The Black Lake: Tales of Melancholic Horror

by Jon Athan

  Roy hopped aside, barely dodging the television as it fell off the entertainment center. The pristine screen cracked from the impact. The floor beneath the glass coffee table screeched as the heavy furniture miraculously moved on its own. Michelle sobbed with the raucous furniture, creating an orchestra of domestic ruckus.

  Roy shouted, “How did he die?!”

  Kristy roared, “He fell!”

  Abruptly, the drywall in the living room shook. A fist-sized hole was punctured into the walls at every meter. Kristy was trepidatious from the devastating blows – the punches were eerily familiar. She scrunched her face as chaos erupted in the modest apartment.

  As Roy approached the couch, he suddenly gripped his own throat. He struggled to speak as he inexplicably choked. His jugulars bulged on his throat. On the tenterhooks, Kristy gazed into Roy's eyes as the life slowly diminished from his body. Roy reached for Kristy, calling for help without uttering a word.

  Kristy planted her moist palms on her ears and tightly shut her eyes, then shouted, “I pushed him! I killed him, damn it! I killed him!”

  Kristy inhaled deeply, then opened her eyes and removed the makeshift plugs from her ears. Only Roy's gasping echoed through the apartment. The mystifying disturbance and violent motions had ceased with her confession.

  Kristy glanced towards Roy and asked, “Is it... Is it over? Was that all he wanted? Huh? All of this for that?”

  Roy staggered to his feet as he gently rubbed his aching throat. He coughed, then responded, “I... I think so...” He placed his hands to his knees as he caught his breath and glanced around the vandalized room. He nodded and said, “I think that's all he wanted. He wanted some sort of... some sort of justice. But, it's... I mean, it's not really justice, is it?”

  Kristy shrugged and said, “I don't know. I'm not proud of what I did, but I believed he deserved it. He was abusive, physically and emotionally. It was in the heat of the moment. I... I couldn't control myself...”

  “You don't have to explain yourself to me. I understand,” Roy said as he leaned back on the window and attempted to compose himself.

  Kristy scanned the room, examining the destruction. The walls were punctured with dozens of holes, the television was shattered, and the floor was scuffed. Kristy stopped her inspection as she crossed eyes with her daughter. Michelle's eyes were brimming with woeful tears.

  Kristy planted her palms on her daughter's rosy cheeks and said, “You don't have to cry anymore, sweetie. It's over. We can live in peace now. We can live happily ever after. It's all over.”

  Michelle grimaced as she shook her head. She crawled away from her mother on the sofa, then said, “You... You killed daddy? My–my daddy...”

  Kristy's eyelids flickered and her hands trembled as she watched Michelle. Her daughter was apprehensive and disturbed. As Kristy tried to comfort her, Michelle wiggled away from her mother's embrace. Michelle was utterly petrified by the revelation. Kristy's teeth chattered as she struggled to explain her actions. She couldn't think of the words to justify murder to a child.

  As he watched from the wall, Roy whispered, “I suppose that's the justice he wanted...”

  The Deranged Caller

  “That was the best meal I've had in days,” Karen Woods said as she strolled through the front door.

  She tossed her sleek black leather bag on the console table beside the front door, then gazed at her reflection on the pristine mirror dangling from the adjacent wall. A petite woman with effortless elegance. The light on the ceiling gleamed off her lustrous brown eyes. Her long, silky black hair sat towards the center of her back. She donned a black shirt with a boat neckline tucked into her black a-line skirt. Her knobbly kneecaps were veiled by her black stockings. Her pendulous pearl necklace glowed like the moon at night.

  As she gazed at herself, Karen smirked and joked, “You've still got it, mamma...”

  Charles Woods grabbed her waist, bumped his chest to the back of her head, and stared at the mirror. He said, “Well, we could have dinner like that more often if you learned how to cook.”

  “Oh, really? Why don't you learn how to cook? You're the one watching those food shows all night,” Karen rebutted as she shuffled in her shirt and stroked her hair. “I can cook anyway. I'm no chef, but I can microwave something for you right now and we won't need any firefighters.”

