land as though purring like a satisfied cat.
Tina smiled.
She sat there by the lake, silent and attentive, until the sky became too dark and it was time to go home.
Tina stared down at her bowl; the corn flakes floating in the milk were now soggy and bloated. She pushed them with her spoon from one side of the bowl to the next—she had no intention of eating them.
“Tina . . . have you been listening to a single word I’ve said?” her mother inquired with the tinge of annoyance.
Tina lifted her head up and smiled. “Yes, Mommy . . .” she lied.
“As I was saying . . . we’ve been living here three months now and all I ever see you do is wander around the neighborhood aimlessly,” she nagged as she cleared the dishes from the breakfast table. “I would think by now that you would have made at least one friend.”
“I’ve tried, but I don’t like any of the kids here . . .” Tina replied, burying her head back into her bowl.
“Well, what’s wrong with the kids around here?”
“I don’t know . . .” Tina mumbled. “They’re all stupid.”
“Maybe that’s your problem right there . . .” her father interjected from behind his newspaper. “Perhaps if you treated the kids around here with a little more kindness, maybe they would want to play with you.”
“I don’t want to play with them anyways . . .”
“What about that Tommy Buckner up the street? He seems like a nice boy,” her mother noted.
“Tommy Buckner!” Tina gagged. “He smells and he’s mean. All he wants to do is play with his marbles all day . . . he doesn’t want to play with me. He’s like everyone else—fart face!”
“Dammit, Tina—now watch your language!” her father snapped, dropping the paper from his face and staring at her. “Just because something doesn’t go your way doesn’t make it stupid and no amount of name-calling helps. It’s the same old story with you . . . it’s everybody else’s fault except yours. We had the same problem back in Spotswood . . .”
“Now, Paul . . . lets not go into this now . . .” her mother sighed.
“No . . . No . . .” her father continued. “This is exactly what she needs to hear. Tina . . . your eleven years old and pretty soon you’re going to be twelve, yet you still act and carry on like a three year old. You have no respect for authority or your elders. When you don’t get your way, you throw a tantrum. You consistently do the wrong things over and over—and when you get caught, its everybody’s fault except for yours. Are you listening to me?”
“Yes . . .” she could hear his words, but she had become very adapt at ignoring them.
“You need to get your act together young lady or it’s going to be too late. I don’t know what else your mother and I can do for you. You can’t get people to like you by bullying them. I bumped into Mr. Buckner at the market yesterday and he said his son told him that you purposely disrupted a game Tommy and a friend were playing by trampling all over it.”
Tina held her hand to her mouth, desperately trying not to laugh but it was still very funny.
“Now, how do you expect to go through life acting like that?” her father asked. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
“Yes . . .” she answered listlessly. “Can I go outside now?”
Her father lowered his head with a sigh, defeated.
“Yes you can.” Her mother whispered.
Tina leaped from her seat and skipped out of the house and towards the direction of the woods . . . and the lake.
For a week, Tina returned to the lake. Sometimes she would talk to the lake, sharing with it her most imitate thoughts and secrets. Other times she would simply sit on the sand and stare out onto the dark water and absorb the silent solitude of her “secret garden”. One time, she had ventured to survey the circumference of the lake; however, the thorn beds surrounding the farther reaches were much too thick to trek so she quickly abandoned her expedition.
But it was no matter.
Tina was content to sit on the warm sand and stare out at the glistening water. If she had her way, Tina would never leave her secret place. At the lake there was no parents breathing down her neck, trying to enforce their stupid rules and to yell at her for no reason. There was no one to disturb the peace and quiet, to judge her and conspire against her when her back was turned. Here was only warmth and solitude—though she was completely alone, there was no loneliness. No isolation or fear of being ostracized—that only happened on the outside. Only cruel and petty creatures populated outside her precious lake.
Inside, it was just Tina and the lake—and the lake did not judge her. It could not judge her.
“Can you feel?” Tina asked the water reflectively. “I mean . . . I know you’re just a lake, but you do exist. I exist and I can feel. I guess no one ever asked you that, huh? Most people probably just see you as nothing more than dirty brown water—but I can see much more than that. I know your secret . . . you can’t fool me. The others are stupid, they only see with their eyes. I can see beyond that and to what you truly are.”
