Tangled Webs

by Bibiana Krall

  She dropped her hands and watched as the woman stopped writhing, tilted her head back and looked up.

  Their eyes locked and another tremor raced up her spine.

  Instead of calling back or waving her arms, the human shape began to immediately disintegrate when the gray curve of what had been a woman only seconds before turned into white, sparkling flakes resembling snow.

  The ghostly fog that arrived every morning descended and shrouded the dense forest with magic.

  Mist jettisoned forward like a knife, as it followed the mud flats towards the cliff where she watched with her mouth agape.

  Phantom lines traced the invisible warrens of stone, that lay hidden below the lake.

  Criss-cross, criss-cross.

  A spider web of sorts emerged where the water shallowed and arched towards her from the shiny surface, as if to detain her where she stood.

  Her heart skipped staccato beats and she quickly stepped backward, almost tripping on the tripod and backpack.

  Unused to feeling afraid and this out of control, sweat beaded on her forehead, as she attempted to understand.

  The sun came out from hiding nd blasted the valley with light.

  Murky-red orbs, the size of tangerines, floated above the treetops, as she removed her sunglasses to clean them with the hem of her sweatshirt.

  Just like that, the woman and unearthly vision made of mist were gone.

  Later on, after a second helping of bean soup and garden salad, Seychelle finally flipped off the TV.

  Mom had already wandered off to bed to read the latest novel featured in her book club.

  Supposedly it was a modern take on Dante’s Inferno where the circles of Hell were painted as normal and innocuous things like; couple’s tennis, knitting circles and civic associations.

  The strange afternoon replayed in her mind, as she fluffed throw pillows and tidied up the sofa.

  Curiosity was something she’d kept from childhood, but she hadn’t told anyone about what had happened, as obviously she simply needed more sleep or perhaps a new pair of sunglasses?

  Chiding herself for allowing folklore to encroach on reality. She chucked the remote onto the coffee table with a sigh.

  The light above the stairs was still on and as she was about to flip it off, when an icy breeze filled the landing.

  She shivered as the dampness cut through her thin T-shirt and yoga pants.

  “Dad?” Peering into the darkness pooling below the steps, she felt silly and ridiculous.

  She also felt a tiny bit scared.

  What if her mom truly was seeing ghosts? Why were they here in the first place?

  There was no other noise or movement on the landing and the eerie moment passed quickly.

  Not one to be intimidated, she decided to face her silliness head-on and go downstairs to check out the proofs.

  Remembering with a shiver that the video record button had still been on when she’d heard the mysterious woman weeping.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  Twelve steps down and she was able to crane her neck around the firewall to peer into the gloomy space.

  There weren’t a lot of people around town these days, so the bistro curtains had been left open and the streetlight illuminated an empty two-lane road.

  Flipping on the wall sconces, her shoulders relaxed when it became obvious that she was alone.

  The dark paneling and antler chandeliers cast a warm glow upon the historic photos and masculine memorabilia of past residents.

  Other than the oak four-top she used as a makeshift desk, the remaining tables and chairs were stacked against the wall leading to a galley kitchen.

  The only possible place for anyone to hide was the single bathroom or behind the bar and she shoved the lavatory door open with a bang.

  Thankfully it was empty and she decided that a stiff drink was in order.

  Her camera sat exactly where she’d left it on the table with her backpack, tripod, a Ziploc of deluxe trail mix and her Canuks sweatshirt thrown over a barstool.

  There were plenty of spirits to choose from, as she wasn’t a habitual drinker and they hadn’t gotten around to having an auction to clear things out after lockdown.

  Rummaging around in the liquor bottles, the Balvenie persuaded her to try something new. “Whisky it is.”

  Raising the glass in the air, she took a timid sip and winced at how strong it was. “Whew doggies. Cheers Dad. We miss ya terrible.”

  Feeling weird about talking to an empty room, she let the smooth amber sit on her tongue before she dared to swallow more.

