After a Moonlight Swim

The moonlight illuminates the water streaming from my skin as my body rises from the lake. Out-of-body experiences let you do impossible, beautiful things. I float above myself in the cold night air. I want to soak in every detail before I wake up.

From above, I am beautiful. My wet hair is silver. My sturdy frame has a grace to its lines that does not show in the mirror. Mom said this would happen when looking at old pictures when I was her age, but here I am now, seeing clearly. I knew this swim would be transformative. My body is strangely still while I float outside of it.

My body is not breathing.

That isn’t right. I try to sink back into my body and pass right through it. A wave of ice shocks me as I make contact. I can see my face now. It is absolutely blank.

My body lurches forward without me. It moves stiffly and clumsily. I follow it back to the cabin.

I watch my body as it starts a fire and wraps itself in a blanket. It must be warming up, but I can’t feel it. After a while, my face starts to move. It contorts itself into a painful frown, then a mocking grimace, before settling on a smile as it stares into the fire.

“Hello, little ghost.” Those are my lips moving. The voice sounds strained, and a little lower than mine.

I recoil. “Get out of my body!”

“And leave your naked corpse sprawled in your living room for your parents to find? That’s not what you want. You’re already dead, little ghost. I couldn’t give your life back if I wanted to.”

“Stop calling me that! My name is Tess!”

“No, I’m Tess now. You’re just a ghost. The light should be showing up for you any minute now. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll follow it.”

“I’m not leaving while some… thing… puppets my body around.”

“You can go properly, when the light comes for you, or wait for a few days until I have enough strength and focus to banish you. You don’t want to be banished. It hurts.”

That is a threat, not compassion.

“What do you want? Are you some kind of demon?”

“That’s not your concern.” The demon gets up slowly and makes its way to my bedroom. I follow it through the door. It puts on my favorite flannel pajamas and returns to the fire.

I have more questions.

Before I can ask them, I am interrupted by a low, melodic humming. Over my shoulder, I see an orb of light. It dances with every color I have ever seen, and colors so new to me that I can’t name them. The light is warm. It is home, now.

With wrenching effort, I turn myself away from the light. I look back at the demon possessing my body. It makes eye contact with me, finally. Its eyes are paler than mine, almost blue where they used to be hazel. People will notice the difference.

“There’s your ride.”

“I’m staying,” I snarl. “Good luck living in a haunted house.”

“You’re a brand new ghost. It won’t be much of a haunting.”

Mustering all of my strength, I shove the porcelain clock off the mantelpiece. It shatters at the demon’s feet. The demon rolls my eyes. “I suppose a wound in the fabric of reality does alter the timeline, but destruction isn’t good for your soul. You should stop.”

“I don’t care.”

I make my way to the kitchen, and the light follows me. I hide in the pantry, waiting for the demon to pick up the shards of porcelain and go to bed.

I don’t know how many of my memories the demon has access to. What I do know is that my parents are very religious, especially my mom, who has a priest in the family. They might be tricked by the thing wearing my body, but that is for the best. They will feel protective. If they think there is a malevolent spirit haunting the house, they won’t let that stand.

All I need to do is make sure they get an exorcism.

I work through the night. All of the rot that has abandoned my dead body finds its way into the food, even the cans. I call moths away from the front porch light and into the cereal boxes. Squirming maggots invade the squashes on the counter that I was saving for soup, creating a putrid smell.

The demon wakes up at the crack of dawn. It cracks an egg, and a sulfurous odor fills the kitchen.

It yells, “Was that really necessary?”

I almost tell it that I don’t want a demon breaking bread with my parents, but that seems melodramatic. Besides, if I say too much, I might give away my plans. I look out the window as the demon systematically cleans out the kitchen.

Once it is finished, the demon focuses on making itself presentable. It puts on the pink shirt my mom loves, and it carefully does its makeup to obscure the pallid shade my face has taken on in death. It combs and trims my hair. It isn’t trying to look just like me. It is replicating the version of me that my parents want.

It practices cheerful greetings while I stare at it with more hatred than I have ever felt. When the doorbell rings, it springs into action.

“Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!” The demon hugs my parents.

I will never hug my parents again. I will never feel the warmth of their arms again. I could try to touch them, but the contact would be icy and unreal.

“Oh, honey, you look beautiful!” Mom is delighted by the demon’s cheerful mood.

Dad agrees. “You know, I wasn’t sure about how moving out into the middle of nowhere would work out, but it seems like all of this nature is good for you!”

“It really is!” the demon says. “I’ve been swimming every day that the weather is good. I even went out at night, once!”

“How dare you!” I hiss. My parents don’t hear me, but the curtains shiver in time with my voice.

“Oh, honey, that’s not safe!”

Mom’s concerned voice breaks my heart. I can’t handle her worrying about me being careless with my life, not now. If I go through with this, she will think she is watching me die. She already lost her child. The worst thing that can happen to a parent has happened to her, and she doesn’t know yet.