Tina lay next to the lake, resting her head against the warm sand and dangling her fingertips in the water.
“Can you feel me when I touch you? If you can’t than you are lucky. If you could feel, than you could feel pain, too. I can feel and I can feel pain—all the time. It’s no fun, believe me. I would give anything to be like you and not feel anything.”
Her eyes wandered, scrutinizing the land that surrounded the lake. A dense gathering of trees surrounded the area, but something odd about them caught her attention. She had seen them before, but only now did she recognize it. All the trees surrounding the lake had no leaves or any type of foliage while the trees further back had beautifully green leaves and blooming flowers. She thought it strange that so many trees would not grow leaves in the middle of the summer, but then another thought crept into her brain.
She leapt up with excitement.
“Of course—why didn’t I think of it before?” she squealed. “You and I . . . we are more like each other than we are different. That’s why I came here; I didn’t find you by accident—I was led here. You led me here, didn’t you? You needed someone . . . someone like me who would understand you. People have shunned you—just as they have me! They consider you nothing more than dirty brown water not fit to swim in. They’ve cast you aside and forgotten about you. They let you become overgrown and unloved. Not even the trees show you any affection, tarnishing your beauty with naked and scrawny branches.
“Do you know what that makes us? It makes us . . . like . . . soul mates. It was like we were cut from the same cloth. No . . . it was no accident that I found you. It was like fate—I needed to find you like you needed me to find you—don’t you see?. We need each other. We need each other to listen and understand. I understand you . . . I hope you understand me. Of course, you understand me—you’re my soul mate. Everybody has a second half that completes them . . . and we complete each other.”
Tina looked down and saw her reflection in the dark water. It was a comforting sight for her eyes to see her image juxtaposed with the lake’s surface. It was as if that image was meant to be—separately they did not belong or make sense in this world, but together they created a completed being. For the first time, Tina felt as though she truly belonged someplace.
Suddenly, another image reflected upon the dark water. It was a wrinkled and distorted countenance, one that to Tina was unfamiliar with. Before she could run, the stranger grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her around to face him. Tina could now ascertain that the wrinkled visage belong to an old man with leathery skin covered with liver spots and a large misshapen nose squashed in the center of his ripen face like an overgrown gourd. Although old and frail in statue, the old man held on to her shoulder with a mighty grip, immobilizing her.
“What are you doing here?” he spoke with a bloated voice.
Tina recoiled—she could smell the cheap whiskey fresh on his breath almost making her want to vomit. She continued to struggle to break free from the old man’s grip.
“You’re not supposed to be here—no one is allowed to be back here!” A veil of recognition fell over the old man’s eyes. “Hey . . . I know you!”
“Let me go!”
“Yeah . . . you’re with that new family that just moved in a few months back—you’re the little girl I’ve seen prancing about the neighborhood like some entitled princess. This is no place for a little girl.”
“You let me go or I will scream . . . you pervert!”
The old man’s grip weakened and Tina wiggled loose, running up the hill as fast as she could. The old man did not follow her on foot; he simply followed her with his eyes.
“You stay away from here, you hear?” the old man cried out to her.
He turned his eyes towards the lake and a shiver ran through his old bones. It was not a shiver that came from a brisk wind or chill in the air, but a shiver that could only be brought on by fear.
Tina crept down the stairs as silently as she could.
It was well past her bedtime and she knew that there would be hell to pay if her folks found her out of bed, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her yet again. It was not unusual to hear her parents’ voices at such a late hour, but to hear a third voice was exceptional.
She could see the soft glow of the parlor light seeping into the foyer. She sat upon the second to last step unbeknownst, and nestled her head between two of the rail posts. From this distance she could see the figure of a strange man sitting in a chair nearest to the door. It was that creepy old man that she had encountered earlier at the lake—he had come to tattle on her! A swelling rage filled her stomach, but she sat silently nonetheless not wishing to be discovered.
“I must apologize for bothering you tonight, Mr. Johnston . . .” the old man spoke. “But, I think it necessary to speak about your daughter.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Mr. Holcome . . .” she heard her father reply. “I have a feeling that we will be owing you an apology soon enough.”
“Dear God, what trouble has Tina managed to get into now?” her mother expressed wearily.
