The Black Lake: Tales of Melancholic Horror (5 page)

***

With her touchscreen cellphone planted on her rosy ear, Marsha said, “We need to talk about it. We
really
need to talk about this.” There was no response, only the rocking chair's croaking and groaning reverberated through the room. Marsha sniffled, then asked, “You're trying to get away from me again, aren't you? You think I'm crazy or something, don't you?”

There was no response. Marsha whimpered as she glanced around the room. Lily slept in the pristine white crib towards the center of the bedroom. Pleasantly snug sunshine poured through the wide window to Marsha's right. From her seat, Marsha could see the hallway and handrail through the wide open door.

As Marsha sobbed, Alan responded, “No, I don't think you're crazy. I think you're stressed out about everything. I think you're giving yourself anxiety by over-thinking everything you
see
and
hear
. You're creating these problems for yourself. That's what I think.”

Marsha shook her head and said, “
I'm not.
I know you think I'm crazy. It's obvious, isn't it? You've never left without saying goodbye before work. Not a single day in seven years, but
today
you vanished.”

“I didn't 'vanish,' I had to go to work. That's all. You're over-thinking that, too.”

Marsha shut her eyes and whispered, “I need you...”

Alan sighed, then responded, “I'm here for you, sweetie. I'll be back at the same time, I promise. We'll talk about everything and anything and I
will
listen to you. I promise, okay? I've got to go, Marsha, take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything.”

Before Marsha could answer, Alan abruptly disconnected from the call. Marsha quietly wept as she slowly stood from her seat, carefully trying to avoid making any loud noises. She trudged towards the crib and watched Lily as she slumbered. Lily glowed with innocence – a child without sin.

Marsha whispered, “What do you want with my daughter?”

Marsha shook her head, then glanced at the stacked children's books. A regular household item of joy metamorphosed into an object of dread without a change in appearance. She shuddered at the mere sight, like if a cold breeze had swept through the room. She inhaled deeply, then lifted the stack of books. She wearily shambled towards the bookshelf on the adjacent wall, returning the thin storybooks to their rightful home.

As she planted her forehead on the cool wall, Marsha whispered, “What's going on with me? What the hell...”

Her self-talk was abruptly disrupted. A barrage of prancing footsteps reverberated into the room from the hall. With narrowed eyes, Marsha sauntered towards the opposite end of the room and peered into the hallway. The skipping steps were suddenly accompanied by a melodious hum. The playful steps increased in volume, slowly creeping towards the room.

Marsha nervously scratched her head and whispered, “It's nothing. It's in my mind. It's not real. It can't be real.”

She gasped and her eyes widened as the child from the night prior capered by the bedroom, giggling like if she had played a devious prank. Marsha staggered in reverse as she covered her gaping mouth with her trembling hands.

As she hesitantly trudged forward, Marsha asked, “Who–who are you? Wha–what do you want?”

The child did not respond. Marsha stumbled towards the doorway, then peered to her right. She saw the white sundress and a pale leg as the young girl entered the master bedroom. Marsha croaked and grunted as she struggled to utter a single word. Her legs wobbled as she walked towards her bedroom. A barrage of footsteps echoed, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.

Marsha nervously smiled and said, “I know where you are...”

Marsha stopped as she stepped into the room. The bedroom was icy, she could see her every breath – a striking contradiction to the balmy summer heat. She crossed her arms and shuddered as she slowly turned towards the closet door to the left. The closet door had built-in blinds. She could hear the childish snickering from the cracks on the door.

Marsha knelt down in front of the door and said, “It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. Who are you?”

The child did not respond. From the blinds on the closet door, Marsha could see the young girl in the small storage space. She sat with her knees to her face and her arms crossed. The room's light seeped into the closet through the slits on the blinds, illuminating the child's sorrowful, downcast eyes.

Marsha gazed into the girl's woeful eyes and said, “It's okay. I won't hurt you. I won't get you into any trouble. I promise. I just want to help you. What are... What are you doing in my house, sweetie? What are you looking for?”

The young girl gazed into Marsha's eyes and asked, “Where's my mom?”

Marsha shook her head and said, “I... I don't know, sweetie. You have to tell me. I can call the police. They can help us find your mommy if you want.”

The child shook her head and planted her face on her knees. In a muffled voice, the girl said, “I want my mom. That's all. I just want my mom.” The girl gently whimpered and asked, “Where's... Where's my mom? Why is she hiding from me?”

Marsha's eyes swelled with tears as she felt the girl's pain through her doleful words. She could feel the fear and loneliness in the tone of her cracking voice. Marsha could relate to the apprehension. She felt an inexplicable bond with the child.

Marsha swiped at the tears on her cheeks and said, “It's okay, I'll help you. Don't worry, I can find her...”

The child whispered, “Okay.”

Marsha staggered to her feet, then opened the closet door. She furrowed her brow as she gazed at the empty space on the floor. The young girl had vanished without a trace. Awed and shocked by the mystifying disappearance, Marsha staggered in reverse until she fell onto the bed.

Marsha whispered, “I can... I can help you. Let me help you.”

***

The pungent aroma of coffee wafted through the kitchen, dancing with the refreshing breeze from the open window. The scorching black liquid swirled, creating a dark vortex of caffeine. Marsha's hands trembled as she took a sip of her drink. The white ceramic saucer rattled as Marsha returned the cup with shaky hands. The dazzling sunset pierced through the kitchen window, diminishing with every passing minute.

Alan walked around the corner, loosening the blue tie on his white button-up shirt and wiping the clinging lint from his black trousers. He stopped at the archway upon spotting Marsha's distraught appearance. Alan narrowed his eyes as he slowly stepped into the kitchen, contemplating his next move.

