Lake of Lost Souls (Part 1/2)

Once upon a time, there was a man who lived high on the hill in its woods. Each day, he would either head to town or cut down the surrounding trees for lumber. His wife was bearing a child of six months old, their second child after their first daughter’s death. She was a kind woman, knowledgeable and attentive. She was careful to protect their baby, who would likely be the last child of their lives.

The couple’s home was near a certain lake. Once, it was called the Lake of Lost Souls. Pure deep water filled its reservoir all year long; its surface was always calm, untouched, save for the occasional flutter of a fallen feather or leaf. Even the clearing around it was quiet. Peaceful, but dark. The treetops seemed to grow closer, hiding the place in shadows. Clouds seemed to float lower than the norm, suffusing the clearing in gloom.

The lake was a small, fresh body of water surrounded by rocks. Due to its strategic location, people had considered using it in the past. Plans to drain the lake, to redirect the course of the water, or to displace the fishes for their own gain had all been formed. But no one ever succeeded.

Those who approached the lake – if they didn’t get lost along the way first – all felt a strong sense of unease. Something’s wrong, people rumored to each other. This place must be haunted. Could someone have died here?

In the end, they figured that the lake did not want to be used, and they left it alone.

One day, however, the man on the hill had no choice but to approach it. Recently, the weather had been harsh; his crops were scarce and dying of thirst; and to travel far for water was too taxing an option. His wife was suffering the ails of pregnancy at home. His best option was to use the water from the lake.

He came with a shoulder yoke and two buckets for water. Sweat gathered on his forehead as he worked carefully to fill them. But it wasn’t from the heat. There was a strange, unnerving coldness that haunted his surroundings. He was afraid; he didn’t know why, but that was the reason for his shaky and clammy hands.

Just then, a voice cut through the air. Startled, the man turned his head – and saw a young girl of around thirteen years old, standing unnaturally still as she watched him.

“What are you doing by my lake?” she demanded. Her voice was sharp, as cold as ice. Her eyes were a midnight shade, matching her shoulder-length black hair, and they pinned him in place.

The man froze. Immediately, his mind screamed at him to be cautious.

She was only half his height. At most, she must only be the same age as his daughter when they lost her. Thirteen or fourteen.

Yet the way she stood – her eyes cold, unyielding, and utterly unblinking – it sent chills down his spine. She seemed inhuman, like more of an angry wraith than a girl.

“I’m sorry,” he called to her. “People have told me to avoid this lake. But my wife is with child, and our crops are scarce. I’d like to use this water to nourish our crops and allow her to bathe. Will that be okay with you?”

Her eyes zeroed on him, black and soulless. Apprehension and puzzlement coursed faster through his veins.

“Are you being honest?” She questioned, and he nodded. When she suddenly began to approach him, twigs snapping beneath her black shoes, he flinched in surprise. But some part of his desperation must’ve shown on his face, because she stopped a few feet away, staring down at his crouching form but not speaking.

The unblinking seconds stretched on. His hand held the bucket of water right above the lake’s surface. “Can you tell me who you are?” He finally asked.

She did not answer.

“Most people, I wouldn’t even allow to get near the lake. But I’ll make an exception for you and your family.” A shadow fell over her face. “For now. Do not take more than you need.”

Then she turned and walked away.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The girl was there the next time he returned for water, and every time after that. He believed it was to monitor him.

“Are you a spirit of the lake?” He asked her once, dipping a bucket into the calm lake. Sometimes, he could not see how she appeared, because entering the clearing was like entering a dream. She would silently appear one moment, then disappear the next. It was like she could teleport whenever he blinked or wasn’t looking.

Just earlier, she’d been sitting on the rocks lining the lake. But then he’d blinked. And now she was on her feet, directly to his left.

He scooped up more water, trying not to feel anxious beneath her stare.

“If not a guardian spirit, then are you a ghost?” The man added. Part of him feared he was crossing a line. But her dark, limpid eyes changed. An answer, though he couldn’t tell if it was a yes or a no. “How did you get here?”

A cloud covered the sky; her pupils fell on him. Her white dress did not stir in the wind.

“I was murdered and tossed into the lake,” she revealed. Her words were blunt, far too cold for a girl as young as her. “That was twenty years ago.”

His hand stuttered. The water rippled around it.

“What? Who?” He asked, stunned. “Has this person been caught?”

“The man who killed me is too powerful to be caught.”

His words lodged in his throat. A sense of unease – not from her, but from sympathy and anger – gnawed at his heart.

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even. “You’re only a child. Who could possibly kill you and escape the law?”

For the first time, the girl looked stunned. Her expression went motionless, blank.

Then her eyes cleared; her lips turned up into a smile. But it was a terrifying smile, even more frightening than if she hadn’t. She smiled widely as if he were fatally, unbelievably naive, and she was an executioner deciding whether to behead him with the truth or to not even bother.

“That’s true,” she said, her voice rising with twisted mockery. “Who can be above the law, indeed?”

There was anger swirling around her again, and he tensed, tearing his gaze away. It was too terrible that he could not hold her gaze.

“I’ve given up on getting justice long ago,” the girl said, less coldly than before, and when he looked back, she was staring off into space, her gaze almost sorrowful. “All I want is to slumber in peace. Forever. In this guarded place. I was having a good rest, too, until you came.”

Are you? Truly at peace? He wanted to ask, but instead, he murmured, “Even so… If you want to, you can tell me who it is.”

“For what purpose?” She replied with contempt.

“Even if it’s just sharing with one person, you may feel lighter. Besides, maybe something can be done.” He said it softly, afraid of breaking the silence. She had the body of a little girl, yet her presence was like an ancient, buried thing. Something coiled with hate beyond his comprehension. It was terrible, yet so tragic.

“Do you remember his face?” He asked, gazing at her with sympathy. She leveled her eyes back on him. Cold and vast, just like the lake’s surface. But she did not respond, and stayed so still that she could’ve been mistaken for a statue or a tree.

He didn’t ask further. Accepting her silence, he filled the buckets and turned to leave.

In the blink of an eye, she was in front of him, staring up with those frighteningly large, devouring eyes. He stopped, startled.

“Why,” she demanded, “Do you want to know?”

A cold wind blew through the clearing. For a moment, he couldn’t respond. Her gaze lightened, but only ever so slightly.

“Because you pity me,” She conjectured calmly, “or because I remind you of your daughter? Whatever the case, forget it all.

“Do you know what happens after a person dies?”

She continued, and in his mind’s eye, he saw a girl throwing a stone into a lake, the rock sinking like a lifeless corpse. “When the heart stops pumping, your blood sinks to the lowest points of your body. Soon, the skin there turns purple and blue. It seems everyone will be bruised, even after death.”

Beneath the illusion, her gaze stayed on him.

“In a way, death itself is an act of sinking. Don’t try to save me, because you can’t,” she finished. “Someone powerless like you should focus on keeping yourself afloat. Don’t interfere with things you can’t handle.”

Struggling to speak over the tightness in his throat, he murmured, as if to argue, “This world cannot be that cruel.”

She fell silent, the shadows in her eyes dimming, coalescing. Returning to its cold, watchful stoicism. And from there, she didn’t bother saying anything else.

/\/\/\/\/\

1) I feel like the pacing's terrible but idk how to fix it X_X