Save Our Spirits

The muck in the canal always upset Janie, but she’d gotten so used to it that she didn’t notice it any more. The half-submerged trolley was as much a part of her commute as the old oak tree at the end of the path, and now the only time she reacted to the garbage was when there was a new addition, or a particularly impressive piece of vandalism. The time that someone had managed to dump a temporary security fence in there she whistled; the time they’d gotten an entire sofa suite in there she’d stopped and admired it, until her stomach started twisting. Back when she’d been a child her family had played Pooh sticks in this canal. These days the sticks would get trapped before they’d made it under the bridge.

But there was no other way to walk to her office, and if she kept looking to the other side the thin strip of woodlands were quite nice. As long as it was high summer, and the foliage covered all the rubbish that had been dumped by those too lazy to make it to the canal. Looking straight up was the safest option, or straight down, so Janie lived her life with a crick in her neck and impeccably clean shoes.

It was spring, and time for the neighbours to redo their houses and apartments, and redo the canal while they were at it. Everywhere else in the city it was the start of the daffodils and crocuses, but for the fifteen minutes that Janie spent walking along the canal the only colour was from the fast food wrappers bobbing by.

Normally she had headphones in, but she’d forgotten to charge her MP3 player last night, and she didn’t want to run the battery down on her phone. Her boss was a fossil, who looked as though she should’ve retired a decade ago, and would try and charge employees for using company power on personal things. That didn’t stop anyone else in the office, but Janie didn’t have the nerve for those sorts of games.

So it was that she had her head down, wondering if she could justify a new pair of shoes yet, when she heard a small voice.

“Help. Help me.”

Janie’s blood ran cold as she froze. Her head spun around as she tried to find who’d spoken, but when the pathway was empty her fingers tightened round her keys. Was it a trap, or a prank? It was eight thirty in the morning, people didn’t beg for help in such broken voices at this time. It had the feel of someone with their head down the bog after a night out.

“H-hello?” she said. “Is anyone there?”

“Help me.”

“Look, if this is some kind of game, then you can… just piss off, all right? I’m not in the mood for this sort of thing, and it’s not funny!”

“No… please.” The voice was so faint, and as her brain went into panic mode all Janie could think of was ‘is someone trapped down a well?’. It didn’t help her work out what to do, but at least she wasn’t shaking so much.

“Well, where are you? What do you need help with?”

“Look down.”

“I’ve been looking down. I’ve done nothing but look down all the way here. I’m sure I’d have noticed if there was a person on the floor.”

“I’m not exactly a person.”

Janie froze mid-crouch. “Excuse you? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It depends on your definition of ‘person’.”

“And how do you define it that doesn’t include you?”

“Some people only use it to refer to humans.”

“You’re saying you’re not human?”

“No. But please, I need your help. I’m still dying.”

“I–” Human or not she could handle (probably), but dying? “And what am I supposed to do about that?”

“Please. I’m in the water.”

For the first time in months, perhaps even years, Janie peered over the edge of the canal and squinted at the water. “Why can’t I see you then? Or hear you?” Running out of other options, her mind was torn between this being all a dream that she hadn’t woken up from, or the results of a dodgy batch of chicken last night. She was also trying to weigh up which option she’d prefer; the first one was simpler (but would mean that she dreamt about walking to work, and that was just depressing) whilst the second implied that she was a terrible chef. Sure she wasn’t good, but she’d been trying, damn it.

Making sure she didn’t lean too far out, she tried to see if she could spot anything under the surface, but the water was too grimy to see further than a few centimetres.

“I told you,” the voice said from right in front of her. “I’m in the water.”

A face, old, withered and ghostly, appeared in the grimy water.

Janie yelped and fell backwards.

“I’m sorry!” the voice called, speaking louder to make itself heard, though the effort it cost was audible. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, come back. I can’t hurt you. I don’t want to, but I can’t anyway.”

Walk away, Janie thought. Walk away. You’re going to be late for work.

