Laying in Wait

Beneath the blazing Summer sun, the plastic slowly rises. It strips the air from within the endless vacuum, the pained growl rippling across the parched yellow grass. It swells and stretches until it can bear the pressure no longer before finally the rushing air is blocked and the sound replaced by running water. Higher and higher, the water rises, threatening to overwhelm the simple space that holds it until it comes to a staggering halt. At last the pool is ready.

Mother gives a stern look, unimpressed by the muddy puddles surrounding our new inflatable, “If you can’t turn the water off when it reaches the line, you will not be allowed to play in it. I’m sure another little child would be happy to have a brand new pool in their yard.”

“Sorry Mum,” the child sighs, as her mother spins and enters the house once again.

Leaning over the edge of the paddle pool, the child wishes that just once her mother would join her for something other than to go cross. It had been so long since they had played together and, with school on hold since June, she was so lonely. What she wouldn’t give to play with someone, anyone for just a little while.

As each tiny tear touches the water, a new little ripple works its way outward. She watches the gentle waves move as she slumps sadly over the edge. As her vision clears she sees it, something so seemingly insignificant but everything to a child. The water doesn’t quite move around her face. Though rest rises and falls ever so slightly as it should, her reflection holds its place, frozen dead in the water.

The child tilts her head, confused, but still her mirror does not move. She moves away to find her mother, peering around the corner just to put eyes on her and finds in her vision the comfort to hamper her concern. When the little girl returns to the water, when she kneels to peer inside, the mirror smiles.

From within the shallow depths, unreasonably dark in the sunlight, a tiny hand, much like her own, rises to trace the space just below the surface. With that strange, crooked smile and one outstretched finger, it beckons her closer. It’s lips part ever so slightly to release a soft whisper, too quiet to quite make out the words.

Closer and closer the child leans in, as the image remains unmoving. She wants to know so badly what this reflection of hers is trying to tell her. Perhaps she too is lonely.

As the little girl’s ear grazes the surface of the water, she hears the words at last, “Come play with me.”

In a splash of unexpected speed, the child loses her footing and falls deep beneath the surface. Deeper than made any sense, for the feeling of falling continues on until she is sure she will lose herself entirely. Though she tries to touch the base of this pool that she knows to be shorter than herself she can’t find it. It is lost to her now. The more she struggles, the more she tries to turn, to leave, the colder the water becomes.

Like ice, it pierces her heart, makes her shudder, until the struggling stops and she finds herself peering upward. Light begins to trickle in, dancing on the rippled water above her. The child’s reflection moves a little more, smiling from above her.

An unfamiliar feeling of dread washes over the child as she peers around this space she now finds herself in, darkness, and the world above…her world. A world of trees, of light, of her mother.

Her mother comes out once again, distorted by the rippling water. Hands on her hips, like always, this time with a towel in tow. The child tries to call out for her, but no sound escapes.

As her mother throws her favourite towel around the living reflection, no longer face alone but full in form, the child from below screams and cries. All she wants is her mother to hold her and keep her warm. Surely, she thinks, her mother must know that isn’t her standing on the surface. If she would just look down, surely she would see.

As her mother spins around and enters the house once again, the reflection smiles. It nods towards the pool with heartless recognition and follows her in.