  It was fruity and delicious, with a sturdy burn that loosened up her shoulders almost instantly.

  The SLR still had plenty of battery life and she eased onto the barstool. Setting the crystal tumbler down on the table to page through the digital photos.

  Her eyes were extra tired, so she hooked the camera up to her HD laptop screen and began scrolling again.

  Feeling lazy, she turned on slideshow, delaying the photos enough to take a sip and study each frame.

  Of course, many of the shots were breathtaking. A thousand shades of green. It is a national park after all.

  She waited patiently, expecting that at some point the mystery woman would be there.

  The stranger wasn’t, but the orbs sure were. Hundreds of them floated everywhere. A sundog rode a rainbow behind the highest ridge and blanked out the next few photos.

  “I’ll be dammed.”

  Taking a healthy swig this time, she pondered how this could be?

  The streets were deserted and she stared off into space. How did something feel so real and just disappear?

  Bam!

  Something hard thumped the window from outside and she almost jumped out of her skin.

  A man’s face loomed in closer, as his hot breath made a starburst of moisture on the glass outside. “Yo. What’cha doing in there?”

  “Huh?” Almost knocking her drink off the table in surprise, she caught the tumbler just in time.

  “Geez. Hey Ethan. Hold on a sec.”

  Sliding off the bar stool, she unlocked the front door and let him inside.

  “You scared the heck outta me. Next time would you please knock on the door? You could smash out the window like that. It’s…”

  “Sorry. I texted you like six times and you didn’t answer. I was standing on the sidewalk waiting for you to look down at your phone. If I’m bugging you, I can leave.”

  “No. It’s okay. It’s fine. It was on silent, so my notifications wouldn’t ping every five minutes with cat memes. Was having a drink before bed. Why don’t you hang out and tip one with me? People shouldn’t drink alone. Bad habit. Finishing up some photos.”

  He leaned in to look closer at her laptop, “You’ve always had a thing for that place. I prefer Maligne Lake. Better for cruising, kayaking and stuff.”

  She rolled her eyes. Does everything revert to sex?

  “Stuff” means something different in Jasper than it does in most places. More often than not, it included an embarrassing warning from a ranger to keep your clothes on while hiking out in the woods.

  They had known each other forever and she didn’t mind when he eased behind the bar and helped himself to a double.

  “So, what’s up? Otherwise, I mean.”

  He lifted the glass in a cheer and took a swig, “Was hoping you would come over tonight, scary movie, caramel corn and chill. Got a two-four cooling in the fridge and homemade bison stew in the slow cooker. Smoked paprika is the hot shizzle.”

  She chewed her lip and let it fly, “Can’t you tell I’m in the middle of something?”

  Normally she wasn’t so direct, but it instantly annoyed her that he expected she would just drop everything whenever he asked.

  Ethan was good company and tough to ignore in a lumberjack-selling-expensive-cologne kind of way, but some of us have deadlines to answer to.

  “Wow. Okay.”

  He pushed his b
road shoulders back and set the empty glass down next to hers.

  “Thanks for the drink. Appreciate it. Next time if you don’t answer, I promise not to show up like this.”

  Something in his whiny tone indicated that she’d actually hurt his feelings and she slid off her stool to give him a friendly hug. “Sorry, I. It’s just.”

  She’d meant to say it differently, “I didn’t mean to be such a …” as she moved to lock the front door behind him.

  “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m the rude one. You deserve time to yourself. No explanation needed. Hey. So. What’s that?” He gently pushed her aside and pointed at the computer screen.

  A dark, gray shadow had emerged in the next photo on the automated slideshow.

  And the next, until it was a full-on apparition.

  “No freaking way. Hold up. I can’t believe it.” She inched around him.

  Fiddling with the camera, she finally found the original video.

  Plugging in the cord to connect it to her laptop, she yanked the thumb drive out and hit play.

