Tales from The Lake 3

by Tales from The Lake

  By the welcome sign, he removed a fresh jumper and raincoat from the bag and got dressed.

  With the rug-sack slung over his shoulder, Ben limped down the street and started towards the hills, leaving the town of Rathdun in his wake. He’d stick out his thumb once he reached a safe distance, and when a lift came by, he’d move on to a better place.

  He’d stay there until the headache returned, and called him away, once again.

  BIOGRAPHY: Matt Hayward is an Irish author and rock musician. His first collection, Brain Dead Blues, is set for release through Sinister Grin Press in 2017. Matt can be reached at matt@sundancecrow.com

  THE DEEPER I GO THE DEEPER I FEAR

  Natalie Carroll

  I never believed in whimsical tales as a kid. You know the type about mythical creatures lurking in the depths.

  I never experienced real fear either.

  But that all came to an end when my parents decided to go on holiday to the sea, and to my dismay I had to go along.

  The cabin we rented was old, dusty and there were cobwebs everywhere. Walking through the cabin, we left behind our footprints in thick layers of dust. Upon our inspection of the derelict little vacation house, I admit I found something homey about it. Of course, there was no TV, no game console nothing of which my life had been built around. Not even a bar of signal could be obtained. But it seemed familiar somehow.

  I made my way to my chosen room where only a lamp and a bed decorated the space. This was where I wanted to hole up for the duration of the trip, if I had any say in the matter. I didn’t, of course, but at least my parents left me alone that first night of our holiday.

  The following morning, a blaze of streaming gold shined through the cracks in my darkened curtains.

  “Come on Jakey,” my sister said as she jumped up and down. “Get up!” She tugged at my covers

  I groaned at the thought of getting up.

  “Get out of my room.” I mumbled.

  She sauntered off eventually, but by then I knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep.

  I got up, got dressed, and made my way down to the dock where my family already waited on the boat. We set sail, to heaven knows where. Family time, I assume. The sun blazed down, colouring my pale skin red. The wind ran its way through my hair. Fish jumped along the side of the boat, which glided through the ocean waves. We came to a halt; the perfect spot for fishing. My father pulled up a chair on the deck, and cast his line. I suspect he was trying to teach Little Miss Sunshine how to fish.

  “Look, Jakey! Look at the fish,” she said in an excited high-pitched voice.

  As reluctant as I was, I unfolded my arms and rolled my eyes.

  Eventually, I dragged myself over to where she stood pointing at a school of fish. As soon as I peered over the side, however, the fish scattered.

  “Where did all the fishies go?” she asked.

  I leaned over the side, to see if a predator roamed the waters, but I couldn’t see anything of the sort. My father shouted out that he’d caught something. I turned my attention to him, watched him trying to reel in his catch, but he lost his grip and fell backward. I dove for the rod, grabbed the sleek metal before it could disappear into the depths, and tried to reel the fish in myself.

  Whatever had taken the bait was unnaturally strong, a real fighter.

  “Dad, throw me your knife,” I shouted, hoping I could cut the line before the rod was lost.

  He threw me his Swiss army knife, but time had run out. The next thing I knew I was being pulled into the water, rod still in hand. My mother shouted my name, my father tried to grab a hold of me, while my sister just screamed her head off. Salt water obscured my vision, burning my eyes. I didn’t really get a full picture of what I saw below the surface but it was big. The shadow flitted past, heading for the murky depths where no man could follow.

  It moved like a snake, yet bobbed up and down at the same time.

  A frenzy of fear shot down my spine, right to the very marrow.

  But fear mingled with fascination.

  Suspended by the water, I stared after the retreating creature in my spellbound state.

  ***

  I woke in a daze.

  Questions ran through my mind, questions I had no answers to.

  It took me a while to figure out my surroundings, longer than I care to admit. I lay on a hard surface, and wore different clothes.

  Odd, I thought.