“No, no, no . . . it isn’t anything like that!” Mr. Holcome chuckled. “It is not what your daughter has done, rather what I fear she may do.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand . . .” said her father.
“I stumbled upon your daughter milling about at Duhernal Lake today,” the old man confessed gravely. “When I found her she was staring out onto the water.”
“If I told that child once I told her a hundred times to not trespass,” her father groaned. “I hope she didn’t destroy any of your property?”
“Duhernal Lake is not my property, nor would I ever consider owing it . . .” the old man retorted. “Your daughter did not trespass and the lake is open to the public, should they consider it.”
“But if it is open to the public, then what exactly did she do that was wrong?” her mother asked.
“It isn’t your daughter that I have any grievances with, Mrs. Johnston—it is that lake!”
For a moment there was a tense silence from the parlor. Tina could sense her parent’s confusion from all the way out on the steps. Tina could see Mr. Holcome nervously squirming in his seat; he could sense it as well.
“Duhernal Lake is a dangerous place—for anyone, let alone an eleven year old girl,” his voice was calm and calculated as not to disturb them unnecessarily. “I can not say what it is, perhaps it is nothing at all . . . but there is something about that water, something bad. No living thing dares set foot around the shoreline—no squirrels burrowing for acorns, no deer drinking from its water, no birds singing or flying overheard. Not even the trees lining the water seem alive—their branches naked and sickly. It has a way of influencing how a person thinks inside his or hers head.
“The lake was not always bad. In fact, at one time Duhernal Lake was quite the popular summer vacation spot. People would come from miles around to spend the long hot summer days basking on the sandy beach or to swim in the cool water. To this very day there are reminisces of what the lake once was in its heyday. There still is the old paved road way leading to the entrance—now a little worse for wear, but still drive-able. There is still the cement foundation of the concession stand where you could get a hotdog and a soda-pop for fifty cents! I have many a fond childhood memory of that lake, before…
“Then one summer, something about the lake had changed. No one could rightly wrap their minds around exactly what it was, but the old lake just wasn’t as inviting as it was before. That didn’t stop the tourists from piling in anyways and, at first, it seemed that the lake’s uninviting tone was just local superstition. But before long, the first drowning had occurred—a city boy from up north. Terrible tragedy . . . to this day, no one is certain what happened. The boy’s mother protested that he was an excellent swimmer and the water’s current never produced a strong undertow. He simply drowned inexplicably.
“Over that summer there would be six more drownings . . . all unexplainable and all seemingly accidental. For all appearances, it appeared that seven perfectly healthy individuals had succumbed to the calm and serene water. By summer’s end, no local folks dared step foot in that water.
“It would take another summer’s worth of tragedies—nine in total—before the authorities shut down the lake for public recreation, yet the lake was still open to visit should anyone wish to make the hike. Unfortunately, this alone did not stop the tragedies from occurring. It was almost as if the lake could will people to it.”
“Forgive us for seeming skeptical, Mr. Holcome . . .” her father finally interrupted, But are you asking us to believe that this lake is somehow alive?”
“Living or not, I can not say . . . but there is undeniably a presence in the water, almost as though it possessed the ability for clear and rational thought!
“The water from Duhernal can be traced back to Alius Creek which runs freely about five miles north. There is a small branch that stems from the creek and drains out into the lake. Those indigenous to these parts know and fear Alius Creek and its rough and unpredictable waters. At the slightest touch of rain, the creek waters become alive and overflow its banks, flooding nearby towns and farms with destructive force. Yes . . . there are many tales whispered among those that had lived near its haunted waters and have survived its terrible wrath.
“Some have dated the lake’s terrible history back to one such flood that occurred during an exceptional down pour. There is an old graveyard that resides on the banks that connect Duhernal and Alius. The turbulent waters flooded out the old graveyard, eroding much of the land closest to the bank and taking with it several caskets and headstones. Many believe that the rotted corpses of those that were swept away now rest at the bottom of that lake . . . hungry for life!”
