The Black Lake & The Willow Tree

My gaze melted into the black lake and was thrown back twenty years to the event that changed the course of my life. Freezing water enveloped me, hugging me tight, and an unusually strong current had dragged me deep below the surface.

‘Jump!’ they had shouted. ‘Nothing bad can happen’.

Whose idea was it to go to Jumprock Beach? I did not want to leap off the edge of a rock ten feet above the ocean. Even at eight years old, I knew this was probably not the best idea.

‘Doria’s chicken’, one of them had laughed.

‘Yeah, come on Dory!’ egged another.

I stared down at the thrashing waves below me and my stomach knotted. This was my first real group of friends. I didn’t want them to think I was a loser. And so I jumped. My stomach dropped as I free fell and crashed into the ocean. The current was too strong for my underdeveloped body, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my head above the water. Every time I reached the surface to take a breath, another wave would knock me back down. My surroundings began fading away as I choked on the water. A muscular arm had plunged into the water, hoisting me to the surface and carrying me back to the shore. A lifeguard had saved me, but that day impacted me forever.

And now here I am. Doria. 28. A solo-flying introverted freelance writer, with a skinny frame and a fine-tuned distaste for any body of liquid larger than one that fits the inside of a martini glass. Although I loved my job and was lucky enough to get by writing weekly blogs and titbits for gossip magazines, I worked by myself from home each day, and at times it did get lonely. A light breeze stirred the weeping willow behind me. She gracefully floated above the black lake, her long limping limbs appearing to double in length as they flowed into the murky water below. A plethora of wild orchids and colourful daisies dotted around the base and stretched out along the lake where they met with the reeds that tipped over the edge of the water. Across the lake, a dazzling Jacaranda sat majestically, its petals falling daintily among the lily pads, forcing splashes of vivid violet onto the inklike surface.

The black lake was always still as ice and eerily enchanting, and although drawn to her beauty, I'd never dared to dip my feet in. I had no idea how far down it went, nor did I care to find out what was in there. But this was my favourite spot, my secret spot. It was the perfect place for clearing my head and coming up with new ideas.

I sat down at the base of the willow, pulled out a pen and my little black Moleskine notebook. It had belonged to my grandfather and had never fallen apart, even after all these years. The notebook was modestly entitled, ‘Dory’s Awesome Blog Ideas’, and I opened it up to the page with a doodle of a cat.

But just then I heard a crunch, and looked up to see a little boy standing on a pile of fallen sticks and watching me. He was alone, about four or five years old. Olive-skinned, dark hair and big brown eyes, he was wearing a red t-shirt with a picture of a train on the front and tan cargo shorts.

‘Hello,’ I said, nothing more interesting coming to mind.

No reply.

‘... are your parents around? Your mother maybe?’

The boy stayed silent, his face blank. His eyes, however, left mine and went to the black lake.

‘Ha - I wouldn’t recommend swimming in there’, I muttered, ‘doesn’t look too inviting’.

He ignored me and climbed onto a nearby rock, leaned over the edge and peered down.

‘Please don’t do that, you’ll fall in! And there’s no way I’m jumping in after you!’ I laughed nervously.

And with almost comical timing, at that moment came a gust of wind, the willow tree swayed, its branches brushing the boy, and he lost his balance and toppled into the lake.

The lake that I had never seen anything other than deathly still, suddenly erupted into small waves. They lapped at my feet and the iciness took my breath away.

I waited, but the boy did not resurface. I hopped from foot to foot around the edge of the lake, madly scanning the water for signs of life.

Ten seconds went by.

Then twenty.

Then thirty.

‘Oh god, oh god’ I cried, ‘please don’t make me go in there. I can’t go in there!’

Nearly a minute had gone by now and there was still no sign of the boy.

I had no choice.

With tears welling up, I backed up, ran and dove head-first into the lake. I’d never met water so cold, and it was even darker on the inside. I felt like I was being touched by a million creepy crawlies over every inch of my skin. I shuddered, panic setting in hard, and tried to focus.

Get the boy. Get out.

I began to swim down. Where was he? A moment later, I felt the boy’s hand clasp around my ankle and turned around. There was a hand alright, but it was not the boy’s. The hand was transparent! I followed the arm up to the head… and came face to face with a man who was staring right back at me.

‘Aargh!’ I gurgled, thrashing about and desperately wrenching my legs away. I kicked about and he dissipated. It was a ghost! Terrified, I wanted to get out, but I forced myself to continue further into the depths.

