Evil Whispers

by Goingback, Owl

  Almost immediately Janet spotted the rainbow flash of a freshwater bass as it moved slowly through one of the open areas. Robert slowed the boat to a crawl, spotting two more bass lurking in the shadows beneath a cypress tree.

  Knowing the reeds and eelgrass could be a real nightmare to cast in, especially for an inexperienced fisherman like Krissy, he guided the boat so that it came to a stop on the edge of one of the large open areas of water. Switching off the motor, he set the anchor to keep them from drifting back downstream.

  “This looks like a good place,” he said, picking up one of the rod and reels. “Krissy, would you like me to put your worm on the hook?”

  The little girl stood up, anxious to begin fishing. The boat rocked with her weight. “No. I want to do it.”

  “Okay. You can do it. Just be careful.” He opened the plastic bag containing the selection of fishing lures. “What color do you want?”

  “I want a red one.”

  Robert opened the bag of red fishing worms, handing one to his daughter. He held the pole steady while she slid the rubber worm on the hook. Once the worm was in place, he handed her the pole. “Remember how I taught you. Cast straight ahead, and then slowly reel the worm back in.”

  “I remember.” Krissy took the pole and cast it straight ahead, plopping the worm in the center of the clearing. She had been fishing several times, so Robert knew that she could handle a fishing pole without too much trouble. She did sometimes have problems, however, when it came to taking a fish off the hook. And sometimes she got tangled up in the weeds, but that happened to the best fisherman.

  Getting his daughter started, he handed a fishing pole to Janet. “Want me to put your worm on the hook?”

  Janet smiled. “I think I can manage.”

  “You sure? I’ll be glad to help.”

  “That’s all right. Toss me a red one.”

  Robert tossed his wife a red worm, and then got his own hook ready to cast. Within a few minutes all three of them were fishing, each being careful not to cross the other guy’s line.

  Even though they now lived in St. Louis, Robert and Janet had both grown up in the country. He was from the tiny town of Logan, Missouri, which had become rather famous with the discovery of an ancient Indian village, built in a series of caves and natural tunnels underneath the town. She had grown up on a farm just south of Chanute, Illinois, which was home to a large air force training facility.

  Both of them had moved to St. Louis in search of work, meeting one fateful night at a quiet little tavern not far from Busch Stadium. Nine months later they were married; two years after that they were parents.

  Despite being city dwellers, their country childhoods remained very dear to them. They both liked getting out of the city whenever possible, which was why they preferred fishing, hiking, and camping to taking cruises, dinning in fancy restaurants, or visiting theme parks.

  A couple of years ago, Robert began having thoughts that he would like to do more than just pay occasional visits to the country. He wanted to move back to rural America permanently, leaving the city behind him once and for all. He had grown weary of the hustle and bustle that came with city living. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much need of an advertising executive in the country, and he just didn’t have the skill, patience, or money needed to take up farming as a career.

  Janet was all for moving to a small town, because the rural lifestyle was much better for raising kids than that of the big city. But she made too much money as a real estate agent in the city to throw away her career, and paycheck, on a rural trek down memory lane. So they would have to remain city dwellers, at least for the time being.

  Robert had just reeled his worm back in and was about to toss it back out in deeper water when Krissy let out a sigh.

  “Something wrong, pumpkin?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You’re not getting bored. Are you?” Janet asked.

  “No. I’m not bored. Not yet,” she answered, slowly turning her reel to bring her red worm closer to the boat.

  Robert smiled. “That’s good, because it takes a lot of patience to be a good fisherman.”

  “I know, Daddy. I was just thinking.”

  “Thinking, huh? What about?”

  Krissy turned to look at her father, a troubled look on her face. “I can’t tell you.”

  He could tell something serious was on his daughter’s mind, and that she really wanted to talk about it. “Why can’t you tell me?”

  “Because it’s a secret.”

  Robert started to laugh, but coughed instead. “A secret? What kind of secret?”

  “A really big secret.” She stopped turning the crank on her reel, allowing her red worm to sink unnoticed to the sandy river bottom.

  Janet turned to look at her daughter, suddenly interested in the conversation. “Krissy, you can share your secrets with us. You know that. We’re your parents.”

  “Not this secret,” the little girl replied.

  “Why not?” Janet asked.

  “Because I was told not to tell.”

  A look of concern came over Janet’s face. Robert knew what his wife was thinking. They had both seen countless reports on the news: children sexually molested by teachers and day-care workers, being made to promise not to tell. Being convinced that their violation was a secret not to be told to anyone.

  “Krissy, who told you not to tell?” Robert chose his words carefully. He knew something was bothering his daughter and that she wanted to talk about it, but Krissy was afraid of breaking her promise not to tell. He also didn’t want to frighten her by showing that he was growing upset with the situation.

  “My friend told me not to tell.”

  “Your friend?” Janet asked.

  Krissy nodded. “My special friend.”

  “Does your special friend have a name?” Robert asked gently. “Surely you can tell us that. Their name wouldn’t be a secret. Would it?”

