Beneath the Surface

“Great. We live in a haunted house.”

I rolled my eyes. In my wife’s defense, the house had seen better days. It was built in the early forties, and the white exterior paint withered away to nearly nothing. Shutters that had at one time been painted black were now grey. They hung lopsidedly on rusty hinges. The front porch was missing boards, and the awning above had more holes than a screen door. The landscaping was a mess, overgrown due to years, maybe decades of neglect.

“We can do an exorcism in the morning,” I said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood as I carried our bags to the front door. My wife didn’t laugh, but I hoped that her feelings would change once we got the place fixed up. I hadn’t really bought the place for the house anyway. The property was surrounded by thirty acres of pines and dogwoods, and the price point had made the purchase an absolute no-brainer. The house had been on the market for so long that finding information about the place was nearly impossible. The bank seemed eager to let go of it, and I was more than happy to take it off their hands. These days, people seem far too ready to throw things away and unwilling to put in the work to bring out the beauty that was often hidden. I was certainly not one of those people.

I carried our bags up the porch steps, carefully avoiding the holes in the loose boards. The wood flexed under my weight, and I set the bags down to offer my wife, Marie, a hand. She didn't take it. "Do you have the keys?" she asked.

I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out a large key, which I was surprised wasn’t made of brass. The locks had been changed a few years ago when the bank chased the squatters out. I decided to keep that little bit of history to myself. I was already on thin ice. The only way I had been able to get her to go along with my idea of renovating the dilapidated old home was with the promise of a pool. A promise I was still hoping I could skirt around somehow.

When I was a kid, I had fallen out of my father’s fishing boat. When I tried to push myself back to the surface of the murky, muddy lakebed, some vegetation had gotten wrapped around my leg, and I nearly drowned. As silly as it sounds, I could never shake the feeling that I was supposed to die that day and that death was patiently waiting for me to let my guard down. Since then, I had avoided the water like it was the plague.

I inserted the old key into the weathered lock on the front door. The key stuck halfway through the turn, and I had to work the handle to finally get the door unlocked. "A little WD-40 and this will be fixed right up," I said with a smile. Marie didn't share my optimism. I picked up our bags and pushed the door open with my knee, the old hinges squeaking, welcoming us to our new home. The smell of mothballs, dust, and decay immediately flooded my senses. It was as if the door hadn't been open in years. A draft blew in behind me, kicking up dead leaves that had nested in the foyer.     

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” said Marie.

“Come on, its gonna be great!" A large, winding staircase in the foyer led to a balcony upstairs with a long hallway to the bedrooms. The master bedroom was below the staircase. To my left was the dining room. A walled-in fireplace separated the dining area from the kitchen. To my right, through an open doorway, was the living room. The walls needed fresh paint, and the entire place needed a good dusting, but it seemed structurally sound as far as I could tell. I took my first step inside and used my elbow to flick on the light switch. A grand chandelier hung over the foyer, and two of the six lights came on, which I took as a good sign. "So far so good!" My wife groaned as she followed me inside.

I set our bags at the foot of the stairs. "Want to check out the upstairs?" I asked. I didn't wait for an answer because I was certain she didn't want to check out any part of the house. Marie had suggested renting a place until the renovations were finished, but money would be tight until we got the house back in shape. I grabbed the railing and took my first step up the flight of stairs. The wood buckled and cracked beneath my foot. As I caught myself, I broke one of the wooden balusters holding up the railing.

“So far so good huh?” asked Marie, crossing her arms and giving me a look that explicitly said I told you so.

“We’ll just tell the movers to keep everything in the dining room until I get the stairs fixed," I said. For the first time, I was worried that I may have bitten off more than I could chew.

The movers came, and I was thankful the front porch held together long enough for them to get everything brought inside. The master bedroom was easy enough to set up, but the living room and dining room were packed with couches, chairs, our entertainment center, and more boxes than I could count. It is incredible how fast things can accumulate. I had half a mind to dump all the boxes into a trash bin and just start over.

Marie didn't sleep the first night, which, as any married person knows, meant I didn’t sleep either. Old pipes moaned, seeing action for the first time in years. Moonlight flooded through the curtainless windows, casting shadows in every corner of our room. For the first time, maybe in her life, Marie was eager to leave for work the next morning. Hell, she even left early. The sun began peaking out above the green pines, which meant it was time for me to get to work.

I read somewhere that starting your day with easy wins was a great way to stay motivated, so I tackled the easy projects first, replacing bad light bulbs and organizing the boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling in the dining room. I patched up the broken step on the staircase, as well as two others that were bad. I passed through the bedrooms and the single bathroom upstairs, taking note of things to tell the electrician about when he arrived some time in the next couple of days. I also went about setting up some furniture in the foyer and making sure the master bedroom was put together. I hoped that if I could make the house look more welcoming, Marie would start to come around.

