And My Body Turned to Water

There’s something about the water that always draws me back. I don’t know if it’s the sound of the waves as they pour over the rocks along the shore. The back, the forth. The pull, the push. The way the breeze is always just a little bit cooler by the lake. It touches my skin and makes me forget for a moment about the smallness of this town.

The buildings here haven’t been re-painted in decades. There’s one grocery store that's become a sort of social hub. It’s where all the moms go to gossip about any juicy news they can get their hands on. There’s also a bar. It’s literally called “A Bar.” Real original. They’ve even got a neon sign that lights up the whole town at night, with the gentle flicker of a bulb on its last leg. Lucky for me, underage or not, the bartender doesn’t care. Fifteen-year-olds can drink a beer or two here. Apparently, it makes you a man.

The only other “fun” place you’ll find here is a blockbuster (how do these still even exist?) with VHS tapes still intact. Alas, here I am, existing in a town that stretches no further than a couple of football fields. I feel claustrophobic. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just waiting to swallow me whole.

We’ve only been here for a month and already I’m planning my escape. We were perfectly happy in our old house. It was small, but I had THE best room. My parents said we’d only be here for a year, but the moment we got here I could tell THAT was a lie. I’ve seen my parents flip a bunch of homes, but this? This was a project like no other. From the outside, it wasn’t so bad. It was one of those old victorian homes. It was so dark I thought it was black until my first morning there. That’s when I realized it was more of a dark brown color. The walls were all filled with dated floral wallpaper that used to be white, but age has yellowed it. There is a massive chandelier in the main foyer hanging over a wide set of stairs leading to the second floor. We had to strip the rug from the stairs because it was soaked when we got here. I assume someone left the window in the hall at the top of the stairs opened when they moved. I don’t know how the wood made it through.

Upstairs there are two bathrooms and two bedrooms. My bedroom has a window that faces the lake nearby. That’s probably the only thing I actually like about this house. Overall, I feel like we’re in a typical modern-day horror film. Nuclear family moves from the big city to a small American town to renovate a CLEARLY haunted house next to a conveniently picturesque lake. The ghosts haven’t shown up yet, but they WILL. And when they do, I’ll scream “I told you so” as they tear our flesh to pieces. Morbid? Maybe, but I feel like death is something I’m forced to accept in this town. Everyone who grows up here seems to stay here. They live and die in this place. So I guess if it isn’t by some haunted force, it will most definitely be death by boredom.

This morning I’m heading over to the lake. I like to get there just before the sun comes up. Something about beating it to the water gives me an odd sense of accomplishment. I don’t quite know how to put my finger on it, but things feel different today. It was something about the way the fog sat over the water when I looked out the window earlier. The way my milk had curdled when I tried to make a coffee. Maybe it was the silence without the contractors here as early as usual. I couldn’t figure it out. So I left. I walked down our front steps, across the driveway, and down the narrow path to the beach. For the first time, the water is still. No back, no forth. No push, yet somehow, a pull.

I decided to shake off the discomfort in the air and stick to my normal routine. I sat on a log on the edge of the shore where I always do. I started rustling through my bag looking for my headphones when something brought me to a halt. I heard something, sort of like a whisper, sort of like a shout. The letters rolled off the tongue with a slight sting. It was like the lake called to me. I know that sounds insane but, I heard it. It said my name. It was quick but the word cut through the wind and pierced right into my chest. I’d never heard my name spoken in such a tone. Like it knew me better than I knew me. It didn’t even feel like my name after a minute. The lake did not just speak my name, it stole it.

I suddenly found myself running to the water to take it back, and there was my reflection. Its eyes met mine and something in the depth of its glare sent a chill down my back.

I felt nothing but terror. I ran. I knew something wasn’t right. It’s like I knew my own reflection would pull me in.

My house seemed so far away. For the first time since we got here, I was actually excited to get inside of my not-so-haunted house. My mind was suddenly running 100 miles a minute when suddenly I was on the ground. It was the throbbing in my knee that brought me back to focus. How did I trip? What could I have fallen on? Instinctively, I looked back. That’s when I saw it. Through the morning fog, standing on the surface of the lake was a figure. I couldn’t make it out at first, but I didn’t need to. I knew what it was.

I tried to get up, but my knee gave out, and back to the ground I went. I looked back again and this time I could make out its features as it drew nearer. He had dark curly hair, soaked as if he just stepped out of the shower. His skin, a pale white-blue. His face...mine.

His expression was sad as if he had lost something dear to him. He began to cry. He reached out to me, and again I felt that shiver. Still, I shook off the pain my knee was in and I bolted toward my home. I could no longer see him in the fog behind me. I unlocked my door and ran inside. I knew everyone would still be asleep, so I ran to my bedroom as quietly as I could. I knew it would be my only vantage point. I needed to know what I just saw. I needed to know if he was still there.

I got to my room and stretched across my bed. My curtains were dark, and with the sun not yet over the horizon, my room was almost black. I hid and peeked from the corner of my window. I couldn’t see him anywhere. Instead of the still grey lake that stood before me moments ago, there was a high tide, and waves that pushed on as if hungry for something. Then I heard it. It was faint at first, but the depth of his cry began to vibrate through my bones, getting louder with each passing breath. He was near.

I searched frantically, trying to find the source of his groans. I needed another view. I ran into the hallway and peered through the front-facing window. That’s when I saw him. He moved slowly, but every time I blinked he seemed so much closer as if traveling through dimensions. The being was making his way to my front door.

Why was he still crying?

I have to be seeing things. This can’t be real. With my back to the wall, I sat on the floor. I needed a moment to process. As I touched the ground, I noticed the new rug was wet. Next came what felt like the first few drops of rain, coming to warn you before disaster hits. I looked up to see water dripping down from the ceiling, and the frames of our windows. Then came the sound of the faucets, all dripping at once, almost in unison.

The crying was getting louder, almost loud enough to be inside my house. I ran back down the hall to wake up my parents. Water was gushing from the bottom of their door. I tried to open it, but the pressure of the water kept it shut. I had to break it down. Before I could plan my next move, I felt another one of those shivers. This time, it came with a sense of deep, impending doom. I turned, and there he was at the end of the hallway, with that same familiar glare stopping me in my tracks.

I tried to yell, but I started to cough. I started to vomit water as if I had swallowed the lake whole. I tried to gasp for air but there was nothing but water inside of me. My home was flooding now, and I was the source. I felt the water streaming down my cheeks. It was coming from the sockets of my eyes and tearing the pores of my skin. I was drowning in the middle of my own home. And he just looked at me. No longer sad, no longer crying.

I couldn’t contain the lake inside of me, so I let go. My body opened up, and the current came crashing out of me like a broken pipe bursting for its first and final time. Every door was pushed open, every window shattered as I poured out of my house. I was moving with the water now, forced out of the now broken windows, onto the lawn, and heading straight for the lake.

I felt myself drifting further away. As I lifted my head to look back at my house, I could see him in my window. He was smiling. I think he finally found what he was looking for.

My body no longer felt solid. My hands became waves, grasping for the beach, but only pouring over the rocks along the shore. I was the back, the forth. I became both the push and the pull. The wind caressed me, and in return, I gave it a part of me. It became the cool breeze that would touch someone’s skin and help them forget about the smallness they exist in.

This is how my body turned to water.