“Mr. Holcome, I like a good ghost story as much as the next person, but---”
“I saw my best friend drown in that water, Mr. Johnston!” the old man raised his voice with determination. “With my own I eyes I watched him, helplessly from the beach. I saw him struggle against the seemingly calm surf as though he were being pulled from underneath! I was but a child at the time; I was petrified with fear. All I could do was watch him drown. When they dragged his body from the lake, the onlookers recoiled in disgusted. He did not look like a boy that had died from drowning—he looked as if the life had been sucked out of him like a straw with a juice carton. When I returned today and saw your daughter, I could have sworn that the water recognized my presence . . . as if it had been waiting for me to return . . .”
“If it is all the same, Mr. Holcome, we appreciate your visit . . .” her father explained. “But, this story of yours is a little hard to swallow.”
“I don’t ask that you believe me . . .” the old man pleaded. “I only ask that you insist upon your daughter never to return to the lake. If you care about your daughter’s well being, you would heed my warning.
“You must promise that she never return!” Mr. Holcome cried desperately. “You must promise me!”
“Very well . . .” her father finally spoke. “We promise that our daughter will not return to the lake.”
Tina watched as the old man sighed with relief.
She could hear as all three rose from their seats and began to walk towards the parlor door. Swiftly, Tina ran up the steps and leapt into bed, burying herself within her sheets and pretending to be asleep. From downstairs she heard her parents showing the old man to the front door and locking it behind him.
Her heart raced with excitement. She squeezed her eyes shut desperately praying for sleep and the new day to arrive.
When she sensed that her parents were no longer watching on her, Tina sprinted to the woods. She found the stream Mr. Holcome had described and followed it north towards Alius Creek and the old graveyard.
That morning her parents had decreed she would no longer be allowed to wander the woods unattended, and certainly not anywhere near the lake, but Tina had other ideas. She smiled and agreed with them, promising not to go the lake in question, but had no attention in following their wishes. She was nearly twelve years old and soon she would become a young woman—it was time to put aside childish obeisance and take a hold of her independence.
Had she not been looking for it, Tina may never have noticed the tiny graveyard. It was clear that it had suffered through many years of neglect—perhaps, a hundred years even. The grass was wildly overgrown, with weeds and rotted trees stumps scattered about the tiny plot of land. All the headstones were cracked and tarnished, the words on the faces illegible and weathered away by the winds of time.
Tina turned back towards the water and could see the spot that Mr. Holcome had described. Where the stream bank met with the graveyard, the earth appeared to have been eroded into the water. A couple of stubborn headstones still clung to the loose soil and hung precociously over the edge. Climbing down into the water, Tina found a few planks of rotted coffin protruding out of tide.
It was just as Mr. Holcome had said it would be—the corpses washed off into the raging floodwaters.
Tina smiled.
“I know what you are.”
The lake did not respond—it didn’t have to; Tina’s suspicions had been confirmed at the graveyard.
“It’s all right . . .” she whispered. “ I won’t tell anyone. I tell you my secrets and I will keep yours.”
Tina knelt by the black water. She could see her reflection again in the lake—and nothing else. She peeked behind her shoulder to make sure that strange old man had not seen her and followed her here.
At the moment, he hadn’t.
“I can see now that we are more unlike than you might think,” she said, turning her attention back to the water. “We are both misunderstood. We have no friends—besides each other. I know. I overheard Mr. Holcome speaking with my parents last night. He spoke very mean about you. I heard him say how they shut you down and locked you away from the rest of the world. They wished that you would go away and die—just like my parents’ wish I would disappear. Oh, they say that they love me, but I know the truth! They are embarrassed of me . . . I see it in their eyes. They wish I would just fade away, but we will show them, won’t we?”
She dipped her fingertips in the water. Somehow it felt differently this time. Sure, it was just as cold as it ever was, but there was a strange electric sensation prickling upon her skin. It was an impression of yearning—a desire to be touch. It was strong and growing stronger each passing moment. It was as though the water hungered for her.
Then the thought hit here—of course!
She looked up at the land surrounding the lake and to the dead vegetation. Then she thought about her friends that resided at the bottom of the black water. Corpses unfairly ripped at out their final resting-place and forever imprisoned in a purgatorial state at the depth’s muddy bed.
Dead—but not resting. Dead—but still conscious of their plight. Dead—but longing to be close to the living; close to what they once were and so desperately aspiring to be again.