Finally, I saw the boy - motionless, lying on the bottom of the lake. I grabbed his wrist and kicked upwards, child now in tow. I was quickly running out of air, and my lungs were burning. The surface seemed a million miles away. I kicked on. Getting closer now. Keep swimming, keep swimming! I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen. The surface was nearly in reach now. Nearly there! Nearly- huh??

Another hand had grabbed my ankle. I looked down to see the ghost of a woman this time. Her face full of fury, she was angrily pulling me back down. I tried to kick the woman off me, but my feet went right through her head! Then the man appeared again, and gripped my other ankle. The two of them were pulling me back down! I had no more time left. The surface was now miles away again. I closed my eyes and waited for death.

At that moment, something plunged into the water. Some kind of rope! The rope wrapped itself around my waist, and yanked us up to the surface. Up, up, up, we went. Finally, the boy and I shot out of the top of the lake like the cork from a champagne bottle, tumbled through the air, and broke our fall on a patch of daisies. I couldn’t believe it... I’d survived? How could it be? Who was to thank for saving my life?

I looked down at the rope around my waist. But it wasn’t a rope - it was a branch... connected to the willow tree. My eyes followed as she magically uncoiled itself from my body and regained her original position above the lake. I had been saved... by a tree.

A coughing sound broke me from my trance. The child. I looked down to find him clutching onto a jar.

‘What’s that?!’ I asked, pointing at the mysterious jar. ‘Did that come from the lake?!’

The boy unscrewed the jar and presented a fat wad of dollar bills. Gasping, I pulled them out and flicked through it - thousands and thousands… TWENTY thousand! How did this end up at the bottom of the lake? Did someone throw it in?

I heard the sound of someone running towards us. I quickly stuffed the money back inside the jar and hid it behind my back as a sweaty man in a suit appeared.

‘Oh THERE you are!’ he cried, with a giant sigh of relief. ‘Why did you run off like that?!’

He embraced the boy in a hug, then leapt back.

‘You’re drenched!’

‘She saved me from the lake’, the child said, pointing at me.

The man looked as though a dog had just asked him for a cigar.

‘Thomas! You… you spoke!’

‘Oh, so it’s not just me he ignores then,’ I said, wringing my hair out.

‘He hasn’t said a word since his parents died a year ago!’ the man said.

Thomas beamed at me.

‘Oh, so you’re not his dad then?’

‘No no - I’m his social worker.’

I looked down at Thomas staring at me intently and suddenly felt very sorry for him. I now noticed that the train on his t-shirt was actually Thomas the Tank Engine.

‘What happened to his parents, if you don’t mind me asking?’ I asked hesitantly.

‘Oh, a terrible tragedy,’ The man began. ‘They drowned.’

‘They drowned?’ I echoed.

‘Yes - very sad indeed,’ the social worker continued, ‘right here in this very lake, actually.’ He turned to Thomas. ‘I suppose that’s why you wanted to come back here, wasn’t it Thomas? Wanted to visit Mum and Dad?’ He asked sympathetically.

The child nodded slowly. Goosebumps rippled down my arms as I thought about the ghosts in the lake.

‘The last time they were seen, the neighbours heard them arguing about what to do with some money they had won and then they were seen storming off into this forest. When they didn’t come back, they were reported missing.’

So that's why his parents were so angry, I thought to myself. They must have thought I was trying to steal the money.

‘After their bodies were found in the lake,’ he continued, ‘the crime scene investigators concluded that they simply fell. Maybe they slipped, who knows. Never learned to swim, would you believe.’

I looked up suspiciously at the willow tree and wondered if it also liked to push people in.

‘Anyway, we must be getting back to the orphanage now. Thomas, would you like to say goodbye to your friend?’

Thomas ran to me and gave me a hug. It melted me.

‘Back to the orphanage?’ I echoed again.

‘Yes - it’s been a bit of a challenge finding Thomas a forever home, if you will, with his selective mutism and all. But since that’s now changed,’ he added brightly, ‘looks like there could be some hope!’

I was struck with a wild idea.

‘Sir, wait. I would love to adopt Thomas. I have a great job, a nice place, and I live in a safe neighborhood.’

The social worker’s face lit up.

‘Wow! Well then, please come with us and I’ll help you fill out an application.’

I like to think of the Willow as my teacher. Without her, I never would have gotten over my fear of the water, and Thomas and I never would have found each other. Thomas lives with me now, his money safely tucked away in a bank account for when he’s older. Together, we started a swimming school. I take him every Wednesday for lessons. He absolutely loves it, and I use my trusty Moleskine notebook to record all his best times. The school is extremely popular - and I make sure that every penny profited goes into a savings account. By the time Thomas’ Eighteenth birthday rolls around, he’ll have a lot more than twenty thousand dollars.