  At first, the sound was fuzzy and crackled, then the weeping grew louder and filled the speakers.

  Leaning closer, Ethan was intrigued, “That’s creepy as hell. Sounds feral at the end, like a cougar, or not sure? When did you record this?”

  He sounded worried and looked a bit dazed.

  “Today actually.”

  They watched the rest of it together without talking.

  Finally, the camera viewer went black when the video ended.

  “What do you think it was?” His concern felt short-lived when he took the opportunity to embrace her again.

  This time she didn’t say no when he bussed her left eyebrow, her forehead, then crushed her lips and pulled her even closer.

  Damn, he smelled good.

  Say what you want about being friends with benefits, but they had a silent agreement. Most of the time it worked well for both of them.

  A solid five minutes later they came up for air.

  Trying to get back to the present, she answered his question, “Don’t know. I really don’t. I mean we all know the story, but a haunted island? Seriously. That’s local folklore to keep teens away from having shenanigans at the lake.”

  “No. No, it’s not.” He somberly shook his head.

  “What? Don’t tell me you believe it too?”

  “Maybe I do?”

  He grew pensive and serious, “My granddad used to trap fox and mink when it was still legal. Said the island has special mojo, even the animals feel it. He used to talk about hearing bells and the singing lake. Said it was cursed. Tragic or something? Crazy talk… I think not.”

  Ethan brushed his hair back from his forehead with a sheepish grin, “He often told me he heard a woman crying, and loud bells ringing. The nearest church is at least twenty klicks. I have never heard or seen anything like that myself, but he warned me not to camp down there. Said, ‘she will drag your skinny butt under and ring the bells.’ Ha! Keep in mind, this is the same guy who swears he wrestled the Shuswaggi on a fishing trip.”

  “What? How come you never talked about this before?”

  “Never came up, I guess? Pops drank way too much. Rotgut cherry brandy from a still his cronies made at the fish camp. Never thought it was true or anything. He liked to tell campfire stories in exchange for booze and beer.”

  Ethan scratched his five-o’clock shadow and reached for the doorknob. “Better get. Have to drive to Pyramid tomorrow and drop off water samples to a hydrologist working on a project for Health Canada.”

  “Don’t think so buddy. You shouldn’t be driving right now. How ‘bout I set an alarm and you stay over?”

  His neck turned a few shades of crimson, “Nice. That might get awkward. Your mother is kind of old-fashioned.”

  “You’re adorable, but I was not propositioning you. As if. We agreed it was your place or no place, right? Gonna grab a clean sheet and pillow for you. The sofa is nice and comfy. There are brand-new toothbrushes in the top drawer next to the bathroom sink.”

  People said a lot of things about Ethan that were not true, because his family didn’t have the best reputation.

  Some folks can’t seem to forgive and forget.

  It was mostly concerning land squabbles and different value systems about who was responsible for saving what was left of the environment.

  People with opposed ideals have a tendency to clash and create rifts, this situation was no different.

  “Oh. Um. Okay.” He looked relieved, “Thanks for looking out for me. No harm in hoping though…”

  Ethan chuckled and headed upstairs.

  He was a gentleman and had always respected her and her mom. She wouldn’t have let him in otherwise.

  She trusted him and wished that she could get past her other issues about romance, but if it ain’t broken…

  “Really?” Smiling with her hands on her hips, silly excuses were exorcised. The lights were flipped off and she followed close behind him.

  Once again, she leaned forward to deadbolt the door on the landing. A strange vibration raced through her veins.

  This time she left the door locked up behind her. Enough is enough. Screw the bear spray; she needed a can of ghost-be-gone.

  Feeling a million times better now that Ethan was staying here with them, at least for the night.

  The warmth from a sunny autumn day blasted the kitchen window with liquid gold, as she brewed a fresh pot of coffee.

  Ethan was already gone, but the rumpled sheet was folded and the spare pillow was set on the coffee table.