  Charles chuckled and shook his head as he walked away. His brown dress shoes thudded on the dark hardwood flooring. 40-year-old Charles stood with a brawny, stout physique – chubby but strong. His dome was covered in black hair with vibrant gray streaks. He wore a short-sleeve checkered shirt tucked into his khaki pants. He was a man of simple taste.

  As he walked towards the sofa and turned on the television, Charles asked, “What's taking Anna so long?”

  Immediately, Karen's eyes sharpened as she turned towards Charles and asked, “She's not in here yet?” She turned towards the opened front door – a wave of darkness poured into the home like a tsunami. Karen whispered, “Did he... Did he actually...”

  Suddenly, 8-year-old Anna pranced through the opening, swinging her arms with each jolly step. Her black hair bounced with her skipping, waving on her timid shoulders. Her blue sundress swayed with her joyous movements and her white sandals slapped the floor with each lunge. Her brown eyes were brimming with happiness and her round face was flushed with innocence.

  Karen sighed, then asked, “What took you so long, sweetie? What were you doing out there?”

  Anna stopped in front her mother. In a soft and euphonic tone, she responded, “I was in the car. I was finishing my song.”

  Karen planted her palms on her daughter's cheeks and said, “Next time, tell me and I'll wait with you. You know I love pop music, too, right? It's my favorite.” As Anna giggled, Karen said, “What? You don't believe me? I used to...”

  Abruptly, the landline phone on the console table rang – the shrill ring echoed through the living room. Charles stopped flipping through the channels and glanced at the unusually niggling phone with narrowed eyes. Karen shuddered as the screechy clangor pierced through her psyche. She stared at the inexplicably worrisome landline phone without a single blink.

  As he planted the phone on his ear, Charles answered, “Charles Woods speaking, how can I help you?” There was no response, only husky breathing transmitted from the other line. Charles furrowed his brow and asked, “Hello? Is anyone there? Can I help you?”

  Charles returned the phone to the base, keeping his eyes locked on the glossy device. His limbs were stiff and his eyes were unwavering – not a single wiggle of a limb or a twitch of the eyelid. He was clearly pensive, lost in his own thoughts. Karen sauntered towards Charles' side, then gripped his sturdy forearm.

  She asked, “Who... Who was it?”

  Charles loudly inhaled and shook his head, trying his best to snap out of his contemplation. He glanced at his attentive wife and daughter, then responded, “It was no one. I think it was a wrong number or maybe some bad reception. Don't worry, they'll call back if it was important.” He smiled as he knelt down and wiggled his fingers in front of Anna and said, “Now, I think it's time for bed or the tickle monster will get ya!”

  Anna merrily giggled as she capered away from the tickle monster, looking over her shoulder with each step as she darted towards the staircase to the left of the living room. Karen sighed in relief as she planted her hand on her moist brow. As Charles followed Anna, shuffling with a zombie gait, the phone rang.

  Charles stopped in place. His smile vanished in an instant. He stared at the phone, then glanced at Karen. He could see the fear in her eyes. Upon realizing her father wasn't trailing her, Anna returned to the living room, protruding her head from around the corner like a curious turtle. She couldn't comprehend the reluctance in her parents.

  Anna stepped forward and asked, “Do you want me to answer it?”

  Charles turned towards his daughter with a furious scowl and sternly said, “No. Don't you ever a
nswer that phone. You understand me?” Anna slowly nodded and stepped in reverse. With the phone tightly clenched in his damp hand, Charles answered, “Who is it? What do you want?”

  After five seconds of silence, a man with a hoarse voice asked, “How was dinner?”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “How was dinner? Was it good? I didn't know you liked seafood. I guess I can't remember everything, right? Did... Did Anna like the shrimp? How was it? Tell me. Tell me.”

  As his body moved with each heavy breath, Charles responded, “You damn maniac, I want you to leave my family alone. I've had enough of this. Stop calling this number. I will call the police and I will have you thrown in jail. That is a promise, you understand?” There was no response. Charles asked, “Are you... are you still there? Can you hear me?”

  The man responded, “2314 Pera Drive. That's your address now, isn't it? You thought you could get rid of me if you moved, didn't you? 2314 Pera Drive, the two-story home with the big tree in the front lawn. I know it.”

  Charles eyelids flickered from the sudden confusion and apprehension. He angrily stuttered, “You–you... You're wrong! You're... You're wrong!”

