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It Is Coming
The lake water rippled in the cold wind, which rustled the leaves of the trees, a scream to the wanderer’s ears.
Walking daintily, on the soft, slick grass, the girl circled the water, picking at the dead flower in her hands. Her hair was down, and she wore a white gown, the hem splattered with mud. Another breeze blew past, driving her hair madly into her tear streaked face.
A sob escaped her solemn mouth. Like the terrified cry of a trapped animal.
There was no escape, she knew, it was coming. Creeping up behind the unsuspecting, it would grapple with her and bring her down, all for the thieving sake of its own pleasure.
She was alone, and awaiting its coming.
A panic seized her, and she ran towards the old dock, running out to the waters depth. It was broken, and in some places missed boards, like an old man missing teeth. Jagged and rotten, it creaked as her feet padded onto its splintered surface, kicking up ancient dust.
Her heart beat quickly, and she placed a hand on her tattered gown. The dirt on the hem began to turn blood red, as an owl wailed in the trees. The girl beat her chest and tore at her hair. It was coming.
The wind picked up and mad her temporarily lose her balance, and for a second, she thought it had arrived. But her hand reached out and grabbed the rail, calming her raging body.
The water, lapped at her feet, threatening her with its stinging coolness, and for a second, she thought it had arrived. But she inched backwards, away from its edge, and everything felt alright.
A howl from deep within the forest, made her skin itch and crawl with fear, and for a second, she was sure it had arrived. But it disappeared into the forest, leaving only the wailing owl to cry for her.
The dark of night descended, as the cold wind picked up and screamed at the girl.
“It is coming!”
The girl cried with fright and clutched herself, crouching in a ball and hiding her face.
It was coming. She knew well it would arrive. Yet the constant ache of want could not be driven from her, as she faced a lonely and cold night. Her tears stained her dress and cheeks, dropping like silent pleas, to the planks of the old dock, who groaned with its burden.
It was coming–It was!–She could feel it. It was coming! It was coming! It was......
A low moan split through the air, making the girl, slowly, slowly, lift her head up from her arms.
A black shape, indistinct and shapeless, moved towards her, swaying with the wind, but bent on its course. Another moan.
The girl was crying and screaming, and stood on her feet shaking with fear. Trapped on the dock, like a hare caught in a trap, hopeless and vulnerable.
The shape descended quickly, almost near the dock now. The moans, oh! And the screams, the horrid screams she could hear.
The water rippled, and faces appeared, warm and smiling, beckoning, inviting her in. The girl was mesmerized, staring at the faces appear and disappear in the water.
The shape moved ever closer, almost to the edge of the dock. It let out the loudest moan yet, grabbing the girls attention, reminding her of its coming. It’s hand were reaching out towards her, smoke-like and transparent, with a smell over powering and surreal.
The girl screamed with fear, as the shape opened its mouth and revealed fangs as transparent as its hands. It moaned and roared at the same time. Causing the very blood of the girl to freeze.
The lake water rippled, the faces called to her, appearing not so nice to her eyes now. Angry and pupil less, they groaned and cried, calling her to them.
Stuck between the two, the girl shook and screamed and wailed on and on. Her body quivered with rage and fear, her mind had lost itself. She had inherited a monster inside, and it was destroying her slowly. Breathing was difficult, her body was collapsing, her mind a frozen wasteland.
The girl saw the shape and faces coming for her, and reached her hands skyward, screaming for mercy.
The old wood underneath the girl, gave out, and her scream was cut short, as she plunged downward, feeling the cut of wood on her body, as she sunk into the frozen water. Her eyes were still upturned as the water enclosed around her, and pieces of wood were driven into her body.
Then her eyelids fluttered and she sunk deeper still, leaving everything behind.
The night sky sparkled, and the calm lake sat still and beautiful, reflecting the stars on its glassy, dark surface.
The old dock groaned no more, leaving the silence of the forest and lake undisturbed. Except for the wail of an owl, who cried for the maiden, now in the lakes grasp. Deep down, in her watery tomb, she was undisturbed by anything, a shadow soon forgotten.
It had arrived and now, it was finished.