  There was also a note.

  Yo! After Pyramid, gonna hike around Medicine. Wanna come? Maybe we can head over to the island and see if there are any footprints?

  We can’t use the ACMG frequency for civilian stuff, but we can meet up at the picnic area around one o’clock?

  If I don’t show by two… something delayed me and we can talk/hang/chill later. Maybe? Up to you…

  Thanks for looking out for me last night. Slept like the dead, eventually.

  Ur cool. E.

  She wasn’t surprised that he was already gone, but wasn’t sure if she should go for it, mainly because seeing someone every day, regardless of the reason why still felt like a relationship.

  After recovering from a toxic boyfriend a few years ago, she couldn’t handle getting that close to anyone for a while.

  Folding up the note, she decided to drink her coffee and figure it out later.

  Popping some sourdough in the four-slot, she dug out a jar of gooseberry jam from the fridge.

  Trying to pinpoint exactly when strange things began to occur. She realized it’d started at least a few weeks back when the colors began to change.

  Autumn is an important season in the mountains, but it also feels haunted and spooky when crisp leaves tumble down the street or the harvest moon fills the sky with her promise of dark nights ahead.

  “Hey, sweetie.” Her mom shuffled in clutching a book, all wild-haired and bright-eyed.

  They sat down across from each other in the breakfast nook and Seychelle caught up with her social media while Margot thumbed a few more pages and munched on a piece of toast.

  Silence like this between people who are angry with each other can be disturbing and awful, but quiet times with humans who accept you are comforting and familiar, like a favorite sweater.

  “What are you up to today, honey?”

  Her mom was not a helicopter parent by any means and Seychelle smiled. The same, exact question she’d asked her every day since High School.

  Happiness for the little things tugged on the corner of her lip. Remembering a different time when their morning conversations were a scarce five minutes while she relaxed in her car waiting on appointments in the city.

  “I have a pitch with Ez-Travel Mart at six. They are rebranding and trying to get Millennials and Gen-Zs outside and back to nature. Their weekend editor thinks my photographs will
inspire young people to buy the upscale “Glamping” packages and start traveling more again. I was thinking about hiking with Ethan, but haven’t decided yet. You know how it is…I always have something I need to do.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to recall being busy like that. I like him, such a nice young man. We have a problem though and I don’t know how to explain.”

  What is it about life that you can feel safe, content and perfectly right, and then boom. The rug is yanked out and you’re immediately unsure of things again.

  “Are you okay Mom?” Here was the terrible question she didn’t ever want to ask Margot or anyone else. Not because she didn’t care, but because she most definitely did.

  “Who knows?” Margot shrugged.

  Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief, as she smeared a glob of amber-pink jam on a second helping of toast, “It happened again last night.”

  “Huh? What happened?”

  Her mother could stretch this out all day and as much as she loved her, the time it took to get a straight answer might go until well after lunchtime.

  “The young woman. The pretty one.”

  This was tough. Eggshell cracks brought genuine concern and it was important not to let her mom see how deeply troubling this was.

  She had noticed the gradual changes in her mother, but when more evidence arrived in broad daylight like this, the truth felt dire, heavy and suffocating.

  Like something soul sucking was coming and had latched its terrible claws into their lives. It wasn’t going away.

  Unsure if she should keep this fantasy going, she pushed the chair out from the table under the guise of fetching more coffee.

  “Right. Uh-huh. I remember you talking about her before. What did she do this time?”

  Purposely hiding her worry, as she tidied up the counter and refilled the sugar bowl. Her mom mumbled a few things about books, shadows and cheap night-lights.

  It wasn’t until she turned around with her second cup of joe that her mom pointed at the sofa in the adjacent room.

  “She was right over there. Standing over Ethan, it was weird how she watched him. Weeping, and carrying on like she does, but she looked furious. So angry. Frightening, like she would. Like she might... I didn’t know what to do.”