Where do they go?

I heard the grown-ups say more people visit the bottom of the lake than the town itself. 

Apparently, they never return. The people in the lake I mean. Mr. Samson says that freezing cold water can quickly take your breath away. I guess that’s what happened to those visitors. They lost their breath. I wonder what they’re all doing down there, still. My brother Mark says they’re all dead and rotting with only their eyeballs and hair left. He can’t swim though so I think he’s lying. He said his friend said so but I don’t believe him either. Why doesn’t anyone go in and bring the bodies out if they're dead? Doesn’t anyone miss them? I wonder if they just prefer it down there, quiet and alone away from the life up here. 

I live in the town by the lake. The tall trees along the water's edge are always green but feel threatening. There’s whispering among the leaves, and I think they know something I don’t. Grown-ups here seem hollow. They look at you and smile and talk, but it always feels like they’re talking to someone behind you. Sometimes I turn around but there’s never anybody else there, like a breeze brushing against my skin. People here walk by each other like ghosts.

I know being an adult is hard because Mum used to say that to me and my brother. Some kids at school say they would never live near the lake and when I think about it, I don’t see any other kids on the street I live on. I wonder what it would be like to leave but Dad says we can’t because of his job. I don’t really understand what he does but it’s something to do with the council. I asked him once what a council was and I still really don’t know what one is.

The grown-ups keep to themselves mostly. A lot of people go missing though, like, a lot. I see posters every week of new faces young and old stuck to lamp posts. I asked Dad about it but he says people go missing all the time all across the country and as sad as it is, it’s not special to this place. Where do they go?

Dad is alright most of the time. He doesn’t smile or play with me as much since Mum left us. I miss her and wonder where she is now. I remember her face the most. Her eyes were kind, and when she smiled she had little wrinkles next to them. Mum said people who don’t smile with their eyes are people not to be trusted. So I always look for those wrinkles. I think she’s mostly right. She loved the lake.

Me, Mum and Dad used to spend lots of time here having picnics, swimming and playing. We would sometimes take board games and one time my cousin came with us and we played hide and seek but then she got stuck in a hole for two hours. She didn’t come with us again. My Mum spent more time with me than Dad because of his job. He does try, but I can see he struggles. Mark doesn’t really remember much about Mum.

I was on the pier again stopping briefly on my way home from school. The pier is one of my favourite places to be. It’s old, rotting in places. Dad tells me not to stop here on my way back from school but it’s part of the shortcut I know and I’m always very careful. The water is always murky grey. When I close my eyes I feel nothing but calm. Cold too, but calm. As I sit alone, my mind drifts from Mum, to the lake, then to the people missing; the people at the bottom of the lake. When the water is choppy it sometimes splashes up onto my feet which makes me gasp and I open my eyes and forget everything for just a second. It was colder than usual. Mum went missing three years ago and I like to come back and think of her. Mum’s name was Susan, but I’ll keep calling her Mum if that’s okay.

The trees were whispering so loudly you could almost make out their words. Human whispers. The louder they spoke the colder it got. The sky was a deep grey with even darker strokes. I looked down at my school bag. I have a laminated card on a keychain, a handwritten note from my Mum the time she bought me flowers when I was poorly. I was in bed and I was definitely not feeling well but I was putting it on a bit because I didn’t want to go to school. Mum came in with a bunch of daffodils and it made me smile. The small card with it read:

My beautiful Lily,

You’re poorly and you’re sad

I hope these lovely daffodils

Make you feel happy and glad

 Love Mum xxx

I smiled as I remembered. She wasn’t the most amazing poet but it didn’t matter. Fat raindrops landed on my hand and I flinched back to the present. I suddenly realised the whispers coming from the trees were now loud high pitched wails. I’ve always felt safe here but now it felt as though something was looming. I was scared, and looking around I didn’t recognise the place. The sky looked so close to the ground and I was sure it would crush me. I stood up and looked out over the lake. Something felt off. I hear Dad sometimes say that us kids are intuitive and we can feel emotions from other people. I whispered ‘I love you, Mum’ as I always did before I left.

The high-pitched wails got louder and the wind was making it hard to stand still. I tried to steady myself as I walked back along the pier. It was too much for my light frame. I fought against the wind hard, and as it changed direction I lost my balance. Instinctively, I threw out my hands and my school bag was thrown into the lake. I shouted as if a voice carried weight. Of course, it made no difference. I fell backwards into the freezing water.

My science teacher Mr. Samson said that when you experience a near-death experience it feels like time is moving in slow motion. He said it’s not actually that, but our brains processing every detail we see in an attempt to find a way to survive. Then when we replay the event we have so much detail that it feels like time slowed down. Did you know you can die very quickly in freezing water? I was worried about losing my school bag because of Mum's card, it was all I had of hers to remember. I hit the surface of the water hard, thrashing around and forgot about my bag. The sky darker than ever, the wind wailing, screaming at me and I remembered - I can’t swim either. 