Instead she clambered back up and leant over again. Now that she knew what to focus on she could see the face clearer, although it still looked like an 80’s special effect. Like the voice, there were no clues to its gender. But then, did water have a gender?

“What – I mean, who are you?” Janie asked.

“What is accurate,” the voice said with a smile. It’s watery lips moved in time with the words, although the sound came from the area as a whole, and the effect was hypnotic. “I’m a water spirit. The water spirit of this canal, actually.”

“Oh. Oh.” Janie looked up at the garbage and her cheeks went red with shame. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? I know you didn’t do any of this.”

“I didn’t exactly stop it either though, did I? Or clean it up.” Years worth of low-level guilt started burning in Janie’s stomach and she shifted about, still trying to keep her trousers clean. “How long have you been here, anyway?”

“Since the canal was first cut.”

“Oh wow.”

“We manifest whenever water is gathered. It calls to us, it creates us. Water is the source of all life, and we are no different.”

“There are more like you?”

“Of course there are. There are millions of my kind, all over the planet.”

“Then how come you’ve never been spotted?” Janie asked. “How come humans don’t know about you?”

“Because it is safer this way. But please, I don’t have time for all these questions. I need your help.”

“With what? Clearing the canal?” Janie looked up at the mess again. I’m going to be late for work, she thought.

“No. It is too late for this water. I have to move, otherwise I will die.”

“So why don’t you?”

“I can not do it by myself. I am not strong enough, and there are not enough bodies of water around here for me to reach.”

“You want me to carry you somewhere else?”

“Please. I would be eternally grateful.”

“I–” Janie bit her lip. Even across the distance to her office, she could already feel the beady, bloodshot eyes of her boss glaring at her. “I can’t, not right now. I have to get to work, otherwise…” Otherwise I’ll get in trouble sounded especially weak when the water spirit was dying. But what could she do?

“Please.”

“I… how would I even move you? Can I just pick you up?”

“No. A container, a box or water-skin.”

“I don’t have anything like that on me. I can pick you up after work today?”

“You can? You will come back for me?”

“Of course. I have to go this way to get home. I can buy a bottle at lunch time, and then collect you afterwards. Will you be all right until then?”

It shouldn’t be possible for water to sigh so loudly, but somehow it did. Ripples bubbled out from the centre of the face, disturbing a beer can that was bobbing past. “Yes. Yes, I can manage. If I know you are coming for me. Thank you, human.”

“Janie. My name’s Janie.” She wondered how many years it would be before she told anyone she’d introduced herself to a puddle.

“Thank you, Janie. I’m Dernet.”

“Dernet. The same name as the canal?”

“I am the canal.”

“I suppose so. Well… I have to get to work now, Dernet. I’ll see you afterwards.”

“Yes. Yes, thank you, Janie.”

“Right.” Janie wasn’t sure what the protocol was for leaving a river spirit, so as she stood up she said goodbye again, and darted away. After five steps she turned back to find a landmark, so she could find the same spot later on. Next to the… used adult supplies. No, the graffiti saying ‘Tom waz ere’ would probably work better. It was more pleasant to think about at least. She gave the area a final wave, before running the rest of the way to work.

---

In the afternoon it wasn’t so simple. There were more people hanging about, including a group of teenagers, and the last thing Janie wanted was to be seen talking to the water. Or worse, the used adult supplies. She hung around for as long as dared, but when the teenagers started watching her she bowed her head and hurried home. On her way past ‘Tom’s vacation spot’, she whispered.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try later.”

Whether Dernet heard or not she couldn’t tell.

---

It was dark when she headed back out to the canal. All the junk took on a sinister menace, and every shadow hid one of the teenagers, waiting to jump out and call her crazy. Or what if there were other spirits? If water spirits existed, what else could there be?

The old canal path still had street-lamps, for which Janie sent up a silent prayer. She had to use the torch on her phone as well to find Tom’s tag. The dark changed all the proportions, making things look larger and further away.

As soon as she found it she was on her knees. “Dernet? Dernet are you here?”

“Janie? Is that really you?” Dernet sounded so surprised, and Janie was offended.

