The Black Lake: Tales of Melancholic Horror (4 page)

Troy shouted, “Bullshit! I called him back! That wasn't your brother! Who was it? Huh? Are you cheating again?”

“N–No... No, sweetie, I was just... I was...”

The floorboards rattled as Troy viciously stomped, throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child at a toy store. He yelled, “Bullshit! I knew you didn't change! You never change! I knew it! Is... Is she even mine?”

“Wha–what?”

“Is Cathy even mine?! Is that my daughter?
Is she mine?
”

Gloria's eyes swelled with woeful tears as she glanced every which way, searching for an escape from the verbal assault. She struggled to respond. Her throat was clogged with the vile feeling of fear and anxiety. Her teeth chattered, her bottom lip quivered, and her body shuddered from the apprehension.

Troy lifted the knife to his shoulder and said, “I knew she wasn't mine... I knew you cheated...”

Gloria grimaced from the emotional pain as she asked, “Wha–What? What are you going to do? You–you're going to... to
kill me?
Really?” Tears trickled from her eyes like a garden sprinkler as she wildly waved her arms and said, “No, no, no. You didn't even give me a chance to explain, Troy. You... You can't do this to me. I'll call the cops. I'll...”

Troy gazed into Gloria's gloomy eyes and said, “It's too late for that...”

Troy pounced on Gloria. The bed groaned from Troy's leap. He gripped her throat with his left hand and pinned her onto the bed. He clenched his jaw and frantically sobbed as he repeatedly stabbed Gloria's torso. Gloria squirmed and whimpered from the pain. The knife plopped as her torso was drenched in blood. Troy wept into his bloodied hand as he stood from his brutally slaughtered wife.

He indistinctly muttered as he slowly drifted away. He traipsed down the hall, then entered the neighboring room. Through the yelling and weeping, Cathy continued her peaceful slumber. A child unaware of her mother's demise at the hands of her father. Troy limped through the dark room and quietly whimpered as he examined the pink walls and stepped over the stuffed animals and dolls. He stood over his sleeping daughter, then lifted the knife over his head.

As he gazed at her sealed eyelids, Troy whispered, “Your mother did this to us... I'm sorry, sweetie.”

***

“
Troy.
Come on, Troy, wake up,” Cain said as he shook Troy's limp body. Cain lightly slapped Troy's cheek and said, “Troy, it's time to go. You've slept too long. Your time's up, buddy. It's finally your time to go. I know you've been waiting for this. Wake up.”

Troy's eyelids fluttered as he slowly awoke. He grunted and groaned as he sat up on his bed. He gently massaged the back of his head with his fingertips as a striking pain echoed through his frail body. Cain's eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the blood smeared on the wall and smudged on Troy's fingers.

Like a scolding parent, Cain tightly gripped Troy's wrist and asked, “What the hell happened to you? What did you do to yourself, man?” Troy coughed and grimaced as he shook off Cain's grip and staggered to his feet. Cain glanced at the stained wall and rationalized, “You must have passed out... Damn it, I told you to get some sleep, Troy.”

Knocking erupted from the doorway. Cain and Troy turned towards the entrance and spotted Warden James Stone at the foyer of the chamber. Stone stood five-eight with a roly-poly figure. An officious smirk was plastered on his drooping face. His thinning white hair was boyishly combed over to the right – a hopeless attempt at covering the bald spot towards the center of his dome. He wore a navy two-button suit.

Stone coughed to clear his throat, then stepped into the room. He asked, “Officer Cain, is the inmate ready for the execution?”

Cain bit his bottom lip and shook his head, then said, “No, I really think we should delay it. He hasn't had his final meal and he's got a gash on the back of his head. I think...”

Stone interrupted, “Did you hit him?” Cain shook his head. Stone continued, “Good. He opted out of his final meal. As for the gash, we're not going to delay an execution like this over a self-inflicted wound. It doesn't work that way. They can kick and scream, but we still have a duty to perform. Bring him out. We're ready for him.”