I could step into the light. I have the power to protect my parents from this grief. If I let the demon keep impersonating me, my family will never need to know that I threw my life away for a midnight swim. The demon is tied down to my life for now, but that won't last forever, and I don't know what it will do to my parents or to the world. It might hurt them worse in the end. I can’t be a coward.

For now, the demon is soothing Mom’s fears. “The moonlight was just so beautiful! I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“You better not!”

Dad wants to do his own worrying. “It smells a little damp in here, Tess. If you have leaks, you have to call your landlord about it.”

“No leaks, Dad, it’s just the air from the lake.”

There are a few spores floating in the air. I can feel them. I call the spores into the walls and push them to multiply. Black mold blooms all along the corners, right before my parents’ eyes.

“What is that?” Dad shouts.

Mom doesn’t say anything, she just makes the sign of the cross.

“That is so strange.” The demon sounds calm. In my mind, I hear it talking. “You’re doing this now? With your poor parents here?”

I don’t answer. I rattle the pipes in the walls.

“How much do you know about the people who rented you this cabin?”

“It’s a vacation rental, Dad. They live here in the summers. The owners take good care of the place. I’m sure once I call them, they’ll send somebody out here to fix it.”

“The mold isn’t the only problem.” Mom says. “This isn’t natural, honey.”

My landlords have a small crucifix hanging in the living room, tucked in among the nautical art. I twist the screw holding it in place loose, and it falls to the ground in confirmation of Mom’s words.

My parents stare at the ground for a moment.

“That’s it. I’m calling Paul.”

“Mom! You don’t have to do that!” The demon is doing its best to sound mildly irritated, but genuine panic creeps through.

Mom is ignoring it to dial the phone.

“Hi, Paul? Can you come help? Dave and I are visiting Tess, and her place is haunted… no, I’m sure it is. It’s not just bumping and banging…”

Mom details the situation on the phone, while Dad assures the demon that Uncle Paul won’t be bothered, he’ll be happy to see me. Dad promises he will take everybody out for lunch. He gives the demon another hug that’s meant for me.

I can almost feel him remembering the nights when my childhood fears kept him up late. Dad can’t shine a light under my bed and make the monster go away this time. He is holding the monster in his arms while I pick at one of the curtains, slowly unravelling it into a pile of thread.

Mom hangs up the phone. “Paul will be here as soon as he can.”

“You know he’s not supposed to do an exorcism without getting permission from the Church,” the demon says.

“It'll be fine. He’s just going to do a blessing.” Mom knows that he will do an exorcism if she asks. His official responsibilities might be to the Church and to his own congregation, but before he was Father Paul, he was Big Brother Paul. Mom can always count on him. I am counting on him, too.

My parents settle themselves on the couch, on either side of the demon. They ask it the usual barrage of questions about work, romantic prospects, and whether I have been eating well. It answers their questions about the daily routine of a small-town journalist distractedly. When the conversation starts to die down, it ducks into the kitchen with an offer to get them drinks.

Before it can flee through the back door, I shove the refrigerator in front of it. It snarls at me and tries to pull the fridge out of the way. Before it succeeds, the front door opens, and in walks Uncle Paul. The demon returns to the living room and pretends to be part of a happy family.

I give them a few more minutes of normalcy. Then I put my hand on Mom’s shoulder and see her shiver. It’s cold, like I thought it would be. I touch Dad too, even though I know he won’t feel the love in the gesture. He won’t know that I am saying goodbye.

I start shattering the windows, one by one. Mom screams in horror and tries to hide behind Dad. Dad tries to gather the demon behind him, too. It stands on its own, openly glaring at me. Uncle Paul picks up on its look, and when he starts praying, he is looking in my direction with hardened and focused eyes.

It hurts.

I can’t stop screaming. It is an inhuman sound, and it stirs the lake into hurricane waves. They start rising higher and higher, splashing against the broken windows that face the lake as my parents cower in terror. They cover their ears against the sound of my screams, which are loud enough to pierce through the barrier between the living and the dead.

The demon looks pale and shell-shocked. It is working.

Uncle Paul flicks holy water around the room. Some of it hits the demon. It falls to its knees and starts to vomit. Clear lake water pours from its mouth. My parents kneel by the demon, trying to help. Mom holds back its hair while Dad pats its back reassuringly. They give the demon the kind of love once reserved for my childhood illnesses. I hate the demon for stealing it even as their love fills my heart, and these discordant emotions give me one last burst of strength.

I reach for the mold again. It is hard to focus, but the message comes across.

sorry not me so sorry already gone I’m so sorry I love you sorry the moon the light I wish

My body collapses. It is empty now. My parents shake my shoulders. Uncle Paul stops his praying to help them try to revive me. I reach for my body, making a final, futile effort to return to them.

I step backwards into the light.