Lake of Shadows

‘Come on mate, juss one more drink.’

Bailey weakly and playfully punched the chest of the man pushing him out of the bar, almost collapsing against it in the process. Justin, the town’s bartender, and Bailey’s longest friend, grunted as he took on Bailey’s weight, struggling to keep his friend upright.

‘Enough Bailey, just go home,’ Justin replied as he finally pushed Bailey out of the bar with a final heave, ‘The town priest will throw you out of the meetings again if he sees you.’

Bailey blubbered, half laughing half crying as he took another swig of the near empty bottle he held in his hands. Most of the liquid didn’t even make it into his open mouth. He ran the back of his hand, grimy from a day’s work at the mill, over his face.

‘Drink with me, Juss…in. Tonight, we’re celebrating my divorce!’

‘Go home. And don’t cause any trouble on the way. Your missus won’t like it.’

Bailey raised his bottle like he was about to give a toast.

‘Well, I ain’t gonna have no mishuss no more.’

The door to the Chipped Flagon shut heavy and loud in Bailey’s face. He lowered his arm heavily as he turned around and staggered down the backstreets leading from his friend’s ‘unholy’ establishment. The streets were dark, washed only in the silver light of the waxing moon, the only sound being roaring music and raised voices from the bar behind him. Bailey walked the crooked, uneven path for a few paces before veering into the forest on his left, deciding to skip the centre of town to avoid the priest.

The redwood forest almost seemed to rise up and swallow him whole as he walked through its depths, heading towards his property. He swirled the remaining liquor around the bottle a few times before lifting it to his lips and emptying its contents into his mouth. Once the last drop had touched his tongue he chucked the bottle into the nearby shrubbery, beginning to poorly hum a local folk song his mother used to sing to him as he slept.

“There is a place on the east

Mysterious ring, a magical ring of stones

The druids have lived there once they said,

Forgotten is the race that no-one knows.

Rum de rum ‘rud a derimo

Rum de rum ‘rud a derimo

The misted lake of a different age

Scarlett lines carved on ritual stone.

Virtuous maidens reposed to rest

Forgotten is the race that no-one knows.

The mist shrouds the traveller unaware

And maidens shine from across the lake.

Mysterious ring, a magical…“

A sudden chill ran down Bailey’s spine he realised he was enveloped in tendrils of translucent mist, rolling off the shore of a lake that was only just visible in the half-moonlight. Bailey turned about, searching for an exit from the dense fog that had descended upon him before catching what seemed to be a shiver from the surface of the lake. Peering into the mist, Bailey was drawn closer and closer to the lakeside by what felt like a magical force.

The surface of the lake shivered once again, like a mirage in the Saharan desert. As Bailey leaned down to investigate the shivering water, something broke the surface. Something twisty and shadowy that seemed to form and reform right in front of his eyes. Shocked by the sudden emerging of a creature that looked like death itself, Bailey found himself on the floor, scrambling back several feet clear of the lake’s shore. Screams, screams of the damned emanated from the very core of the shadow being, assaulting his ears with the unholy choir of tortured souls. Slinking like a snake, the shadows slithered towards Bailey, twisting and twitching around his flailing legs. Bailey gave a yell, then finally a scream, not caring about his image as a man and now very much sober.

The shadows then suddenly became heavy, like his legs had been encased in bricks, and began dragging Bailey towards the depths. Any struggle was worthless, his pounding fists drawing nothing but his own blood. One of the smoking tendrils whipped around in response to his efforts, hitting his head. With his ears ringing, blood dripping into his eyes and the world spinning, Bailey was drawn into the depths of the lake.

***

The world was still, here. In the water.

The sea grass sways peacefully around the algae covered stones. Water-worn stones arranged in a circle.

Its too bad the crystal-clear blue water is being tainted red. By my missing legs.

My beautiful wife sits upon the centre stone, making our dinner from some meat that was floating in the lake.

Her flowing red hair swished around her glowing green skin. Her lovely snake-like blue tongue constantly flicked in and out, testing the quality of the mystery meat.

Her legs, shrouded in black shadow, twisted around the stones surrounding her, and seemingly around the corners of my vision.

Surely this is true bliss.