Cain reluctantly nodded as Stone departed. Cain beckoned to the similarly dressed correctional officer in the hall as he helped Troy regain his balance. Troy was still dazed by the blow to the head and the mystifying nightmare. The trio were choked by a bleak ambiance as they exited the cell. Walking a mere 20 steps to the right, Troy was dragged to the execution chamber.

The room was modest, resembling a doctor's office in appearance. Yet, the atmosphere was funereal instead of accommodating. The spotless white walls and white tile flooring gleamed from the fluorescent lighting. There was a gurney with spring-green padding towards the center beneath a ticking clock on the wall. Beside the gurney, there was a metallic table with several medical tools. There were several windows on the wall across the foot of the gurney – impenetrable glass barriers leading into the observation room.

Cain whispered, “This is it, Troy. You going to do this the easy way?” Troy intensively stared at the gurney and nodded. Cain swayed his head into the lethal injection chamber and said, “Alright, go ahead and jump up on there. We'll strap you in.”

Troy slothfully trudged into the room, dragging his feet towards the gurney. He hopped onto the mobile bed, then rested his head at a 45-degree angle. He squinted as the blinding light dawned onto him. Cain walked to Troy's side, then tightly restrained his ankles, thighs, stomach, wrists, and chest with black straps.

Troy was apathetic to the procedure. He glanced at the neighboring observation room. Men in suits and women in dresses sat and watched. Troy's forehead creased – he did not recognize anyone in the crowd. The spectators resembled a crowd of people awaiting a shirt-and-tie theater play. Cain stood at Troy's side as the physician and medical staff scurried into the room. Troy's arms were swabbed with alcohol as the staff prepared the IVs for each arm.

Cain whispered, “You still have an opportunity to repent, Troy. You can still apologize for everything. You don't have to end your life like this, you don't have to die with your sins. You don't have to die lonely.”

Troy smirked and asked, “I won't be lonely if I repent? Is that what you really believe?”

“Sure. If we truly live hand-in-hand with a spiritual realm, maybe they'll forgive you. Maybe they'll be waiting for you on the other side. Maybe it won't be so lonely, Troy. What do say? Huh? Will you apologize for your actions?”

Troy gazed into Cain's sincere eyes, then glanced around the chamber. He stopped as he spotted his wife and daughter in the observation room. Gloria and Cathy donned their bloodied nighttime attire as they watched Troy with derisive sneers plastered on their faces. Their eyes were empty voids and their bodies were pale and icy.

Troy turned towards Cain and said, “What good does that really do me? Believe me, I know the spiritual realm very well. I
know
an apology won't quench their thirst. I've known that very well for a
very
long time. They want this, they
love
this. I won't give them the pleasure of repentance on top of my execution.” Troy turned his head towards the ceiling and whispered, “I do not repent. I do not repent. I do not repent...”

As Troy continued to mutter, Cain leaned away from him and ran his fingers through his hair. He slowly shook his head, lost in thoughts of regret and sorrow for another man. Warden Stone's polished dress shoes clicked and clacked as he entered the room. He grabbed a microphone from the wall, then brought the device towards Troy.

Stone said, “Before we proceed with the execution, it's only fair to give you one final opportunity to speak your mind, Troy Walker. With that said, be wary of your final words. Do you have a final statement?”

Troy nodded as Stone held the microphone to his mouth. Troy grunted, then said, “My victims suffered violent deaths at my hands. There's no doubt about that. My victims wish to torment me. They want to haunt me, but I will
not
suffer.” He gazed at the apparitions in the observation room and continued, “Mine will be a painless death. You lost and I won. I am unrepentant. When I see you in Hell, I'll kill you again and again. Now, let's get this over with.”

Stone furrowed his brow as he slowly strolled away. Troy planted his head on the elevated gurney as he stared into the crowd. He deviously grinned as he watched his wife and daughter. The smirk on Gloria's face had changed into a seething scowl. Stone signaled towards Cain –
begin the execution.
Cain inhaled deeply, then sighed as he began the process with the assistance of the medical staff.