“That’s it!” she uttered excitedly. “You want to touch life again! That’s why the trees surrounding you are dying. You’re hungry for life. You want to feed! You need to feed. The cold of the water is gnawing on your bones—you need to touch the warmth of life to stop the pain.”
Tina leapt to her feet and looked down determinedly at the water. She knew what she had to do. She would do anything to help her new friends—her only friends.
She lowered one foot into the water and winced at the cold biting at her tender flesh, but she did not remove it. Within a few moments, the stinging cold subsided and she placed her other foot down. It didn’t take long for both feet were used to the cold and she slowly proceeded farther into the lake.
Tina could feel the water beginning to stir; it pleased her—the thought that the water actually knew she was inside of it. She felt another sensation in the water; the tickle of invisible fingers running across her ankles. She could feel them drawing her closer like a tugging undertow, even though there was no current. It was her friends pulling her closer to them; they wanted her closer to them. They wanted to touch her life force.
Suddenly, Tina froze in her tracks.
Resisting the beckoning of her friends, Tina released her legs from their grip and rushed back to the shore. She jumped back onto the beach, her heart racing with excited. Or maybe it was fear—she could not be sure.
She looked back at the lake and could sense the frustration on the water’s surface.
“I know . . . I know that you are hungry,” she whispered reassuringly. “But don’t worry—I will feed you . . .”
Tina found her sacrifice just a few hundred yards past the hillside.
At the bottom of the incline was a secluded picnic area—there, the Buckner family was enjoying a fine August afternoon. Mrs. Buckner was setting out lunch, while Mr. Buckner tossed the old pigskin with his son, Tommy.
Tina approached the two, skipping gleefully innocent. Tommy saw her coming and rolled his eyes in disgust.
“Hi, Tommy . . .” she greeted. “Oh, hello Mr. Buckner.”
“Hi, there Tina,” Tommy’s father answered tolerably. “What brings you all the way out here by yourself?”
“Oh, nothing, really . . . just walking through the woods. I like the woods—very nature-ly.”
“Then why don’t you just keep on walking?” Tommy spat as he tossed the football back to his father.
“Tommy—don’t be rude to your friend,” his mother nagged from behind the picnic table.
“She’s not my friend!”
Frustrated, Tommy stomped his feet at his mother, taking his eye off the football careening towards him. Before he could react, the football soared over his head. With a grunt, Tommy chased the ball down.
“Actually, Mr. Buckner . . . I was wondering if Tommy could come with me somewhere. I want to show him something I think is really neat.”
“Well, we are about ready to have lunch, Tina . . .” he answered her. “Perhaps some other time.”
“But it has to be now!” she pleaded. “I’m afraid if he doesn’t come now, it may not be there tomorrow.”
“What exactly do you want to show him?”
“I can’t tell you—it’s a surprise. Tommy will really like it.”
“I don’t want to see what you have to show me,” Tommy shouted as he recovered the ball and tossed it in. “Probably some stupid old toad or moldy old rock.”
“Come on, Tommy—it will only take a couple of minutes to see. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
“You know, Tommy . . . it will take a few minutes to set everything up,” his mother interjected. “You should go with Tina so you won’t have to sit here and wait.”
“But mom---”
“No ‘buts’ about it!” his mother said sternly. “It would be nice if you spend some time with your friend . . . and I won’t hear another word about.”
Tina smiled at the poor boy smugly. Tommy looked to his father to appeal, but his old man merely shrugged, defeated.
“It’s right over here!”
She led her prey over the hillside and through the thick brush; the boy was unimpressed by what he saw.
“Is this it?” he grunted, patting the football in his grip. “It’s just some crummy old lake.”
“It’s not just any ordinary lake, silly . . .” she giggled. “Come—I’ll show you.”
She raced down the hill onto the beach; the boy followed behind begrudgingly. She stopped at the edge of the water.
“See—you have to look at it closer,” Tina lowered to her knees. “It won’t look special unless you look directly at it—and stare at it really hard.”
She beckoned Tommy to do as she on all fours and he obliged—his curiously momentarily peaked. He peered down at the water, squinting his eyes determinedly to see the special thing that remained elusive to him..
“I don’t see anything—it’s just swamp water.”
“You have to look closer,” Tina forced his head downward, gripping the back of his neck firmly with her hand.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” he struggled free from her grip and rose to his feet.