  I pushed myself onto my side and surveyed the room. Clinical white walls greeted me. Stainless steel barriers kept me prisoner on the bed; plastic tubes and surgical needles penetrated my body.

  How long have I have I been here? Days? Weeks even?

  My stomach grumbled. It was a sound only a dying whale could make.

  I groaned, reached to the tubes and needles, and ripped them out my flesh.

  An incessant beeping sounded, coming from nowhere and everywhere. A flurry of white–clad women rushed into the room. Nurses, I guessed. Hands suddenly pushed me back against the bed, trying to hold me down. I tried to fight back, but weakness kept me from succeeding.

  A tall man wearing a white coat came into my room.

  “What happened?” I asked, still delirious and fearful.

  “An accident” he said. “You almost drowned.”

  The man went on to tell me how I came to be in the hospital, everything from the moment I fell overboard.

  “When can I go home?” I asked when he finished.

  The man glanced at his charts. “Tonight, if all your tests are clear.”

  Good news, at least.

  He left swiftly thereafter.

  ***

  My mother greeted me with a bone-crushing hug, accompanied by her salty tears and misinterpreted whaling speech when I returned home. My father kept patting me on my shoulder, avoiding eye–contact. My sister, however, bounded around me like a puppy; wanting to know everything she’d missed.

  I excused myself from their presence, saying I was tired. And I was, to be honest, but I just needed to get away from all the attention at that point.

  I couldn’t sleep, though. The bed was uncomfortable, and my skin felt raw against my scratchy polyester sheets. Still, I lay there and watched the world through the window, watched day grow into night. I snuck out when the cabin grew quiet, and eventually found myself walking across the pebble beach within that chilly wind that blew from the sea.

  Suddenly I found myself walking towards the water; closer and closer something out there beckoned me back to the depths. I tried to tell my legs to stop moving, but the message didn’t seem to get through. I felt possessed.

  Step by step the ring line where the water hit my shirt changed, higher and higher. My heart pounded in my chest. I dove towards my watery grave.

  Beneath the surface of the murky waters, the icy water stabbed at my skin, freezing me to my core. However, that feeling soon faded when the cold had become a foreboding kind of numbness. At that point all of my extremities felt swollen, clumsy, stiff and useless, dulling the sensation of touch.

  My heart rate gradually slowed.

  At some point I had come to realise that I was not alone, and whatever lurked in the water was not friendly. I couldn’t do much about it now, seeing as my time was quickly coming to an end. My lungs were burning from disuse already. At any giving moment my life could be shortened.

  Everything around me turned black soon thereafter.

  Death approached.

  ***

  My eyes fluttered open, throat raw and lungs aching. I lay on a hard surface in an unfamiliar cabin. Feeling dizzy I tried to sit up and was met by a shabby-looking man.

  “Wh . . . where am I?” I asked as I tried to look around my surroundings.

  “You’ll be safe here,” said he said.

  My vision was a bit hazy.

  “How did I get here?” I asked.

  “I was out fishing and I caught you instead. Just in time, too.”

  “What do you mean by just i
n time.”

  The man looked concerned as he regarded me. “Do you not know lad?”

  “Know what?”

  “Legends have it that this is the place where the last living kelpie resides,” he said.

  “A kelpie? Is that what those are?” I asked, pointing towards the pieces of paper strewn about a table’s surface nearby. Sketches of unnatural creatures covered the entirety of the pages with words scrawled beside the illustrations.

  “Yes, they are malicious creatures.”

  “What is a kelpie?” I asked.

  “A kelpie . . . well, they are a mystical creatures. Legends describe them as powerful horses that roam the oceans. It is said that they have the strength of a hundred men.”

  “So how would you know what it would look like?” I asked.

  “It would disguise itself as black or white horse. Sometimes it would even shift its shape into disguising itself as a pony. It would be identified by its constantly dripping mane.” The man drew a chair closer and took a seat. “It is said that its skin was silky smooth just like a seal, but it is cold as death when touched.”