I checked the time on my phone and was shocked when the digital readout said four o’clock. My back ached, and I decided I could use a nice hot bath before Marie came home and I got back to work.

The tile in the master bathroom was going to need replacing. Dark stains had embedded themselves in the grout. The once-white bathtub was now a dingy yellow. I turned the hot water on, and the pipes gurgled in protest. The water that came out of the faucet looked grey, so I decided to let it run for a while before putting the stopper in. I closed the bathroom door and let the steam fill the room. I filled the tub halfway and then stepped in, the hot water immediately soothing my aching muscles. I leaned back and felt the first beads of sweat begin to drip down my brow. I let out a sigh and closed my eyes.

The first thing I noticed was the silence. Having lived in the city most of my life, the absence of traffic made the silence even more peaceful. I felt my tight back muscles turn to jelly in the steaming water and I already felt myself getting acquainted with the quiet country life. The silence was broken when I heard the bedroom door open and then footsteps knock against the floorboards. “Maire’s home early,” I thought. There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Babe, are you taking a bath?” The voice took me a bit by surprise because Marie actually sounded… happy. Maybe a day at work and away from the house had helped her feel more at ease with everything?

“Yeah,” I called back.

“Give me a minute and I’ll join you,” she replied through the closed door. I was so stunned by her response that all I could do was stammer under my breath as I heard her walk away. Ever since I had bought the old house, intimacy had been scarce. I sat up and wondered how we would both fit in the tiny, claw-footed tub, but decided I didn’t care. We would make it work.

My phone chimed on the floor beside me. Of course a contractor would want to talk to me at the least opportune moment. I leaned out of the tub and picked up my phone, trying my best to not get it wet. It was a text message from Marie. “I’m on the way home. Do you want me to pick anything up for dinner.”

As I stared at the screen, a cold chill swept over me that not even the scalding hot bathwater could keep at bay. Then, in an instant, the bottom of the tub gave way, and I fell into a bottomless abyss engulfed by water.

Dirty lake water filled my mouth and rushed up my burning nose. The murky water stung my eyes, and I closed them tight as I desperately fought to pull my way back to the surface. I felt with my feet for anything to push against, but the depths seemed endless. I kicked my legs, trying to propel myself upwards. My lungs burned, and I fought the urge to take a deep breath. I opened my eyes. I could see sunlight glittering on the surface of the water above me. I looked to my left and right and saw nothing but endless blue. I looked below. A dark shadow formed below my feet, and it was getting larger by the second, filling me with dread. I looked back toward the surface, paddling with my arms as hard as I could. I kicked my legs, and something sharp grabbed hold of my ankle. I kicked harder, fighting the urge to scream.

I was trapped. Whatever had a hold of my ankle was refusing to let go. I looked down, hoping to free myself. Looking up at me was a face. One that I had seen in the mirror many times. It belonged to me. My fleshy cheeks were grey with decay, and I stared at a reflection of me thirteen years ago. The abomination stared back with white, milky eyes. It grinned with rotten teeth. I screamed.

Bubbles rushed from my mouth, and I watched the precious pockets of air escape to the surface. I thrashed wildly, trying to free myself from the deathly grip, but no matter how hard I fought, my reflection clung to my leg with a dead, bony claw.

My muscles burned with exhaustion. I couldn’t stare at the creature below me any longer. I looked up, desperate for air. Greedy for it. The glittering sun was beginning to dim. A hand appeared from the surface, reaching down for me. I reached, barely grasping the fingertips with my own. I pulled, but the monster below me pulled even harder. I felt my grip slipping, and a new surge of panic filled my chest. I knew if I let go, I would be lost forever. I kicked myself to the surface one last time and grabbed hold of my savior's wrist; then, I was pulled free.

I exploded to the surface, gasping for air. I was overwhelmed with relief as vital oxygen filled my empty lungs, and I opened my eyes. Maire was standing in the bathroom, her face twisted in horror. “Jason, calm down! Are you okay?” I was standing in the bathtub, my feet safely planted on the dingy, yellow porcelain. I stepped out of the tub, dripping. Marie held onto my arm so I wouldn’t slip. “Jason, talk to me!” she pleaded.

I couldn't believe it. Only moments ago, I was sinking into a bottomless lake. But I couldn’t have been. It wasn’t possible. I was standing safely on the dirty tile in my bathroom. “You were right. Pack your things. We are getting the fuck out of here.”