“I’m just trying to make you see it.”
“Forget it—I ain’t interested.”
Tommy turned to walk back up the hillside.
He was getting away.
She could feel the frustration growing in the water—she had to think fast.
Instinctively, Tina ran up to Tommy and snatched the football out of his hand. He feebly tried to retrieve the ball, but Tina was much to quick and taunted him back towards the lake.
“Give that back!”
“You’ll just have to come and get it,” she smiled, dangling the ball out towards him.
“I swear, Tina—You’re gonna be sorry.”
Tommy lunged for the ball, but Tina clutched it back before his fingers could grasp it. He fell to the sand with a resounding thud. She looked down at him and laughed. When she was sure that she had his attention again, she threw the ball out into the water as hard as her arm could. The ball skipped a couple of times on the surface like a stone before resting in the middle of the water.
“Why did you do that?”
“It slipped.”
“It didn’t slip!” the boy cried as he rose to his feet. “You know you did that on purpose—now go and get it.”
“Why should I get it?” she replied. “It’s your ball, anyhow . . .”
“You expect me to get my ball back—which you threw—into that filthy and slimy water.”
“What’s the matter?” she taunted with a smile. “Is little Tommy afraid of getting wet.”
“I ain’t afraid!”
“Then, prove it, hotshot—go get the ball!”
Tommy looked out to his ball, floating solitary upon the surface of the black and calm water. A burning lump of apprehension rose in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it down.
“Well? What are you waiting for? A drum roll, or something?”
“I’m going . . . I’m going . . .”
The young boy took off his shoes and socks, setting them neatly aside. He dipped his foot into the water and cringed at the chill. After a few short breaths, he leapt out into the water and swiftly cut his way through the water. Within seconds, he reached where the football resided. He grabbed it and held it defiantly upwards for Tina to see.
Then, it happened. If she weren’t staring at it, Tina would not believe that it was actually happening.
The water surrounding the boy started to come alive—the surf bubbled and foamed with a violent intensity as though no longer a mild and calm lake, but a furious sea during an unforgiving storm.
Tommy froze in place; she could read even from that distance the sheer terror that was now etched upon his countenance.
“Help! Help me!” he cried out to her. “I can’t move—please help!”
Tina did not move a muscle. She watched with keen interest as her friend helped itself upon the young boy desperately clinging to the surface for air. She could not be certain at the time, but afterwards she could have sworn she saw something clinging at Tommy’s shoulder—something black and slimy, not unlike seaweed. But in Tina’s mind’s eye, it resembled something more like a rotting hand.
Fatigued, Tommy could no longer fight against the surf, succumbing and sinking under the water. The lake still swirled and bubbled, but was becoming more placid and satisfied.
Suddenly, a figure raced past her and dove into the water. It was Mr. Buckner. He dove under the water, desperately grasping for his son. After a few moments, he rose back up again—his hands empty and becoming frustrated by the thick dark water.
Undeterred, he dove under again.
He rose up again, but this time the limp body of Tommy was in his grip. He dragged his son on the beach and listened for a heart beat. Tina stood and watched as his father desperately performed CPR until the boy coughed up a mouthful of lake-water—he was going to be all right.
“What the hell was he doing out in the water?” his father yelled at her, but she did not answer him.
Mr. Buckner lifted his son up into his arms and carried him back to the picnic area. The boy looked so small in his father’s massive arms. All Tina could see of Tommy as his father walked away were his little feet—like a rag doll’s dangling out; a long strand of green seaweed still tangled around one ankle.
Tina looked back at her friend. The water was calm again—but she knew the frustration that brewing under the surface. She smiled at it, a vain attempt to appeal to her friend.
“I know . . . I know . . .” she whispered soothingly. “I will think of something . . .”
“What the hell were you thinking?” her father yelled.
Tina sat silently on the sofa watching her father paced back and forth across the hardwood floors of the parlor. It was comical; she tried desperately not to laugh. When her father got angry like this, he resembled one of those shooting ducks at a carnival stand getting bounced around from side to side with BB gun.
“Jim, please control your temper . . .” her mother whispered.
“No—I’m sick of this garbage. I tired of wasting my breath trying to teach this girl something and her intentionally forgetting it and doing as she damn well pleases. Tonight, it is going to stop.”