As he stared at the ceiling, Troy whispered, “I am unrepentant. I am unrepentant. I am...” The first drug successfully streamed into his body, walloping him with sudden fatigue. As he stood at the doorstep of death, Troy whispered, “I am
unrepentant.
”

With a cheerful smile plastered on her face, Marsha Collins stood over the kitchen sink and gazed into the backyard. Bustling children scampered about, slipping and gliding on the moist grass as the sprinklers doused the lawn with glee. The kids raced for a turn on the water slide. The adults surrounded the sizzling grill and the hardwood patio table, chattering and bantering. The festive music danced through the party, blending seamlessly with the jovial ruckus.

Marsha leaned on the counter and whispered, “Happy birthday, sweetheart...”

Marsha stood five-five with a slim figure. She wore a white slip-on patio dress and white sandals. Her silky black hair reached down to her narrow shoulders. Her lustrous brown eyes were bright enough to illuminate the most despairing chasm at the bottom of the ocean. There were small speckles plastered on her defined cheekbones. From the kitchen archway, Alan Collins tapped the wall and interrupted the ruminative moment.

Alan asked, “What are you still doing in here?” Marsha nonchalantly shrugged and sighed. Alan huffed, then said, “You should be outside, sweetie. You should be enjoying the day with everyone else, not locking yourself up in here. You know, she only turns one once, right?”

Alan walked to Marsha's side, then peered outside. The couple gazed at their beloved daughter, Lily Collins, as she tottered towards the water slide. The tender baby's heartwarming giggle was sweeter than a pile of sugar drenched in honey. Her elephantine ears protruded from beneath her wavy black hair. Her sparkling brown eyes glimmered with innocence.

Alan wrapped his arm around Marsha's shoulder and said, “I don't know what I'd do without her. She's a beauty, isn't she?”

Marsha nodded and responded, “She really is a blessing. I just... I just can't believe she's here after... after...”

Alan sighed and shut his eyes, then said, “Listen, Marsha, you can't dwell on that forever, okay? You can't keep thinking about it. It was years ago. We're better now. We know better. We know how to take care of ourselves.” He pointed towards Lily and said, “I mean, she's perfectly fine. Lily's perfect, no health problems at all. And, everything will be fine when we're ready for another.”

Marsha smirked as she pulled away from Alan's grip. She carefully examined her husband. The man stood a sturdy six-one. His straight black hair was parted to the right. She glanced at the stubble on his chiseled jawline – the five o'clock shadow she adored. Alan wore a blue polo shirt, khaki pants, and brown boots. A simple but fairly attractive man.

Marsha nodded and teased, “Already planning an entire family, are we?”

Alan planted a kiss on Marsha's forehead, then said, “Well, it's up for discussion, I suppose.” He chuckled as he sauntered towards the back door, then said, “You should really come out, Marsha. It's your day as much as it's hers.”

Marsha leaned on the counter and responded, “Okay, okay. I'll be out in a minute, I promise.”

The sink generated a garble of noise as water spurted from the faucet and splashed on the dish. Marsha scrubbed the dish, softly humming as she killed time. Abruptly, a barrage of thudding footsteps and a young girl's joyful giggle echoed into the kitchen from the neighboring hallway.

Marsha furrowed her brow as she turned the faucet handle, then trudged towards the archway. The center hall harbored the archways to the kitchen and living room, and the staircase to the second floor. The hallway was empty, all of the guests celebrated in the cramped backyard.

Marsha dried her hands with a white hand towel and shouted, “Jenny?! Jenny, are you in here?” There was no response. Marsha said, “It's okay if you're running around in here. You won't be in any trouble, sweetie. I'm not going to tell your mom.”

The home was eerily silent. There wasn't a faint whisper or even a howling floorboard throughout the house. Marsha tilted her head like a confused pup as she contemplated. Her mind wandered, thinking about the children at the party – thinking about the source of the ruckus. She struggled to put a name to the giggle.

Suddenly, Marsha gasped and hopped as Kathleen asked from over her shoulder, “What are you still doing in here?”

Marsha gripped her chest and shut her eyes as she turned towards the disruptive voice. She said, “God, mom, you
scared
me. What are you doing sneaking up on me like that? You know I hate that...”