“I told you I’d come back, didn’t I?”

“Yes. But so much time passed, and I thought you had forgotten. Or had dismissed our meeting.”

Janie winced. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to pretend this morning hadn’t happened, but her conscience wouldn’t let her. “It was too dangerous earlier. There were too many people about. But, here, I have the bottle. What do I do?”

It was a 1.75l bottle; she’d had a panic in the shop, and worried that a standard bottle would be too small. The afternoon at work had been agony, as she dashed off to the bathroom every ten minutes. If she’d known she’d have a few extra hours in the evening, she wouldn’t have drunk all of it so fast.

“Just hold it in the canal. I can get into it from there.”

“Like this?” Janie forced most of the bottle under the surface, and shuddered as something floated by in the water next to her.

“Perfect. Thank you.” There was a squelchy sound, and then a glob of water separated from the canal and danced over its surface like oil. It slid into the bottle forcing all the other water out. Once inside it rotated twice, like a dog padding out its bed. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Am I all right to put the lid on?”

“Yes. But I would prefer if you didn’t keep it on.”

“Where do I take you now?”

“For now, to your home. From there we can work something out…”

---

Two months later, and Janie got off the aeroplane and wiped the cold sweat from her face for the hundredth time. At least here in the Caribbean it would soon be warm sweat, and she could stop having to pretend she was scared of flying. The fear of losing her luggage had been nigh-on unbearable, and not even the in-flight films had been able to distract her.

As soon as she was through baggage collection with her small case safely in hand again she could breathe easily. The rush of relief combined with the heat was almost enough to make her pass out right there and then. But there was work to be done.

Outside the airport she hailed a cab. “To the beach.”

“Which one?”

“Oh. Sorry, um, the nearest one?”

The taxi driver turned in his seat and peered at her over his sunglasses. “You don’t care which beach?”

“Not really. I’m British, any beach here will be amazing.”

“In that case, can I take you to my favourite beach? See the best of our country, all right?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Perfect, in fact. Thank you.”

Janie barely noticed the taxi drive, still buzzing from the release of not worrying any more. She was here. They had made it.

Having paid the driver and gotten directions to the nearest hotel, Janie lugged her small case and her backpack down the beach. There were locals and tourists about, and she headed off away from them. After ten minutes on the beach she took her shoes off, and grinned like an idiot as she tried to find a good place.

At last she found a sheltered spot with no one else around. She opened her case and pulled the glass bottle out. The last bit of tension in her shoulders left when she saw it wasn’t cracked at all. The stopper came out with a pop.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Fine. Though I’m glad the experience is over,” Dernet replied.

“Me too. How’s this place anyway?”

“This is… perfect. Thank you, Janie.”

“It’s no problem. I mean, I needed the holiday anyway.”

The pair of them stood and admired the scenery, and Janie wished she could think of something to say. After living with Dernet for so long, she felt there should be more ceremony to this.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” Dernet said at last. “You must be tired. You should go and rest, then enjoy your holiday.”

“Yeah. But…”

“Thank you, Janie.”

“Yeah. And you.”

“What for?”

“For just… everything. Showing me there’s more to the world.”

“For that then, you are welcome. Come on, we should do this.”

“Yeah.” Janie’s voice caught, and with a cough she shook her head and walked down to the water’s edge. She held the bottle under again, and this time the water on the back of her hand was refreshing, even a little warm, and crystal clear. She smiled. This was a far better place to be a water spirit.

With a rush Dernet left the bottle. As soon as they hit the sea they glowed and glimmered, then grew, under Dernet stood upright, balanced on the surface, looking down at her. She blushed as she stood up and dusted herself down. The face was a lot younger now.

“Hey,” Janie said. “How’s that?”

“Much better. I must go and introduce myself to the local spirit. Thank you once more, Janie.”

“Any time.”

“I will see you around.”

“I hope so,” Janie sighed.

“No. I promise.” And with a final smile that glistened like a sunbeam on a waterfall, Dernet collapsed back into the sea and disappeared.