“This is unfair!” Tina shouted. “Why do I have to be punished for something I didn’t do?”
“I spoke with Tommy’s father—he said that you threw his boy’s football into that lake and then dared him to go in and retrieve it. What was going through your mind?”
“Do you realize how dangerous that lake is, Tina?” her mother added. “It hasn’t been attended to in decades—it overrun with seaweed. No matter how good a swimmer Tommy is, he would have easily gotten tangled up and pulled under.”
“I didn’t know . . .” Tina whinned.
“You were just standing there!” her father spat. “You were just standing there and watching that poor boy drown.”
“Well, what did you expect her to do?” her mother asked.
“She could have gotten help—or done something. Besides that . . . she was given implicit instructions not to go to that lake and that was exactly what she did!”
Her father paced about the room some more, but at a slower gait. Tina could tell that he was starting to calm down—and that could only mean one thing: a decisive punishment.
“For the rest of the summer, you are not allowed to step one foot off of this property—do you hear me young lady?”
“Yes . . . I hear you,” she replied, having no intention of obeying.
“Not that it will matter much anyway . . .” her father concluded. “I spoke with that Holcome fellow earlier and it appears that the town is fed up with all the accidental deaths that keep occurring at that lake. By next week, the entire area will be gated off.”
“They can’t do that!” Tina cried.
“Well, they can and they will—if that’s what it takes to keep you children away from it, then the better off we’ll all be.”
“I’m not going to let you do it! You can’t keep me away! You can’t keep me from my fr—my secret place. I won’t let you! I won’t let you!”
Tina leapt from her seat and ran up the stairs, stomping her feet spitefully up each step. She locked herself in her room and flung herself onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
When the house was silent and dark, Tina climbed out through her bedroom window and slid down the drainage pipe to the ground. Normally, she relished the feel of cool wet night-grass between her toes but now was no time for pleasantries. Tina ran out into the night, running as fast and long as her legs could muster. She didn’t dare look back to her house—she had to keep running, running as though her life depended upon it.
She finally came to rest, falling in front of the lake; her lungs gasping for air and her eyes full of fresh tears. The lake was expecting her—she knew that it would be.
“They don’t want me to see you anymore,” she gasped. “They want to keep us apart! The town is going to build a tall fence with barbwire on top so that no one can get close to you again. They’re going to lock you away forever!
“But, I’m not going to let them! I won’t let them keep us apart. They can try—but they’ll never be able to. No matter what, I’ll always come back. They can build a fence twenty—thirty feet high, I’ll climb anything that they put in my way. They can make the walls out of concrete—I’ll dig a tunnel underneath. They can lock me in a cell with thick iron bars for the rest of my life, but they will never make me forget you!”
Tina gazed out at the silent and calm water. It felt just as she felt, helpless and hopeless.
It was hopeless; she knew that she could talk as big as she liked, but her parents and that crusty old man, Holcome, would win out in the end. She was no match for them.
“I may not be able to visit you—just for a little while. At least, not until all this blows over some,” She tried to comfort her friend, stroking her fingertips upon the cold surface of the water. “Now, I don’t want you to be scared. You will be all alone for a while, but it won’t be for too long—I promise you that. If it makes you feel any better, I’m going be lonely, too. You’re my only friend here . . .”
She could not keep her composure any longer, breaking down in a fit of tears and sobbing. She did not want to be separated from her friend, no matter how short a period of time that might be. She loved her friend, and she would die if she could no longer visit it. If only there was someway . . . someway to not be separated from it. To be together forever without fear of the outside world to disrupt their shared bliss.
But there was a way. Somewhere in the back of her head she could hear a faint and gentle voice whispering to her—speaking the answer.
Tina’s sobs subsided. Regaining her composure, she lifted herself to her feet. She stared out lovingly at her friend. She knew that this was the only way. They would never be separated again.
She removed her sandals. Without fear or apprehension, Tina lowered her right foot into the water. With the sun no longer beating its hot rays down onto the lake, the water was more frigid than ever before. There was no time, however, to get used to the water’s frigid temperature—it was only a matter of time before her parents discovered her flight and figured out where she had escaped to.
Quickly, she plunged her other foot into the near freezing water.