Kathleen chuckled from Marsha's response. Her mirthful laughter reverberated through the empty home. Marsha shook her head and rubbed her moist brow with her fingertips as she recomposed herself. She gazed at her mother in disbelief.

Kathleen Holloway stood five-three, five-six with her white high heels. She wore a beige skirt down to her knobbly kneecaps and a yellow shirt. Her short blonde hair, clearly dyed, barely reached down to the nape of her neck. Her glistering brown eyes were surrounded by blatant crows' feet. Yet, Kathleen still glowed with youth.

Kathleen smirked and said, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was just coming in to check up on you. So, what are you still doing in here, sweetie? There's a party outside, you know. Everyone's been asking about you.”

Marsha nodded, then explained, “I was going, but... I thought I... Well, I think Jenny is running through the house again.”

Kathleen furrowed her brow and squinted towards Marsha, clearly thinking deeply. She said, “That's nonsense, sweetie. Jenny is playing outside.”

“Well, maybe... maybe it was Crystal or...”

Kathleen shook her head and said, “No, no. All of the children are out on the slide. I'm absolutely positive. We took count. You should be out there, too.” As her daughter hesitated, Kathleen grabbed Marsha's forearm and said, “Come on. You're getting bent up over nothing. You need some fresh air.”

Marsha nervously smiled as she nodded and followed her mother's lead. Her hazy mind wandered between thoughts, snowballing out of control at a breakneck speed. As she stepped outside, the balmy sunlight caressed her body. Lily's blissful laughter erupted over the crowded family. Suddenly, Marsha's dreadful thoughts were whisked away...

***

Marsha removed her earrings and placed them on the neighboring nightstand next to the white baby monitor. She shuffled in her pink flannel pajamas, helplessly searching for the perfect position to offset the blistering summer heat. She planted her firm buttocks on the black bed sheets, then loudly sighed – a clear cry for attention. Alan smiled, rolled his eyes, then strolled away from the dresser mirror.

Alan asked, “What is it now, Marsha?” Marsha pouted as she gazed at her lap and fiddled with her thumbs – the anxiety was blatant. Alan sat beside her on the bed and said, “Come on, sweetie, you know you can tell me anything and you know I'll find out if you don't. Did something happen?”

Marsha gazed into her husband's glistering eyes. Alan's eyes sparkled with unwavering sincerity and compassion. She could see his words were true. Yet, the thought of being labeled insane lingered at the back of her head.

Marsha inhaled deeply, then said, “I heard something today...”

“What? Come on, what is it?”

“It was a... I don't know, really. I thought I heard a girl inside the house, but everyone was outside. I swear, it sounded so real. She... She ran down the hall and giggled.”

Alan gently chuckled as he rubbed Marsha's shoulder and said, “It was probably nothing, sweetie. I mean, it probably came from outside. The windows were open, the kids were loud... It was nothing, trust me.”

As Alan was about to stand, Marsha turned towards her husband. She gripped his white t-shirt with one hand and planted her other hand on his blue flannel pajama bottoms. Alan could see the grave intensity in her gloomy eyes.

Marsha said, “I'm serious. I heard someone inside the house. It didn't come from outside, I know that for a fact. It was in the hallway, I heard the footsteps and the laughter.”

Alan sighed, then responded, “Maybe it was one of the neighborhood kids. They just didn't want to get caught crashing the party. I mean, I would hate it if they broke into our house, but there's no one here now, right? They didn't take anything, either. I really don't think it was anything, Marsha. It was nothing.” He kissed his wife on her rosy cheek, then said, “Let's sleep. You just need some rest.”

Marsha smiled as she found some comfort in Alan's words. Alan returned the beatific smile, then rolled across the bed towards his side of the mattress. Marsha couldn't help but chuckle at Alan's kittenish manner. The pair turned off their respective bedside lamps, then slipped under the bed sheets.

Within a minute, Alan snored like a bear in hibernation. Marsha couldn't catch sleep as quickly as Alan. She was too slow to seize the lure of slumber. She squirmed and flopped like a fish out of water as the seconds turned into minutes.

Suddenly, a buzzing sound emerged from the baby monitor, like the static from a television. Peculiar snickering followed the buzzing noise. Marsha furrowed her brow as she sat up in bed and grabbed the baby monitor. A soft, indistinct female voice reverberated from the radio.