  “So what the big deal then?” I asked. “You see them, you run. It’s kind of obvious.”

  “The trick for a kelpie is to look innocent, that’s what makes them so deadly. Sometimes they can transform themselves into a beautiful woman. A watery grave awaits those who fall for their seductions, though. These malicious creatures are masters at creating illusions.”

  “How do you kill them?” I asked.

  “It can only be killed by being shot with a silver bullet.”

  Having played along with this charade long enough. “Firstly, thank you for saving my life. Secondly, no offense, but how do you know kelpies even exist? Like you said, it’s just a legend.”

  “It is real. I saw it with my own eyes, but . . . I got there a little too late,” he said.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “There is a story about five children who came in contact with the creature. They didn’t know what it was, but children being children, decided to pet the creature that had turned itself into a horse. At first, nothing seemed out of place, but when they tried to pull their hands away things quickly took a turn for the worst. Their hands rebounded like elastic, returning to the kelpie’s skin. However, there was one child who didn’t pet the horse that day. So the horse took a step forward towards the boy. The boy stepped back. Again, the horse stepped closer, and the boy retreated. Frustrated, the kelpie leaped towards the boy and revealed its true identity,” the man said.

  “The boy was frozen with fear, giving the kelpie time to devour him whole. The kelpie then dove back into the sea and never returned . . . until now. All that was left of my little boy was his teddy bear, and ever since then I have been seeking revenge.”

  The man stood and walked to a shiny wooden chest situated on the table. He opened the chest, and cradled within the red velvet bedding was a silver gun with swirls patterns on it.

  “Inside of this are five silver pullets,” he said, handing me the revolver.

  Confused and panicking, I asked: “Why are you giving me this?”

  “Chances are it will come back, and you need to be prepared if it happens. As long as you are around it won’t quit trying to lure you to your death.”

  I reluctantly took the gun from him, staring at the unique design.

  “There’s something you should know, though,” he continued, “In order for those around you to survive you must sacrifice yourself.”

  A knock at the door interrupted our strange conversation.

  “I’m coming!” he called over his shoulder, before turning back to me. “You should take that for protection and see if you ever come into contact with the kelpie again.” He gestured to the gun.

  I nodded and hid it in the back of my trousers, covering it with my T-shirt. Only when he was sure the gun wouldn’t peek out did he open the door.

  My mother rushed in and swept me off my feet, squeezing me until I couldn’t breathe. My father however, didn’t even move from the car.

  “Thank you,” my mother said.

  “No problem. The name’s Ethan Blurgerson.” The man held out his hand out to shake hers.

  Pleasantries were exchanged, before we went on our way again. I still couldn’t quite comprehend what had happened when I was pushed into the family car.

  The moment the door closed, all I heard was my father’s voice, lecturing me on how irresponsible I was; how inconsiderate and selfish. I tuned him out and stared out the window.

  It went on and on until we got back to the cabin, and continued even after I’d shut my bedroom door in his face.

  I took the gun from the back of my trousers and studied it as I lay down on the bed. Twisting and turning the weapon, I wondered whether this would be my salvation or downfall. My eyes grew weaker as exhaustion took over. I hid the gun under my pillow, dragged the duvet over me, and closed my eyes.

  Whatever peaceful sleep I might have gotten was interrupted when there was a knock at the window. I tried to ignore it and get back to sleep, but it came again. The tapping grew louder, more desperate.

  I grabbed the gun, climbed out of bed, and headed towards the window. But when I pulled back the curtains there was nothing except a strand of seaweed on the sill.

  I heard it again, a gentle tap-tap-tap that grew more intense. This time, however, the sound came from my little sister’s room. Without thinking, I rushed to my bedroom door, shouting frantically: “We need to get ourselves into the car and drive as far away as possible!”

  “Its two o’clock in the bloody morning! What are you talking about?” My father stumbled out of the main bedroom, clearly annoyed.