As she walked further into the surf, she could sense her friend’s yearning grow stronger with each step forward. Soon, the water was at her waist, soaking into her nightgown. With fierce determination she lunged forward, swimming out to the center of the lake. She swam until her arms and legs burned. She stopped and looked behind her to the beach; it seemed as though it was miles away. Her feet could no longer touch the bottom.
“It is all right,” she whispered as she waded in the water. “This is the only way. We can be together forever!”
The water surrounding her became electric, tingling her goose-prickled flesh. Beneath her within the icy depths a pale green light glowed, growing with intensity each passing second. Tina was not afraid, although she knew that she otherwise should be. But the light was not threatening—it was warm and comforting.
Something underneath the water reached out to her, grasping at her flailing feet. It wrapped itself around her ankles and slithered up her legs and around her stomach. It was cold and slimy, like seaweed . . . but not seaweed. It secured a firm grip around her and slowly, gently pulled her downward into the water.
It pulled Tina underneath, she could no longer breathe—but she was wasn’t afraid. She held her breath as her body descended deeper and deeper.
At those depths, the water became darker and darker—Tina was no longer able to see her own hand in front of her face. She had never known such blackness, nor realized that it could ever exist. It was like being swallowed up by some black hole, but it was not terrible or frightening—it was just there.
She looked up and could see the light from the moon gradually being swallowed by the darkness. Darkness was now asserting its dominance over the light. The moon was now no more than the size of a marble…
Marbles . . . like that no good Tommy Buckner wouldn’t allow her to play! He’ll be sorry—they all will be sorry!
She had to be twenty feet deep—her head began to throb like it was being crush by massive hands. Her lungs were aching, too. They needed to breathe, desperately, but there was no air down here. She could control her body no longer—reflexively, her mouth opened and gasped for air. Water flooded down her throat and into her lungs. The pain in her chest was indescribable—but it was only a small price. She was willing to let the pain in. Soon, there would be no more pain.
Tina was becoming at one with the darkness. She allowed herself to succumb to it. Soon, there would be no pain or loneliness associated with the harsh light of day.
There would only be numbness and darkness. There would be only she and her friend.
It took several hours of combing the lake’s floor before the authorities discovered Tina’s discolored and bloated body. They estimated that the girl could have only been under the water for a mere few hours, yet the coroner was appalled by the state of decomposition, as though the remains had been rotting at the bottom for over a week! Odder still was the expression on the young girl’s face—the countenance of serenity, like under the spell of some sublime dream.
Hastily the authorities tried to cover up the body, shielding it from the callous and greedy eyes of onlookers, awakened from their beds by siren screaming in the night—but it was too late. The onlookers’ morbid lust were rewarded when the little girl’s mother began screaming and crying; so distraught, that she had to be carried to a car by her husband.
With the sirens fading into the distance and no more of interest to gawk at, the crowd quickly dispersed and returned back to their mundane lives. Only one man remained from their numbers.
Mr. Holcome stared out to the lake with tears welling up in his eyes. He knew that the word would spread throughout the town like a hideous cancer—the lake had claimed another victim and surely not to be its last. He had tried to prevent it, but it had happened anyway. He would have had more success stopping an oncoming locomotive with his bare hands.
For awhile he just stood there—watching the lake’s rippling waters, half expecting it to leap out at him like some bogeyman, but it did nothing. He stayed while the workmen finished erecting the fences; ten feet high with “No Trespassing” signs adorning it’s metal skin.
It was a senseless act. The lake’s will was far too strong to be contained by a few pieces of scrap metal and barbed wire. In time, the fence would prove just as useless as he was. And even after Holcome had rotted away in his inevitable grave and the fences started to rust—the lake would still remain, waiting patiently for the next unfortunate soul to cross its path.
They always do come along after while, Holcome thought to himself—just as a summer always rolls around.
With his anger subsiding into numbness, he began to trudge up the sand. He stopped suddenly as though a debilitating paralysis had suddenly seized his legs. He could feel the lake behind him—he knew that lake’s could not actually see, but he could still feel the lake’s eyes on the back of his neck. It was no doubt mocking him, laughing at his feeble attempts to stop him.
Finally, he mustered up the courage within his old bones and turned his eyes back to the lake.
The water was calm, but pensive. . . . |
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