Spindle Lake

"But I don't want to go!" I cry, tugging at the ropes binding me to the pontoon.

"Not my decision, lovely. You drew the marked stone. You forfeit. 'Tis fer the good of Spindle." Ronson unties the pontoon from the harbour, tossing it and me to our deadly fate. "When the waters choose, t'ain't nothin' anybody can do. Besides, you're a wanted criminal. Consider this yer sentence."

The lake stretches far out in front of me as I float away, with Ronson getting smaller and smaller.

"What if I survive?" I call out, the urgency in my voice evident.

He shakes his head. "Nobody survives."

That's the last I see or hear of Jacob Ronson before the fog cloaks him and the shoreline from view.

Folk stories littered my childhood with the predisposition for fear of approaching the town's lake. Since I was a babe, and my mother before me, and her mother and so on, it's been a rite of survival. She rarely picks female born prey. Yet here I am, scored stone in my hand, tied to a raft in the middle of her playground. I am well and truly screwed.

How did I get here? Well, since you asked, and at any moment I could die, I figure I may as well be honest to at least one person before then.

My family's maternal lineage has had a curse of dealing with abusive men. Every generation, one of our women suffers for it. Lord knows when that curse began, but it's been there since before my grandmother's time. These men beat, scorn, torture the female part of our family. There's no getting away from it.

The man who sired me was a cruel one, to my mother, my sister and myself. Nobody else took action against him - nor would they, he was eighty kilograms of pure muscle and rage - so I decided to carry the responsibility of dealing with his atrocities alone. When they found him, the local abattoir smelt of sin, and I was miles away.

If those who called themselves our neighbours weren't going to help, then they'd swallow the pride of their willful ignorance. I wasn't going to let him kill us. And I wasn't going to let the townsfolk forget their cowardice.

From that day forward, I was considered an outlaw. To get away, I navigated the sixteen seas with a band of fellow felons, taking gold from the snooty lords that claimed the coast and bestowing it on their starving people. My return had only arisen as a result of my mother's severe illness, and my intention was to use what loot I had from my crew's last excursion to pay for a physician. Alas, I was caught on the border of Tamway in an attempt to slip past the guards unseen. Even worse for my luck that it happened the noon before the Drawing, and they knew I was a resident of Spindle before my crime was committed. This meant that they held off on sentencing me before the results of the Drawing. Sneaky bastards.

So here I am. Tied to a floating pile of logs on water home to a flesh eating monster. I suppose it's my karma.

Great. I'm going to die.

The fog is thick and white, enveloping me.

Silence.

As the raft drifts along, I consider my options. Do I still have the knives in my boots, the tincture in my petitcoats?

It's useless. I'm tied by my wrists and ankles to this godforsaken pontoon.

The quiet is eerie.

Until it's not quiet.

I register a little splash behind me. I feel my heart begin to race.

She's getting closer.

Closer still.

I can't breathe.

Then I see her.

I can't even turn around, but know from the reflection that it's her.

Teeth like spindles in a gaping red maw. Floodlights for eyes. Pieces of skin stretched over a mammoth humanoid skeleton.

No mistake.

A claw is raised and lowered. I hear a disembodied scream. Crimson runs down my dress. My scream.

I'm going to die.

Another swipe. I duck. The ropes fall from my wrists. I reach into my boots.

"Looking for something?" The voice is like lightning strikes on a steeple, but submerged in water.

She's holding my knives.

Shit.

"I was hoping to play... But it seems not. Oh well." She tosses my knives into the lake below. "Worship is enough."

Leering at me, she takes another claw. I narrowly dodge, losing my balance.

Then remember.

I whip out my bralette, concealing the blade as I slice my ankles free. The bralette cascades to my feet.

If I'm going to die, then I'll die fighting.

On my knees, I rummage into my petticoats. The tincture. I spill it on the blade.

Then reveal.

"I'll give you a fight!"

A hiss. She grapples for me, but I leap in time to avoid her striking me. I'm on her arm now, sprinting towards her face. Two seconds. All I need is two seconds-

I can't breathe.

My body is heavy in the depths.

Even more so in her claw.

She squeezes.

"Playtime's over."

Her maw is all I see. I muster up just enough strength to leverage my weight on her lip and-

Knife. Eye. Now.

The blade plunges into her skull.

Her agonised shriek throws me to the lake floor.

I can't move.

Above me, I note that the sun is trying to break the fog. Streams of it hit the surface. First rays of light I've witnessed on the lake in my lifetime.

Maybe... my sacrifice... wasn't all for not...

****************************************

"Father?"

"Yes, ma boy?"

"Why were the town so afraid of the lake?"

"Because a monster used to live in it."

"The lady?"

"Nae. There was a monster. What lady?"

"Aye, there's a lady. Her face comes to the surface sometimes when I walk past for trout. She seems to always be asleep."

"Asleep, ye say?"

"Aye. She looks peaceful."

The man pauses.

"Peace is all we can give her now, son. Maybe leave some water lilies on yer next round for the face in the lake, what do ye say?"

"Aye father, that sounds wonderful!"

Spindle Lake/END