  In a sonorous, distorted voice, the caller shouted, “I'm coming home! I'm coming home! I'm coming home! And I'm taking her with me!”

  Charles removed the phone from his ear and placed the receiver by his mouth as he barked, “You come here and I will kill you! Do you understand me?! I will not tolerate your bullshit anymore, you damn prick! I dare you to come here! I dare you...”

  He stopped as he felt the tugging from the back of his shirt. He turned and found his frightened daughter standing behind him. Anna's eyes were full of tears. Karen held her trembling hands to her mouth as she watched the commotion. Charles glanced at the phone and realized the deranged caller had disconnected before his vicious diatribe.

  As she lowered her arms to her sides, Karen said, “I thought you changed the number. I thought you said he wouldn't call anymore. I thought you said we'd be safe if we moved. You promised.”

  From behind Charles, oblivious and curious, Anna asked, “Who? Who's calling?”

  Charles said, “No one, sweetie. It's nothing. Just a... just one of those pesky salesmen. Daddy has to be mean to make them stop calling sometimes.” He gently patted her head and hugged his daughter. He glanced over at Karen with regretful eyes and said, “Everything's fine. I think we should get ready for bed.”

  ***

  Anna rested on her mattress, her tiny body veiled by her blue cotton comforter. Her matching blue nightgown rested snugly on her body, reaching down to her ankles. She wiggled her bare toes as she absently gazed at the ceiling. The sky-blue nightlight beside her bed illuminated the mattress and the neighboring nightstand.

  The remaining real estate in the bedroom was swallowed by darkness. Anna glanced down towards the foot of her bed. Luminous moonlight spilled through the spotless window on the parallel wall – the only other light source in the pitch-black room. Anna shuffled in bed as she searched for sleep in the ominous shadows.

  As she shut her eyes, Anna whispered, “Sleep... sleep... sleep...”

  Suddenly, a muffled crackling sound seeped into the room. Anna's eyes immediately widened as the noise bounced into her ears. She shuffled in bed, then glanced towards the window. The crackling sound abruptly stopped. The room became silent.

  Anna whispered, “Is someone there?”

  There was no response. She crawled to the edge of her bed, then dangled off the side. With narrowed eyes, she pierced through the darkness and inspected the space under her bed. Only clumps of lingering dust and a lonesome spider harbored the barren space. There were no monsters waiting to gobble her up. Anna sighed in relief, then returned to her bed.

  As she dug her face into her soft pillow, Anna whispered, “There's no such thing as monsters... No such thing as monsters.”

  Seconds turned into minutes and sleep turned into an impossibility. Even with the heaviest eyelids set as a trap, slumber was a beast impossible to capture. As the moonlight poured through the sealed window, a loud crack echoed into the room. The crackling was more consistent than before, increasing in volume as it approached the bedroom.

  Anna gasped and pulled her comforter to her nose. She could feel something coming, she could feel the evil lurking in the darkness. The noise abruptly stopped as Anna clenched her eyes shut. Seizing the opportunity, Anna hopped out of her bed, then bolted towards the bedroom door. The door squealed as she slipped out of the room like a sly fox. The floorboards groaned with each calculated step. Anna stopped at the neighboring room. She pushed the door open, then peeked inside.

  To her right, her parents slept in a queen-sized mattress. Across the foot of the bed and hugging the wall to the left, there was an entertainment center with a flat-screen television on top. Like her room, there was a window at the parallel wall from the door. The walls were decorated with elegant frames harboring family photographs. The bijou bedroom was drenched in darkness. Anna could only hear her father's snoring.

  From the doorway, Anna clasped her hands in front of her chest and whispered, “Daddy? Daddy, I'm scared...” There was no response. She sniffled, then said, “Mommy, I'm sorry... can I... can I sleep with you tonight? Please?”

  Her parents were deep into their slumber. Anna knew a soft whisper could not wake them. Yet, she could not conjure the energy to shout. The inevitable scolding from a disappointed parent was too much to endure, regardless of the circumstances. Anna left the door open, then scurried back to her bedroom. Her door swung open as she darted to her bed. The bed howled from the pressure of her leap. She quickly slid beneath her covers, then tightly shut her eyes.