Before Alan could speak, Marsha asked, “Aren't you going to say anything?”

Alan nodded and said, “Yeah, yeah...You don't look so good, sweetie. I told you to call me if anything was wrong.”

“Does it matter? Is that really all you have to say? I want to talk about the girl, Alan,
the girl.
I don't care about my appearance right now.”

Alan shrugged and asked, “What girl?”

The chair screeched on the linoleum flooring as Marsha quickly stood up. She glared at Alan with teary, piercing eyes. She was fuming with irrepressible anger. Alan shrugged, oblivious about the situation in hand.

Marsha explained, “The girl I heard on Lily's birthday. The girl I saw standing over Lily's crib. The girl hiding in the closet. That girl, Alan.”

“You saw her again? Where is she?”

“I–I don't know. I saw her, but she... she vanished. I
swear
I saw her Alan. I spoke to her. She sat in the closet and asked me for her mother. By the time I opened the door, the girl vanished into thin air, like some sort of... of magic trick or something,” Marsha explained as her breathing intensified.

“Oh. Are you still talking about
that
girl?” Alan asked. Marsha nodded as she crossed her arms and sobbed. Alan continued, “Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, sweetie, but that girl doesn't exist. There's no one in the house, Marsha. It's just you, me, and Lily. You can't keep doing this. We were getting better. You
know
we were getting better. I don't know what's going on with you, but we can find help if you really need it. I can find you a good doctor.”

Marsha scoffed, “I knew you wouldn't believe me. You never believed me. You think I'm crazy.”

Alan chuckled, then mockingly said, “What do you want me to believe? Huh? There's a ghost in the house? We're being haunted? Is that what you want me to believe? Is that what you want me to tell people?”

“You don't have to tell anyone. This is
our
business, this is
our
family,” Marsha rebutted. As Alan shook his head and trudged away, Marsha followed him up the stairs and said, “We need to help her. We need to find her mother. We... We need to find an exorcist or something.”

Alan stopped at the top of the stairs and sternly said, “
Stop.
I want you to stop this. This is not good for you. It's not good for Lily, either. Just drop it for now, Marsha. I'll call a doctor tomorrow. Try to get some rest.
Please,
try to forget about this.”

Marsha whimpered as Alan strolled into the baby's room. He could hear his soft voice as he coddled Lily in the bedroom. His words and demeanor were stern and dour, but he clearly meant no harm – he simply didn't understand the severity of the situation. Marsha reluctantly dropped the conversation, then strolled into the bedroom.

Minutes turned into hours and light turned into dark. Marsha and Alan rested in bed in their usual nightwear. Alan snored as he shuffled on the mattress. Marsha contemplated as she absently gazed at the ceiling. Her mind wandered away from her body – she could see herself sleeping.

Suddenly, the baby monitor buzzed. Without turning her head, Marsha glided her eyes towards the radio. A soft female voice indistinctly murmured. As she reached to wake Alan, Marsha stopped herself. She didn't want to agitate the situation if she were wrong.

Over the radio, the young girl asked, “Mom? Mom, are you there?”

Marsha whimpered as she slowly stood from the bed. The cool floorboards howled beneath her bare feet as she sauntered towards the hall, then strolled towards Lily's room. She held her hands to her mouth and inhaled deeply as prepared herself for anything. As she turned the corner, her eyes widened.

The young girl stood on a stack of children's books as she watched Lily's nocturnal slumber, unaware of Marsha's presence. Marsha did not cry or yell. From the doorway, she could see the sorrowful apparition was not malevolent.

Marsha walked into the room and gently asked, “Who are you, sweetie? Who's your mother?” The young girl glanced at Marsha, then grimaced as she struggled to respond. Marsha shook her head and said, “Please, don't go. Don't leave again. I don't want to hurt you, sweetie. I want to help you. I think it'll help
me
if I help
you.
Do you understand? I can... I can help you find her. I just need... I need something. A name or... or
something.
Tell me: who is your mother?”

As her eyes swelled with brackish tears, the pale apparition gazed down at her bare feet and responded, “
You.
”

Marsha furrowed her brow as she staggered in reverse. Her breath was stolen with a single word. She tilted her head and bit her bottom lip, awed and baffled by the revelation. Her eyes sparkled as she carefully examined the apparition.

Like if the clouds in her mind were whisked away, Marsha could suddenly see the resemblance. The child had wavy black hair, lustrous brown eyes, and tiny speckles on her cheeks. She resembled a younger Marsha and an older Lily.

Marsha stuttered, “You–You're...” She paused to wipe the tears from her cheeks, then said, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It was an accident. I had no control over it, sweetie.”

The girl gazed down at Lily and whispered, “I know...”

Marsha trudged to the young girl's side as she gently sobbed. She wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulder. She was surprised to find the apparition was tangible. Marsha vigorously rubbed the girl's gelid shoulder, giving her the warmth and reassurance she had sought for so long. The pair happily gazed down at Lily.

As she gently touched Lily's silky hair, the girl asked, “What's my name?”

Marsha's eyes twinkled as if she were reminiscing. She responded, “
Caroline.
Your name was... Your name
is
Caroline, sweetheart.”

Caroline gave off a serene smile as she continued to stroke Lily's hair. She said, “She's very pretty.”

Marsha planted her cheek on Caroline's dome and said, “You know, she'll be as pretty as you someday.”

Caroline's smile dithered as she turned towards her mother. She said, “I don't want to go away...”

Marsha sighed as she gazed into her deceased daughter's sad eyes. She glanced at the doorway and contemplated Alan's inevitable reaction to her discovery. She knew she could never tell him the truth. She knew she would have to keep the secret to protect herself and her family.