  Krissy was silent for a moment, obviously thinking things over. “I guess that wouldn’t be a secret. His name is Mansa.”

  “Mansa what?” asked Janet.

  Krissy shrugged. “I don’t know. Just Mansa.”

  Robert ran the name quickly through his memory, but didn’t come up with a match. As far as he knew, his daughter didn’t have any teachers named Mansa, nor were there any boys in her class with that name.

  “Is Mansa someone you know in school?” Janet asked. Apparently she too had drawn a blank on the name.

  “No. I just met him.”

  “When did you meet him?” Robert asked.

  “I met him yesterday, at...” Krissy turned to look at her father, perhaps aware that she had already said too much. “I met him at the cabin.”

  Alarm bells sounded in Robert’s head. They had been with Krissy all day, except when she was taking her afternoon nap. Then she had been in the cabin by herself, while they had been at the lounge talking with Ross and Mary Sanders.

  The alarm bells gave way to a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had something happened to their daughter while they were out drinking beer, visiting, and having a good time? Had a man gotten into their cabin, perhaps doing something unthinkable to their little girl?

  “Krissy, honey, this is serious,” Janet said, fear noticeable in her voice. “I know you promised to keep a secret, but I want to know about this man Mansa. What does he look like?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Robert jumped in, failing to hide the concern in his voice. “You said he was in our cabin yesterday, that he made you promise to keep a secret. Didn’t you see him?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Did he put something over your eyes?”

  Krissy laughed. “No, Daddy.”

  “Then why couldn’t you see him?”

  “Because he’s invisible.”

  What his daughter said surprised him, and it was a few moments
before he could find his voice. “He’s invisible?”

  The little girl nodded. “That’s right. I can’t see him, but I can hear him. That’s how I know his name. He told me.”

  Janet looked as shocked as Robert felt. “And what did Mansa tell you?”

  Krissy hesitated, then smiled. “He said I’m special, because no one else can hear him but me. He said that he is my special friend. That’s why he made me promise not to tell. He said no one would believe me if I said I had a special friend. He said not to tell, but I guess it’s okay to tell you. Just don’t tell him I told you. Okay? I promised to keep it a secret.”

  “Krissy, honey,” Janet said, wanting to put some logic back into the conversation. “I think maybe your new friend was nothing but a dream. I think maybe you dreamed about someone when you were taking your nap.”

  Krissy turned to her mother, shaking her head. “No. He’s real. Honest. It wasn’t a dream. I swear it.”

  Robert wasn’t sure what to say. This was something new for the trials and tribulations of parenthood. “Pumpkin, let me see if I’ve got this right. You met a man named Mansa yesterday?”

  She nodded.

  “And he’s invisible?”

  Again she nodded.

  “And he told you that he was your special friend, and that you were not to tell anyone about him?”

  “That’s what he said. Honest.”

  Robert rubbed his chin in thought. “And what are you and Mansa planning on doing together?”

  “We’re going to play, and sing, and read stories. That’s what special friends do.”

  Janet was still looking concerned, but Robert was starting to feel somewhat relieved. At first he was afraid that his daughter had been molested by someone named Mansa, but it was now becoming apparent that his daughter had simply invented an imaginary playmate. Krissy had always wanted a brother or a sister to play with, so she had compensated by inventing someone that only she could hear. While he wasn’t overjoyed about the development, he knew that such playmates were harmless. As a boy, growing up in a lonely rural environment, he too had invented playmates that only he could see.

  Robert looked around the boat, as if looking for someone. “Mansa isn’t here with us now. Is he?”

  Krissy giggled. No, silly. He isn’t here. I’d hear him if he was.”

  “Good,” Robert whispered. “Because I don’t think we brought enough food for four people.”

  Krissy giggled even louder.

  Janet cleared her throat, getting his attention. Her look told him that she was still less than pleased about Mansa, even if he was nothing more than an imaginary playmate. “Krissy, honey, why don’t you sit over here for awhile? I want to get some snacks, and talk with Daddy.”

  Switching places with her daughter, Janet pretended to be selecting a snack from the bag they had brought in order to talk with Robert.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, obviously angry.

  “What?”

  “This isn’t something to joke about.”

  “Relax. Krissy is probably just going through a phase. You’ll see. A lot of kids have imaginary friends. I even had a few of my own. It’s perfectly harmless, and it’s a great way to build the imagination.”

  “It’s not healthy,” Janet argued. “What if she starts talking to this Mansa when she’s in school?”

  “That probably won’t happen,” he whispered.

  “What if it does? What then?”

  “Listen, you had dolls as a girl. Right?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “And you spoke to them. Correct?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “And I imagine they spoke back to you when you were playing, at least in your imagination they talked. This is the same thing, just without the dolls. Krissy will talk with her new friend Mansa when she’s alone and bored, and forget all about him when she’s not.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Janet said, grabbing a pack of peanut butter crackers.

  “Trust me. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. I promise.”

  Less than an hour later all thoughts of invisible playmates were forgotten when Janet caught the first fish of the day.

  “Can we keep it? Can we keep it?” Krissy screamed as Janet brought the fish into the boat.