  “Come on we have to go,” I shouted.

  My mother suddenly screamed, and my father and I rushed to her aid.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “There’s a horse at my window,” she cried out. “But it seemed . . . wrong. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Whatever you do don’t look at the window,” I said. I rushed to her side of the bed, creating a barrier between her and the window.

  “Dad, take mum to the car. I’ll meet you there.”

  My father nodded.

  I couldn’t stick around with my parents when my little sister was all by herself.

  “Oh my God, Charlotte,” I whispered to myself, before I sprinted to her room. “Charlotte!” I screamed, turning the corner to her room. “Stop,” I shouted, arriving just in time to see her reaching through the open window to pet the horse. “Don’t pet the horse.”

  “Why?” she asked, pulling her hand away from the window.

  “It’s dangerous, come away from there.”

  “No it isn’t.” Charlotte didn’t seem too sure, though.

  The horse, or rather the kelpie in its shifted form, suddenly snatched Charlotte’s collar, and dragged her out of the window.

  There’s nothing in this world that breaks a person more than hearing your little sister scream, I can tell you that much. I run to the window and jump out the window and feel the lush grass turn to gravel underfoot, while I set chase after them.

  “Whatever you do, don’t go into the water with it,” I shouted after them, hoping she heard me, and would heed my warning.

  Somewhere along the way, the kelpie dropped her. I ran up to her side, pulled her behind me and aimed my weapon at the creature who was threatening my family. I went to pull the trigger, to end this thing’s miserably homicidal life once and for all, but the gun locked. It freaking locked!

  My parents arrived a moment later, ignoring my suggestion to wait in the car. Good thing too, it seemed.

  “Take her,” I said, shoving Charlotte towards them—towards safety.

  Seeing as the gun didn’t work, I needed to distract the kelpie another way. I waved and ran in the opposite of my parents. When there was a bit of distance between me and the creature, I picked up some stones and threw them
at it. Piss the kelpie off enough and it’ll forget all about Charlotte . . . I hoped.

  I ran up to a hill, the kelpie following close behind.

  The hill, it turned out, was a cliff that overlooked the ocean. I skid to a stop at the edge, and looked back to see the beast catching up quickly. Seeing me cornered, it took its sweet time to close in. When it was just a few feet away, however, the kelpie revealed its true form by shifting in front of me.

  With a neck like a giraffe, long and thick, and a head shaped like that of a crocodile—almost as leathery as one too. Its mane feathery and glowing. And hazel eyes with purple irises that felt somewhat familiar.

  Instead of seeing innocence in its true form, all I saw was the evil that feasted off of my fear.

  I realised then that I was staring my fate in the face.

  With my heart beating in my throat, I decided not to go down without a fight. Bravery consumed me. It tried to reach me with its giraffe-like neck. Without thinking about the consequences, I jumped onto the kelpie’s neck, twisted and turned it, hoping to either scare it off or downright kill it. Unable to reach me or shake me off, the kelpie rushed towards the edge of the cliff and dove into the sea below. I held on for dear life. It’s all I could do, really.

  The deeper I went the deeper I feared.

  My lungs were collapsing from the pressure of the water. I knew then I had to risk my life to save it from this monster from the deep.

  I swung around just enough to put the gun I still held to its head, and got pinged back into place by its elastic skin.

  My finger twitched into position, and I said a little prayer for good luck—hoping the gun would actually work underwater.

  I pulled the trigger.

  The water rippled as the bullet hit the malicious beast’s head. Its elastic skin lost its hold on me, and the next thing I knew it fell down to the dark depths. Wasting no more time I used all the strength I had left to kick myself back to the surface.

  The work was tiring, the water’s icy fingers working its way to numb my muscles and slow my heartbeat. I didn’t stop kicking, though. I wanted to live.

  Once I broke through the water, I gasped for air, and slowly positioned myself so I could float.