The Water

She is waiting for me.  I am too nervous to go up to her; speak to her.  She is still as a stone at the edge of the water.  The sunlight and breeze wistfully comb her hair; playfully tug at her tee shirt.  She looks fragile; beautiful.  I bet she laughs behind a coy hand unless with her friends.  Then she hee-haws maybe even snorts.

She grew up here just like me.  I've seen her all my life, recognize her shadow as the sun plays hide and seek with the moon on long summer days.  I know that giggle; innocent yet mischievous as she and her friends plan their futures ~ so far away... the weekend.  I have fewer friends than she.  My friends.  Her friends.  we don't meld, never touch and rarely speak except through tight smiles, batted eyelashes and glances around but never directly on each other.

But here at the lake, the water, things can be different; more neutral.  There is no territory.  The waves are indifferent to our social caste, tickling our feet and slapping our knees.  The water washes all the stickiness of stigmas away- clean.  I love it.  I breathe deeply when I swim here, gulping at the equality and freedom; kicking away criticism and dirty looks for being different or considered less.  And then the waters turned dark.

The kind of dark that never ends and always needs feeding.   The kind of dark that makes you whisper and pray it never finds you.   She wasn't afraid of that dark like me.  I heard her giggling in it, running in it - to it.  Many nights I watcher her dash down the street toward the lake.  I listened to her shoes slap away the warnings of the street as it begged her to go back, go inside and be safe.  Sometimes she even stopped at my drive and I knew she was looking for me.  I would duck behind my drapes and hug my pillow.  I would wish her to be gone into the night, into the dark water.

Others began to disappear into that void but never her.  Fear scurried across our town and scratched at each door.  Curfews were set and sidewalks rolled up as if the adults could somehow shield us.  Protect.  But they could not.  The bodies of the skeptical, rebellious and (not-so) invincible were found at the edge of the lake; bloated and marred by curious slashes, bruised necks, bulging eyes that saw it all while mouths stuffed wilt and leaves prevented ever speaking of the horrors and pain.  The town thought the water was bad but it wasn't.  Not really.  Now I know it was trying to clean away the fear, the murder, the death.  Each day it tried to wash out the blood and tears it's little white caps desperately crashing into screams of those who went.  Who disappeared.

And she just kept going each night down there to the water; stopping at my house while I hid and she waited.  I began to hear her calling my name, coming closer to my window.  I hugged my pillow more tightly, letting it smother me in fear and common sense "don't go don't go don't go" the wind pushed through the screen and I would scream into my protective down warrior "I know I won't."  My tears promised I wouldn't but then one night, she tapped on the glass.  Her little manicured nails clicked out a beckoning.  My eyes darted to the window and couldn't look away.

She smiled.  Waved.

I did too.  There was nothing to be afraid of  She said.  Rumors.  It was fun to sneak out  Better not to get caught.  exciting.  And I believed her.  I wanted to go.  I needed to know what it was like to be her friend even if under the cover of night where no once would see; no one would tell that our groups converged and didn't care.

"It doesn't matter" she said. "C'mon.  It'll be fine.  Fun."

I pretended to ignore her.  She drifted off.  And I waited until my parents thought they'd watched over me long enough.  They fell asleep.  I went.  More cautiously than she.  I tread lightly, avoiding the light and made my way to the dark water.  There she was but with another.  They splashed and hollered. I remember thinking that it DID look like fun.  But the night wind blew me a kiss smelling of warm metal and struggle.  When the silence came, it brought truth and death.  I crouched and shamefully watched. Now she was the only one splashing.  The lake smacked at her, pleading with her to stop. The waves tugged at the body trying in vain to pull it from her, wash it away and wash it clean but she just laughed and splashed back like it was a game of tug of war.  The knife she raised caught the moonlight and as she struck, I gasped giving away my presence.  Handing her my life.

She stopped and waited for me; still as a stone.

"Don't hide.  I know you're there.  Did you piss yourself? C'mere.  she panted and sat down on the shore.

I stood and did what she asked; as she had asked all of them.  I looked blankly at the body floating in the water.  The lake nudging me, warning me.  She poked it with her knife carelessly; stirring, almost writing in the bloody water mixture.  She confessed and giggled.  She sighed wistfully.  I sat there numbly and mindlessly pulled at the mud while my brain screamed behind my eyes.  every nerve was burning.  Tears ran down my cheeks as she politely whispered my fate to me.

I will always be grateful to the water for giving me the small log.  It softly brushed my fingertips and I understood.  It wanted me to end this.

I swung and heard her nose break.  She gasped, shocked and covered her face dropping the blade.  I swung again and her body fell back.  The waves clapped softly for my heroism.  I heard her groan and straddled her quickly.  The moon peeked from behind the clouds and seemed relieved.  IT shown brighter so I could see where the lake wanted to hide her.  Bury her.  It pulled at her and like a tiny boat, she went out beyond me.  The lake would end this and I did as it whispered.  I laid down in it and allowed it  wash me and calm my shaking body.

In the morning, only one body was found.  The last victim.  The adults mourned and asked why.  They begged God to keep us safe and to end this horror.

But I knew better and at night I went to the water's edge and thanked it.  I laid with it and let it tell me the stories and promises of the ending.  Which it did; until just a few nights ago.  It began calling to me. telling me of its hunger and reminding me of the role I played in a very dirty story, one that could be washed away if I just brought down a child....