Marsha whispered, “What? What is that?”

Suddenly, the tender voice said in a dubious tone, “Ma? Mom? Mommy?”

Marsha whispered, “
Lily?
”

She covered her mouth with her trembling hand as she gently chuckled. She glanced back at Alan as he slumbered. She thought about Lily's suddenly expanding vocabulary and Alan's sleep –
he's missing out.
She was gratified by the message.

With a gleeful grin from ear-to-ear, Marsha quietly stood from the bed, then strolled towards the doorway. From the door, she glanced to the room to her left – the baby's room. She grabbed the wooden handrail of the adjacent staircase and sauntered towards the neighboring bedroom. She could hardly contain her excitement.

As she approached the room, Marsha whispered, “Lily, mommy's here...”

Marsha gasped, then hyperventilated upon looking into the dimly-lit room. Her eyes widened and she staggered in reverse as shock and terror struck her like a semi-truck. The wooden handrail groaned from Marsha's weight and force. A young, barefooted girl stood over the crib, standing on a stack of children's books and towering over Lily's slumbering body.

The girl, no older than five years old, stood three-six with a pusillanimous posture. She had glistening brown eyes, glimmering with tears like the eyes of a punished pup. Her wavy black hair reached down to her shoulders. Her white sundress rested on her shins, swaying with even the slightest movement. She had a sullen expression on her soft, round face. Her skin and lips were pale. Tears streamed down Marsha's crimson cheeks as she struggled to speak.

Marsha's teeth chattered and her bottom lip quivered as she stuttered, “You–You–You... Wh–Who–Who...” She shook her head, then lurched towards her bedroom. From the doorway, Marsha shouted, “Alan! Alan! Someone's in the house! Alan! She's in Lily's room!
She's in Lily's room!
”

Shocked by the sudden awakening, Alan tumbled out of bed. Upon spotting his distraught wife and comprehending her forbidding words, Alan bolted into the hallway. He rushed into Lily's room, then searched every nook and cranny.

Lily's shrill cries echoed through the room as she wiggled in her bed. Marsha slowly followed behind as she wildly sobbed into her hands. Her eyes widened as she found the intruding child had vanished with her frantic pleas for help.

Marsha shook her head and murmured, “She was... She was really here.”

Alan shut the closet door, then glared at Marsha. He sternly said, “What the hell do you think you're doing screaming like that? I thought something serious happened, I thought someone was in the house.”

Marsha nodded as she grimaced and said, “There was. It was... There was a little girl standing over Lily's crib, I swear.” As Alan shook his head and glanced down at his bare feet, Marsha gripped his forearm with both hands and pleaded, “You have to believe me. Please, trust me, sweetie. There was someone in here.”

Alan pulled away from Marsha's grip and walked towards Lily's crib. He lifted the innocent baby from the bed and gently hummed, soothing her with a father's caring embrace. Marsha ran her fingers through her hair as the haunting image of the melancholic child was burned into her mind.

Alan whispered, “You can't keep doing this, Marsha. You can't wake Lily like that. You can't wake me like that. I have to go to work in the morning.”

As Lily slowly dozed off, Alan returned her to the crib. Marsha stood in silence as she gazed at the pile of books near Lily's place of slumber. Alan snapped his fingers in front of Marsha's face and waved his hands, hopelessly trying to wake her from her mysterious trance.

Alan said, “Marsha, you're... you're thinking too much. You need to relax, okay?
Okay?
” Marsha simply nodded. Alan said, “I'm going back to bed. You coming?”

Marsha shook her head and said, “No, I want to sleep here tonight. I think it'll be good for me. It'll... It'll help me relax.”

Alan sighed, then nodded. He strolled through the doorway, then returned to his bedroom. Marsha trudged to the other end of the room, keeping her eyes locked on the pile of children's books beside the crib. She sat in the white rocking chair at the farthest corner of the room. Rocking back-and-forth in the chair, she sniveled as she watched her sleeping daughter. Slowly, she dozed out of consciousness.