The Pier

Sam and her husband were exhausted by the time they arrived at the house. It was late in the evening and according to John, they were late. He'd glanced at his watch throughout the trip, which had been the reason for the latest flare-up. Samantha finally having snapped, ‘I know we’re running late John. We can’t change it now. Let’s just enjoy the trip.’ John had huffed, said nothing and looked out the window for the rest of the trip.

She wished she hadn’t volunteered to drive the last hour, but she thought it would be good to give him a break. Maybe he’d appreciate it? Instead, he focused on the timing even more.

Pulling up the narrow driveway, past a tangle of windswept tea trees, the house appeared. Its wooden exterior had weathered and discolored since she’d last seen it. Sam felt a shot of sadness at the sight.

There’d been no upkeep since Thomas had been around. He’d always fixed roof tiles or cleared dead trees, but not long after Sam’s last visit, he'd not been seen.

She stopped the engine.

‘We made it - finally.’ She said in her best cheerful voice. John smiled and looked back toward the trees. The rumble of the ocean sounded as if waves were crashing just beyond the trees. Sam reached for a bag from the rear seat and stepped out of the car. John had gotten out and was looking at the front of the house. Only the lights from the pier across the road gave a faint glow to its grey facade.

‘Are you sure this is the place?’ He said finally. Sam walked over with two bags in each hand and one over her shoulder.

‘Of course, it is. I should know my family’s holiday home.’ She said, shoving one of the heaviest bags into his arms. She walked past him and onto the porch. A coldness swept over her and she looked to her right as if she expected to see someone. There was nothing but clumps of dead trees and bushes surrounding the house. It’s winter she told herself.

‘I don’t think you ever described it.’ John was looking at the upstairs windows, he hadn’t moved from his spot.

Sam was trying to find the lock in the darkness. Her fingers fumbled with the key and she felt a rising anger. She didn’t want to discuss the house with John. It was true she’d not been here since she was a child, but she knew this place even after so many years.

They entered, switching on lights as they walked in. The musty smell of old carpet and furniture was thick in the air and John made a face. Sam ignored him and walked upstairs to the bedroom. She dumped the bags by the foot of the bed and stood silently for a while. Was this a mistake? This was meant to be a holiday to help mend things. Or something like that.

A loud crash made her jump and she ran back downstairs. John was standing among broken glass.

‘The shutters just flung open,’ He said, trying not to step on any glass fragments, ‘and all the glasses fell off the shelf.’

‘It’s the wind. It picks up quite suddenly around here.’ Said Sam. She closed the shutters firmly with both hands. The wind was building up and battering at the side of the house. As if in concert the other shutters creaked and shook with each howl of the wind.

Sam slept lightly that night. At some point in the night, she found herself lying awake for what seemed an eternity. The bedroom was pitch black, something she wasn’t accustomed to. John’s deep breathing was not helping either, so she decided to get a glass of water.

The kitchen was lit by a crack in the shutters, giving a faint blue glow to the objects in the room. She let her eyes get used to the darkness as she walked to the sink. She’d forgotten how much the elements were noticeable in the house. As a kid, she’d felt like the house was always complaining. Her mother joked the house had its own aches and pains. Back then, her friend had slept over during summer breaks – for a week or sometimes longer if her family allowed it. Then, each girl would return to their schools until the following year. Occasionally when storms did come, they would share a bed and keep the desk lamp on all night. She wondered where the family was now. Had they ever returned to the town?

Sam poured water into a glass and felt the same chill come over her. She stood motionless, and let the tap keep running. She wanted to turn around but was scared of what she would see. She kept her gaze straight ahead, waiting, listening to the sounds in the room. It felt like someone was standing behind her. Waiting, and about to say something. Sam reached slowly with her free hand and pushed the mixer tap closed. There was an unnerving silence now. She wanted to turn around, to face whatever or whoever was there. In her mind, a name emerged. A name she had not said out loud for decades. She didn’t want to say it. The thought of it made her lips tremble, but she forced herself to say it.

‘Em… Emily?’

She turned her head part way round, not really wanting to turn around completely and see Emily standing there. At that moment a voice boomed from the dark – ‘Sam!’

Samantha jumped and threw the water from her glass in front of her in self-defense.

It was John. He was at the bottom of the stairs, leaning over the balustrade and staring at her.

‘What the hell are you up to?’ He said, confused by her state of fear.