  Anna whispered, “There's no such thing as monsters, there's no such thing as monsters...”

  Anna's heavy breaths reverberated through the room as she tried to whisk away the nightmare. Her mind roamed towards her happiest thoughts as she hopelessly tried to block the mysterious prowler from her imagination.

  Trying to replicate her mother's soothing voice and melodious tone, Anna gently whispered, “Go to sleep, go to sleep, baby...”

  Before she could doze off, her potential sleep was disturbed by the bedroom window's rattling. The glass barrier violently wobbled and screeched. Anna opened her teary eyes as she whimpered. She was dismayed as she gazed at the window.

  To her utter surprise, a black shadow levitated outside her bedroom. The shadowy figure had lanky limbs and a long torso. Large horns protruded from the figure's head. The baleful silhouette tugged and pulled on the window as it growled and snarled.

  Anna held her hands to her ears and screamed, “Daddy! Daddy, help me! Daddy!”

  As the prowling beast continued to push the jammed window open, Anna could hear a barrage of footsteps and rumbling floorboards in the hallway. In his crimson flannel pajamas, Charles bolted into the room, then stared at Anna. Anna pointed at the window and wept.

  Charles glowered and shouted, “I warned you! I told you to stop this, boy! I told you to stop!”

  From her bed, Anna watched as her father hurtled towards the window. She watched as the moonlight illuminated the two wrestling silhouettes. Suddenly, the shadowy figure outside the bedroom lost its grip and plummeted to the ground. The devastating fall was accompanied by a bone-crunching thud and a bloodcurdling shriek.

  As he staggered in reverse, Charles whispered, “I didn't mean to...”

  From the doorway, Karen watched in awe. Her bottom lip quivered as she stuttered, “Wha–What did you do? What–What happened? What...”

  Charles turned towards Karen and explained, “He was trying to... He was trying to break in, sweetheart. I told him to stop. I've warned him about this. I told him to stay away from us.” He glanced at Anna and whispered, “I told him to stay away from her...”

  Karen sniveled as her legs wobbled from the overwhelming anxiety and dread. She responded, “We... we have to call someone. We have
to call 911.”

  Charles nodded and instructed, “Stay here, Anna. Don't move, okay? Everything's going to be okay. Go to sleep, sweetie. Go to sleep.”

  ***

  Anna strolled down the unusually eerie hall. The melancholic shadows danced in every dim corner, surrounding her timorous body with a funereal ambiance. The stairs creaked with each meticulous step as Anna delved into the living room. She stopped and listened to her parents as they stood by the console table near the front door.

  With the phone planted on his rosy ear, Charles said, “I'm telling you, it was an accident. I pushed him, but he shouldn't have been there. I didn't mean to hurt him.” He paused and nodded as he seemingly listened. Charles continued, “I checked up on him... he's not looking good. I mean, he fell on his back from the second story for crying out loud. He's bleeding out, coughing up blood and everything. Probably a broken spine or something. I don't know. Just send an ambulance and a detective or whoever. Just, please, send someone.”

  Karen whispered, “I can't believe this is happening. We should of let him in...”

  Anna raised her shoulders and tiptoed through the archway to her left, quietly slipping into the kitchen without alarming her parents. Her bare toes wiggled and wormed from the frigid linoleum flooring. She persevered through the chilly cold and opened the back door. She scrunched her face as the door squealed like a pig in mud. Anna held her breath and bit her bottom lip. To her utter surprise, her parents were unaware – her father was still talking on the phone and she could still hear her mother's sobbing.

  Anna whispered, “That was close...”

  The moist grass tickled her feet and the cool breeze caressed her body as Anna walked through the backyard. Her grubby feet sank into the moist grass with each plodding step. She slowly approached the body on the floor. The diabolical silhouette was not a monster of the night – he was a mere man cloaked by the forbidding darkness.

  The young man stood six-one with a slim physique. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt, begrimed black jeans, and dilapidated black-and-white sneakers. His buzz cut hairdo was apparent from the crack in his hood. From his visible face, Anna could see a contrasting scar under his right eye – a slice from his cheek to his jaw. The man looked starved and ill, like if he had been to hell and back.