The water is the coldest I’ve ever known. I feel the large body of water trying to swallow me under in one gulp. I’m tired, I haven’t moved much in any direction. I try to remember what my swim teacher said about not panicking, but I forget about that as my face sinks below the surface. The fight in me is gone and I expect to see all of my life flash before me, but actually I just feel some pain and darkness. Pressure in my head builds and I can hear the whispers again of the trees. How can it be the trees? I’m trying to blink but can’t shut my eyes at all. Or maybe they’re already closed. The urge to breathe is violent. My chest is stuck the way it went into the water, my lungs no bigger or smaller. Just stuck. The whispers get louder and I think this is to be my last thought. Drowning in darkness with the whispers in my water coffin.

It feels like minutes and I believe I have died, but I still feel. I am not falling any more. I’m not breathing, but also not struggling. Just calm. Floating. The whispers are small and my eyes are fixed open. I’m staring at thousands of small glimmering lights. The whispers are coming up from underneath me. Many round, white beaded eyes glint from a light source I can’t see, and they all appear to be looking at me. Contorted faces remain still as their eyes stay on me. Fear grips me but sadness quickly takes over.

I recognise little Steven Harper who went missing a few months ago - murky white eyes twinkling and mouth open as if about to speak. I also notice Abbie Gray's Mum, Sally - dark pits where her eyes once were above a permanent crooked smile. She went missing 3 years ago and I remember some of the news stories because they said she had been kidnapped. My eyes dart from face to face, I recognise a lot of the people here. The missing. This is where they go. What kind of lake feeds on people?

I feel something get hold of my leg. Long and bony fingers wrap around my ankle and there’s a wedding ring, and a bracelet. My heart flutters but I am still wondering if I am already dead in this freezing water. Eternally trapped staring into an abyss that was now home. 

I should be dead by now according to Mr. Samson. I’m not breathing but it also doesn’t hurt anymore. Maybe Steven, Sally and the others are alive but trapped. Perhaps they’re breathing too. We don’t have gills like fish so we aren’t supposed to be able to breathe underwater. There’s something in this lake that shouldn’t be with us. Sunlight flickers through from above and I’m drawn to it but instead I look down as I get pulled deeper. The whispers that surround me stop. The immediate silence allows me to focus. The face that looks back at me is familiar. The wrinkles. I blink hard and she is still there when my eyes open. Mum.

The day my Mum went missing, I came home from school. The usual route via the lake. Dad was sat at the table and he was holding a cup of tea. He always looks at me and asks how my day was, but he didn’t do that today. I asked where Mum was. He didn’t hear me. I asked again. Mum was always at home after school, she would often be playing with Mark or she would sit in her chair with a book. Dad looked asleep with his eyes open until he blinked and he murmured something. I don’t remember much after that apart from the loud, breathless crying. I walked over to Dad and said ‘What’s wrong?’ and he cried some more. I knew Mum was gone, and I cried too. 

Her grey skin frames her augmented features and for a moment I want to look away due to the fear. I can’t, of course. I think I’m crying but I can’t tell. Can you cry underwater? Mum looks at me and her expression doesn’t change. I feel like she is telling me something. I love you too, I mouth. Mum lets go of my leg and opens her other hand. In it is the little card with the poem on it - I take it and study it. Mum touches my face. As I look at her in that moment we are back on the pier, having a picnic in the sunshine. I close my eyes and gently fall deeper into darkness.

Later, I thought about telling Mark what I saw but he wouldn’t believe me. It’s probably safer letting him tell his stories of the lake. Knowing where Mum is does give me some closure. I decided to tell Dad about it. He said I was in extreme trauma and it was my brain doing weird things. When I told him I saw Mum and she touched my face his eyes flickered. Did he already know? Or was he just longing for her like I was? Either way he hugged me and told me he misses her too.

Dad said he came looking for me when I didn’t arrive home at the normal time. He came to the pier because he knows I spend some time there on Mum's anniversary. He was walking along the boardwalk and tried shouting to me above the whistling wind, but I didn’t hear him. He’s right, I didn’t. He saw me fall in and ran as fast as he could before diving in and pulling me out onto the pier. He told me I was in the water for less than 15 seconds and I had already passed out because of the cold. I tried to tell him I was under the water for longer than that, but he shrugged it off and said I was being silly.

I sat in my room for some time thinking about what happened. Why wasn’t I at the bottom of the lake forever like Mum? And Steven and Sally? I opened my cat-stickered drawer and took out two small pieces of jewellery. The ring was glimmering, not unlike the many staring eyes I saw. It looked brand new. The bracelet was a bit big for me. Maybe it will fit one day. I’m not going to tell Dad and Mark about the ring and the bracelet. They’ll say I stole them and even if I ask Dad to look at the ring to see that it’s the wedding ring he gave Mum, he won’t look. When I’m well enough to go back to school I’ll ask Mr Samson about it and maybe he can tell me why I’m alive.

 I’ll also give the messy note I wrote for Stevens Dad telling him where his son is, and one for Abbie so she can see her Mum again. They won’t know it’s from me. The lake takes people for its own and even though I don’t know why yet, others should know. 

For now, the visitors at the bottom of the lake will forever be there with my Mum and my school bag, and I will visit again soon.