The Lake

The smooth surface of the lake ripples and shifts as the wind blows, distorting the reflection of the full moon. A girl bends to examine her blurred image in its shallow depths, unaffected by its cold temperatures. The water reaches up to her ankles, drenching the hem of her long, white dress. Her hair, golden and tangled, stirs with the gentle breeze.

“You long for escape,” she says softly, directing her words to the boy behind her as she straightens. He starts and drags his eyes away from her.

“How…What…” He frowns. “How did you know I was here?”

“I know many things.” She turns to face him, and he is struck by her face, almost ethereal in its beauty. With pale skin and clear eyes, it seems as though the lake water has washed out the colour. “I see. I listen. You want escape from your family, Liam. You wish for freedom in this word, just like I did.”

He scoffs. “So what, you’re spying on me?”

She gives him a mysterious smile. “Tell me, Liam,” she says, her voice sweet and clear. “Why is the lake so dangerous?”

“My grandmother tells me tales of water spirits,” he answers finally. “Tales of kelpies, of sirens, or mermaids, nixies and selkies, all of whom haunt this very lake.”

There is a short silence, but then she lets out a peal of delighted laughter. As her giggles die away, fire rushes to his face and he looks away, cursing himself silently. This is what he gets for believing stories. “Look, I don’t know–”

“You’re so silly,” the girl says sweetly, baring her sharp teeth in an equally sweet smile. “There is no danger for me. The lake is my home.”

The lake is my home. Her words echo in his mind, and as he looks at her once again, everything begins falling into place. “Alice.”

She stands as still as a statue, her eyes large and unseeing. “What did you say?” she whispers.

His voice comes out low and smooth, taking on a hypnotic quality much like his grandmother’s. “31 years ago, my grandmother’s daughter drowned herself in this very lake…and her name was Alice.”

“You are not my brother,” Alice breathes.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m his son.”

“Then we are more alike than I thought,” the girl says quietly, closing her eyes in thought. They fly open once again, staring straight into his soul. “Both trapped by our families. Both longing for escape. There is only so much we can take, but my father was not one to listen.” Her lip curls with disgust.

“My grandfather disappeared years ago, after you died,” Liam says, his voice just as soft as hers.

She does not answer; instead, she raises her gaze to meet his. He searches her pale eyes, finding nothing but a silent call. It echoes in his mind, and something in her manner beckons him forwards.

Come closer…

He takes slow, hesitating steps towards her, and the moment he touches the water, a shiver runs through her body, and she smiles. In one fluid movement, she extends her hand towards him, inviting him closer. In an agonisingly slow movement, he raises his arm and takes her hand.

Her cold skin shocks him out of the trance, and with a start, he tries to yank his hand away but her grip is like iron. Gently, she pulls him closer and stops his struggles with a cold kiss. In the fleeting moment of cold, searing pain, he freezes, but then her other hand darts out to take his.

They stand in the water, still clutching each other’s hands. Wherever her skin touches his, ice spreads, cold and numbing. It creeps from his hands, his lips, from his feet where they touch the water, all the way to his heart until it is no longer his. She releases one hand, and begins leading him into the water, into the lake’s icy depths with a trail of bubbles and ripples that disappear all too quickly.

Swiftly, the girl wraps her arms around his neck in a death grip and presses her frozen lips to his before pulling him down into the water. He struggles weakly beneath her, limbs heavy with cold and water, but she is too strong, too fierce. He opens his mouth to scream, but her mouth is still on his, and she swallows the desperate cry for help. His lungs ache for air, but she pulls away, letting the lake water fill his body.

The last thing he sees is a cloud of golden hair, swirling in the icy waters.

The old woman watches as the girl leads her grandson into the lake, and she watches as the girl fastens her mouth to his in a breathless kiss. But eventually the girl surfaces alone, ripples spreading throughout the lake surface.

Even from this distance, the old woman knows that the girl is looking at her, looking straight into her soul with her piercing gaze. It is not the first time she has seen her daughter, and it is not her last, though she doesn’t dare visit the lake in fear of her wrath. I have seen far too much.

Once again, the full moon is reflected on the lake’s smooth surface, its silent waters as cold as death.