  “Keep it?” Janet asked, surprised. “Why do you want to keep it?”

  “I want to eat it,” Krissy answered.

  Janet and Robert were both big believers in the catch and release program, and rarely kept any fish that they caught. But Krissy seemed to have her heart set on having fresh bass for dinner, so they decided to keep the fish.

  Thirty minutes later their daughter was even more excited when she caught a two-pound bass of her own. It was the first real fish she had ever caught, and she nearly fell overboard in her excitement. Janet caught another fish shortly after that, and Robert also caught one, bringing their total number to four. Knowing they couldn’t eat more than four fish, they decided to call it a day and head back to camp.

  On the way back, Krissy babbled about fish and fishing. Not once did she mention her new invisible friend, so maybe she had already forgotten about her imaginary playmate. Maybe not.

  Chapter Six

  It was a little before twelve noon when they arrived back at the fish camp. Bringing the fishing boat to a slow stop alongside the dock, Robert tied up the boat while Janet and Krissy gathered up the fishing poles, lures, snacks, and supplies. The Styrofoam cooler was now considerably heavier with the addition of the four bass. There was also a funny smell to it that would probably never wash out.

  Lifting everything out of the boat, Robert went into the bait and tackle shop to turn in the fishing poles and get his deposit back on the boat. While he was gone, Janet and Krissy stood guard over the other supplies. Actually, Janet watched the snacks and lures, while her daughter kept a careful watch on the four fish, paying extra attention to the one she caught. The little girl was still tickled pink over landing her very first bass and just couldn’t resist the urge to open the cooler to look at her trophy.

  A few minutes later Robert returned from the bait and tackle shop. In his hands he carried a Polaroid camera and a sheathed fishing knife. “Ross said that Mary would be more than happy to cook our fish, but we have to clean them ourselves.”

  “That explains the knife,” Janet said. “But what is the camera for?”

  Robert smiled. “I told him that Krissy caught her very first bass, and he said that such a moment needed to be saved for all eternity. He also suggested having the fish mounted, but you won’t believe what a taxidermist charges to stuff a fish. Besides, you can’t eat it if it’s mounted on the wall. And you do want to eat your fish, don’t you, darling?’

  Krissy nodded. “With French fries.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Robert said. “So we’ll have to get by with just a snapshot. Go ahead and lift your fish out of the cooler, sweetheart, and I’ll take your picture.”

  Krissy did as instructed, holding the fish up high while her father took her picture. She insisted that he take two, just in case the first one didn’t come out. Putting the fish back in the cooler, she waited excitedly for the Polaroid to develop.

  “There. That’s a good picture,” Robert said, handing both photos to his daughter.

  “It sure is,” Janet added.

  “My fish is really big. Isn’t it, Daddy?”

  “Real big,” answered Robert.

  “Bigger than the fish you caught.”

  Janet laughed, and Robert cleared his throat. “Yes it is, you little show-off.”

  Krissy giggled. “I’m a better fisherman than Daddy.”

  “That’s enough of that,” Robert said, faking an angry tone of voice. He handed the camera to his daughter. “You take the camera back to Mr. Sanders, and your mommy and I will start cleaning these fish. Once they’re clean, we’ll take them over to the restaurant and have Mary cook them up for lunch. With
French fries and hushpuppies. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds good,” Krissy said. “I’m hungry.”

  Janet sniffed loud enough to be heard. “You might want to clean up a little too, Krissy. You smell like bass. That’s because you’ve been touching that fish of yours ever since you caught it.”

  She dug into the front pocket of her shorts, pulling out the key to the cabin. “Here. Take the key with you. That way you don’t have to come back. Drop off the camera, then go get cleaned up. And change your clothes. Think you can do all that by yourself?”

  Krissy nodded. “I can do it.”

  “By the time you get cleaned up we should be finished here, so just come on over to the restaurant.”

  “Okay, Mommy.”

  Krissy left the fish cleaning to her parents, and returned the camera to Ross Sanders. Mr. Sanders congratulated her on the fish she caught, taking a great interest in the photos. He even asked her if he could put one of them up on the wall, adding it to the collection of photos taken of other people with their fish. Krissy agreed, delighted to have her image added to the collection.

  Leaving the bait and tackle shop, she crossed the campgrounds to the cabin they had rented. It took her a few minutes fumbling with the key to get the door open. Entering the cabin, she closed and locked the door behind her.

  Krissy washed her face and hands in the bathroom sink. She then took off her old clothes, leaving them on the floor, and dressed in a clean shirt and shorts. Once dressed, she ran a comb through her tangled blonde hair and brushed her teeth.

  She thought about going back to watch her parents clean the fish, but there was someone else she wanted to talk to. She wanted to tell Mansa about the fish she caught, because you always shared things with special friends. She would bring along the remaining photograph to show him, and maybe one of her story books. Mansa said they could read together, so maybe he would want to read a little from her book. Just a page or two. Krissy knew she couldn’t be gone long, because her parents might get mad, but it wouldn’t hurt to read a page or two. That wouldn’t take too long.