‘You scared the shit of me!’ Sam said and put the glass on the counter. She grabbed a cloth and began wiping the water on the bench and the floor.‘Why didn’t you say you were standing there all that time?’ She said.

‘You weren’t in bed so I came down here. I called out as soon as I saw you standing there frozen like a statue.’ She didn’t respond and continued wiping in the dark. John paused, he softened his tone, and came over to her. He held her arms to pause her cleaning. It was the first time he’d touched her with such tenderness for a long time. He looked at her. ‘Are you ok hun?’

He embraced her and she shut her eyes. Let herself relax in his arms. The brush of his cheek on hers felt good, his shoulders made her feel safe again.

‘It sounds stupid.’ She said, folding her arms around his back, ‘I thought I saw someone.’

‘An intruder?’

’Not quite. I didn’t actually see them, it was like I knew someone was here. In the room.’ She felt stupid saying it out loud now.

John didn’t say anything. They stood in silence for a while longer then went upstairs to bed.

The next morning they walked along the foreshore. They wore rain jackets, boots, and tightly wrapped scarves. A piercing wind was whipping up the sea. Its color had changed to a deep slate grey and each wave tore at the thin edge of sand. Sam and John walked onto the pier, their heads facing down to shelter from the wind. As they walked onto the boards, they felt a sudden force of the wind hit them, pushing them off balance. Sam hesitated, but John wanted to keep walking to the end of the pier. She stopped when she saw ever-larger waves crashing against the bollards up ahead. The sight of white foam spraying and washing over the grey wooden boards of the pier made her recoil. ‘Let’s go back, John.’ She pleaded.

John relented and began to walk back. Behind him the sea churned. What good would it do to walk to the very end? Sam wondered. As a child, she'd never liked standing at the very tip of this pier. It felt so vulnerable to be surrounded by such wild roiling waves.

She recalled how Emily wanted to stand at the end of the pier all those years ago too.

That night they ate dinner sitting on the green couch in front of the tv. They watched re-runs on the only channel available. Later, Sam was dozing in bed, while John read one of his military books. A noise came from downstairs. Sam sat up, looked at John. Her arms prickled with goosebumps. John had put his book down and tilted his head to one side to work out where the noise was coming from.

‘What was that?’ Sam asked.

‘Could be the wind pushing against the shutters again.’ John said, not convinced by his own statement.

The sound returned. This time clearer and with purpose. It was a scraping sound. Slowly. Deliberately.

It was not the wind. Sam’s mind formed a picture of what it could be. Who it could be.

She stayed silent and listened for it again. John had put the book down and was getting out of bed.

‘What are you doing?’ Sam asked.

‘Going to see what it is of course,’ He was putting on a robe, ‘it could be a feral animal stuck inside.’

He moved quickly through the gap in the door without making a sound. Sam found herself alone in the room. Should she follow him down there? She listened for the creaking of John’s footsteps on the stairs. A second passed and then she heard the tell-tale sounds of him walking down the stairs. Because the stairs were so old and wooden, every inch you stepped on made a sound. No one could ever sneak up on you by walking on those stairs.

And then she thought if she could hear him, so could anyone else downstairs. The thought terrified her. She got up and moved to the doorway and peered out, but it was too dark to see anything. The steps of the staircase weren’t creaking anymore, so she assumed John was downstairs now. She wanted to walk out and follow him but she felt frozen in place. Her mouth was dry. Through the gap in the doorway, she looked into the darkness, expecting the lights to turn on downstairs. What was John doing?

She tried to call out while trying not to make too much noise, ‘John?’ Her voice wavered and sounded odd in the room. She moved further into the hallway, her bare feet touched the cold floorboards. She called his name into the dark of the hallway again.

‘John?’

She waited. Still no answer.

Then a creak came from the bottom of the stairs.

Followed by another creak on the next step. Sam’s heart pumped rapidly and she could feel her ears tingle with fear. She knew this wasn’t John. She wanted to shout out his name. But her voice didn’t come. She wanted him to run up here now. To tell her there was nothing to worry about.

Another creak sounded in the dark.

They were slower than a person’s normal pace.

Sam shut the door trying not to make a sound. She put her ear to the back of the door and gripped the knob with both hands.

The creaking sounds continued. Each step was clear and getting louder as they moved upward. She could feel something was nearing the top of the stairs. Sam moved backward until she hit the dresser behind her. Her fingertips touched the smooth wood surface.

She heard a creak behind the door, then a pause. The doorknob began to turn. Sam’s hands trembled, and from somewhere she could hear herself utter a word. She couldn’t stop herself.

