Lost Soul Lake

The chains caressed his body. The rusty links dug deep into the crumbled cement blocks holding down his arms and feet.

He threw his body forward and snapped back from the administered baggage. The chains were rusty and he was in need of a saw to cut them free.

Milford Remkry saw water. He hated opening his eyes in the blue abyss. The water somehow stung and clouded his vision. He returned from the dead only once a year.

He lost his life to a killer. He rendered his soul to the water when he vowed revenge.

Milford focused on the task. The lady of the lake would be back. She offered a chance for redemption. He would try once more to answer her riddle.

His death was nine years ago. He emptied the last of his saltwater tears on that day. He’d seen the futility of revenge.

“I want my soul back,” he bellowed.

He was a man without a soul to barter. No one could hear his screams. He was encased physically and mentally in the deepest part of the lake.

Furiously he waded his way through the water. He wanted his soul.

“Give it back. It’s mine,” he roared.

The cruise line was giving tours again in that filthy rich sleepy hollow town. He bided his time. The estate cruise tore across the water.

His long floppy hair didn’t allow for fixing and made it intolerable to see around him. His eyes scanned through strands.

It was cold. Darkness would precipitate her return. He was fixated on finding the mysterious lady.

“I want it back,” he taunted.

He peered at the substance. It mimicked his fuel for revenge. The body of water was a chameleon. In summer it was fluid, solidified in winter and dry in the heat. He was the same. Ever changing like the seasons, he’d settled on dry.

Milford thought about Edward Parsen very little. Ed took his life with a bullet. It was a financial misunderstanding. Ed wanted to rob the company and he did. Milford paid with his life and reputation.

Ed set him up and was now living the high life in Miami. Dismal Michigan weather was far behind Ed and his pedestal wife Nancy.

Milford shook his head. Greed was common. Hate was a feeling he didn’t wear anymore. He silenced his mind and waited. Would she appear?

It was Halloween. It was the day she usually showed up. He had failed all eight years to answer her.

She glided easily through the rippled water. The lady was looking for Milford. Seven others failed to answer her riddle. It was his turn.

She swam in his direction. She was beautiful. The lady of the lake never disappointed. She was ageless.

“Milford,” she bellowed melodiously.

His eyes steadied on her. Cascading brown hair with streaks of gold and an embellished gown befitting of a princess, she made her way toward Milford.

Her upper torso and face above the waters, she gently approached him.

“It’s you,” he exclaimed.

“Yes. It’s me,” she answered.

“You’re here,” he whispered.

Enchanted she went under the water again and smoothly made her way until her eyes greeted his.

They would talk now, although not aloud. The dead only communicated by the mind.

“I didn’t think I would see you after last year,” offered Milford.

“Last year,” she paused eyeing him, as she encircled him, “tell me what happened last year?”

“I offended you.”

“It doesn’t matter. My feelings are irrelevant. You get your turn every year,” she said.

He studied her, “I’m sorry. I was very bitter.”

“And now...”

“I’m not. Anymore,” he announced.

She opened her mouth wide. She let out a scream. It wasn’t the sound of a siren mermaid. It was more like the wail of a banshee. The lady in the lake sensed death.

Splash. Thud. Another body with secrets too deep to bury in a dirt grave grazed the surface and dropped to the bottom. Secrets of the dead required dirt and water.

“What will you do Milford if you answer my riddle?” She inquired.

“I’ll get back my soul.”

“What will you do with it?”

“Never barter it for revenge to the devil.”

It was a story he wished not to repeat. It was not a tale he would ever tell the lady.

“I see. I think you’re ready. Your mind is made up.”

“Yes,” he demanded. “Can you give me back my soul?”

“Yes,” she promised, “would you like to answer my riddle?”

“I would like to try again this year. It will be my ninth year.”

“This year you’re hopeful. It’s a difficult riddle but perhaps your maturity has developed so that you may find it easy,” she ascertained.

“Please, the riddle.”

“What is the most valuable resource?” She asked.

He was only allowed one chance to answer the riddle.

He knew it wasn’t about gold or money because the lady of the lake didn’t value money, property or possessions.

“May I get one hint?”

“Only one this year,” she warned, “you can’t get back this commodity. That is your hint. What is so valuable Milford that one can never regain it? I think you know. You’ve learned this lesson.”

He buoyed up in the murky water. Facing her, he peeled back his eyelids. Blue eyes meeting blue and a mass of blue water between them, he thought.

It wasn’t the mind of man. That was a good guess. The mind could regenerate and develop. Intelligence could be regained.

There was only one answer. An answer he knew all to well, it slipped right off his tongue and screamed in his mind.

“Time,” he roared without an ounce of glee.

“Yes. It’s time. You’ve paid your dues Milford.”

She swam to him. Her arms stretched and stopped close, “Take it,”

“You knew,” he responded and grasped the intangible object.

She disappeared into the cold waters.

She glanced back and nodded.

“Of course I knew. I’m Eva. The lady of the lake always knows when it’s time for a soul to depart. Goodbye Milford,” she said.

His soul represented time. He was no longer a victim of purgatory.

His soul kept time as a dead man. He had wasted it harboring revenge.

The gift of time returned to his eternal soul.

He sighed. Eva had given him more than time and his soul.

“Goodbye,” he muttered.

He was at peace.