‘Emily? …please...If it’s you. I’m sorry.’

The door opened.

A thin, blond-haired girl stood in the doorway. It was Emily. Nine-year-old Emily just as Samantha remembered her. She wore the powder blue dress from that summer day. The last day Sam ever saw her. But this version of Emily, standing with arms stiffly by her sides, her hair like straw, was something else. Not an innocent little girl. How could she be the same girl? Her stare was dark and cold. Her eyes had a blackness to them that penetrated into Sam’s chest.

The storm that day had made the sea violent beyond anything the locals had seen. A child in that water had no chance, she would’ve been pulled out to sea, the authorities had said. Sam remembered calling her to come back. But Emily wouldn’t. She wanted to win.

Standing at the end of the pier was part of the dare the girls had set for themselves. But soon, scared by the building storm, Sam wanted to go home and left Emily at the pier. She had returned to her bedroom, believing Emily, frightened by the rain and lashing winds would soon follow.

A long and silent hour passed where Sam, sitting on her bedroom rug, distracted herself with a book, waiting for the familiar sound of Emily's footsteps creaking on the stairs. She believed Emily would enter the room, apologize, and they would play as always. It was only when Sam’s mother asked where Emily was, that the reality hit home. There was a long search. Some men in their boats had braved the storm to search at sea. But she was never found.

Now this creature whose appearance was exactly like Emily, was moving into the room. Her limbs were mannequin like, her face frozen in a half-smile that looked bemused and knowing at the same time. Tears began to roll down Sam’s face. They wouldn’t stop and she found herself pleading to the child creature.

‘Please… please go.’ And then without realizing Sam was saying sorry over and over. To the child – to Emily. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’m sorry.’

Emily’s mouth parted slightly. Her eyes fixed on Sam like an animal finding its prey. ‘Why did you leave me?’

The sound of her voice made her revulsed. It wasn’t childlike, and yet the voice was unmistakably Emily’s.

Emily advanced into the room.

Sam had moved further away, she pressed her body against the wall to keep away from Emily. The child stood and her smile widened as she looked up at Samantha.

‘You left me, Samantha.’

Sam saw her opportunity, she ran through the narrow space between Emily and the bed. She made it to the door as the child creature turned to grab her arm. For a brief moment, Sam felt her tiny cold fingers brush against her skin. It felt like brushing against something inert. She ran into the hallway and down the stairs.

In the dark kitchen she fumbled in a drawer and pulled out a knife. She opened the sliding doors and ran outside. Emily’s tiny body in her blue dress had folloed her to the sliding doors. Her movements were like paper unfolding as she walked toward Sam. In the driveway, Sam gripped the handle of the knife tightly and she backed away from the child until she found the path to the main road. Where else could she go from here?

She turned and ran up the narrow path until she was at the main road and foreshore. The same one John and her had walked that day. The waves crashed loudly somewhere in the night. The only light was coming from the lamp post near the pier. She headed there. At this time of year, no one stayed in their holiday homes, but she hoped a car might pass by.

Emily had emerged from the path too and in a moment was in front of Sam again. Despite her fear, Sam found herself walking onto the pier while Emily followed at her strange pace.

‘What do you want from me?’ Sam said, taking small backward steps.

Emily half smiled and titled her head, like a bird listening. ‘You left me here. Do you remember?’

‘I was a child. How could I know.’ Sam said. ‘I’m sorry you fell into the sea and drowned.’

Samantha had taken a few extra steps to put some distance between her and Emily. She was holding the knife in both hands. Her knuckles white. She looked over the railings to see if there was another way out. The only solid thing she could see among the rolling waves were a couple of rocks protruding above the water. White foam ran down their jagged crevices with each crash of a wave. A sliver of light shone from the light pole. Sam caught sight of something among the foam on the largest of the rocks. The body was splayed as it had fallen awkwardly. Broken upon impact. Sam recognized it just the same. It was John.

She gasped, then quickly covered her mouth to silence her scream.

Emily paused when she heard Sam.

‘I was alone and you didn’t want to stay. That’s when he found me.’

Sam was confused by the little girl’s words. She turned to see where Emily was looking and realised a man was standing behind her. It was Thomas the handyman. He was old now. His hair white as snow and his stare was cold and menacing.

Before she could say another word, he grabbed her and pushed her over the railing. Thomas and Emily watched her take her last breath in the violent dark sea.