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“Wednesday, sweetheart, there’s a time and a place for beheading your brother. This is not that time, nor that place,” Gomez reached out, separating his 6-year-old daughter from his 3-year-old son with a firm hand.
“The sky is dark,” Wednesday replied, glancing toward the windows, “my books say night is the best time to commit a murder. Or do crime in general.”
“Your books aren’t wrong. Though, my dear, there is something called hiding in plain sight. Let me give an example of that for your story tonight,” Gomez said, following his daughter's gaze to the windows. The moon was full against the dark sky, its light gently sliding down the floor of his son’s room.
It was a tradition to hold his children in his lap and tell them tales of horror before they slept. Just like his father had sat with him and his brother and done the same, and his father before him and so forth. He had fond memories of gruesome tales of dismemberment that still lingered in his mind, waiting to be told once his children were just a bit older, and Pugsley wasn’t quite so wide-eyed.
“So, children, you know of the lake near our house, correct?” Gomez asked, Pugsley climbing into his lap, the boy resting his head against Gomez’s stomach. Wednesday crawled beside him, her eyes focused on the moon as her father pulled her in closer,
“We know the lake, father,” she said.
“Yes, it looks like it would be a fine spot for swimming, does it not?”
“Yes!” Pugsley said, putting two fingers in his mouth and smiling as one of the shadows against the wall took form and started to dance. It abruptly stopped when Gomez laid eyes on it.
“And yet we do not swim there, we walk down further to a different lake. I will tell you why now. Many years ago -”
“-How many?” Wednesday interrupted, “many years can mean almost any amount of time.”
“-A hundred years ago, my little cobra, the previous owners swam in that lake. They called it the Black Lake, like we do, because they couldn’t see the bottom through the murky water. They couldn’t touch it either, and no matter how far they swam it didn’t appear. But the children were good swimmers, so they didn’t fear drowning in it. And their parents didn’t either.”
“All lakes have a bottom,” Wednesday said, tracing her fingers against the floorboards. Pusley giggled for no apparent reason, wiggling his toes.
“Of course, my little storm cloud. The lake does have a bottom, just no one has ever reached it,” Gomez chuckled, kissing her head. She stiffened like she always did, then relaxed after a moment. “Now, there were two children, a girl and a boy, just like you two. They often invited their friends over to swim. One day, five total children got into the lake to swim. Four got out. A little boy had gone beneath the surface, to see if he could touch the bottom. He never swam back up. Everyone tried to look for him, but they couldn’t swim deep enough. No body was ever found.”
“What happened to him?” Wednesday asked, staring intensely at him. She either made intense eye contact or avoided it altogether. She’d been that way since she was a new baby, who wasn’t even supposed to hold people’s gazes.
“Nobody knew. Nobody swam in the lake ever again. But that wasn’t where it ended. People nearby reported hearing a howling noise every night. Like a restless spirit. Or a wild beast. One day, the little boy went walking alongside the lake at night. And he vanished, just a bloody shoe found in his place. The girl reported seeing scales in the bushes before the family moved away. Then the Addams family took over. We had no problem with the lake. But perhaps there really is a creature in there, just waiting for its next target. And since it seems to love children the most… perhaps it’s waiting for a new little girl and boy,” he finished. Pugsley snored in response, Gomez chuckling. He lifted up his sleeping son once Wednesday exited his lap, laying him down in his tiny bed and tucking him in.
“Father?” Wednesday asked, tugging on his sleeve.
“Yes?” He turned around, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake his son.
“Were there any other signs of the creature in the lake?” Gomez paused. He’d made the entire story up, of course. A boy had actually almost drowned in the lake, and it was quite deep, but he had swum in it before. There was a bottom. The only reason he didn’t let his children swim in it was because, well, they were still very poor swimmers. He’d picked the story out specifically to keep them away from the slippery, muddy shore. One could easily slide down if they weren’t too careful.
“Oh, yes. Dead birds in the trees, dried blood on the ground, and more haunted screaming,” he said.
“What about the scales? What did they look like?”
“They were… green? Run along to bed now, death trap, it’s late.” Wednesday stood still for a moment, then zoomed off, Gomez smiling and leaving to join his wife in bed. Her face still had the ability to make his heart jump, even after years of marriage and two small children.
“Are the children asleep?” She murmured, rolling over to face him.
“Pugsley is, and Wednesday is in bed at least,” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek.
“Good.” And it was just them at that moment. Evenings were their time together, where the never-ending daytime stream of, “WednesdaywedonotthrowbooksPugsleydon’tyoudaretouchthatyoungman,” finally settled. And Gomez was lost in his wife’s beauty and strength all over again. She was his everything. They rested their foreheads together, Morticia moving closer and
“-Father I cannot help but wonder about the scales you describe,” Wednesday stood in their bedroom doorway. He let out a long, exhausted groan. “What did they feel like? What shade of green were they? There are many shades of green, my book said so.” Gomez buried his face in his pillow, Morticia rising to her feet and walking over to their daughter without a sound. Gomez grinned. She would have made a brilliant spy.
“Wednesday, darling, it’s simply too late for questions…” Gomez turned his head from his pillow to watch Morticia take the child’s hand and lead her away.
Well, night was usually his and Morticia’s time.
“The scales, father, did they look like this?” Wednesday lifted up the book she was reading during lunch the next day. Gomez glanced over the page she had flipped to,
“Perhaps.”
“I researched scales that were green with a blue tint, because of the water aspect of the attacks,” Wednesday flipped the page in the book, “these are dragon scales.”
“Dragons aren’t real, Wednesday,” Gomez said, pushing her untouched plate closer to her.
“You said that Great Aunt Sofia’s ghost wasn’t real. And then she was there haunting the kitchen and banging pots and pans,” Wednesday crossed her arms after laying her much-loved book against the table.
“I didn’t think she would manifest so quickly!” Gomez exclaimed, aware that most of his in-depth arguments were now held with a precocious six-year-old, “most don’t. Forget the scales, my little rain cloud, eat your lunch before it grows legs and walks away. Look, your brother is already dealing with that,” he said, watching Pugsley stab a carrot with a small knife.
“I’m going outside,” Wednesday said, her lunch forgotten.
“Stay away from the Black Lake!” Gomez called, getting no response. He mentally patted himself on the back. His story would probably be enough to keep the children away from the lake altogether. They weren’t afraid of death or ghosts or weapons like most children. But they still carried a basic fear of monsters. Monsters that they didn’t know about, anyway. He continued on with his day, the lake never crossing his mind once for the rest of it.
There were pictures of a sea dragon hung up in every room of the mansion when he returned. He took one off of the wall, staring at it. The crude crayon drawing and shaky writing were definitely the work of his elder child. Pugsley still tried to eat crayons.
“What…?” He said as Morticia walked by, Pugsley at her feet. She briefly glanced over the drawing,
“I simply don’t ask anymore.”
“That seems like an effective method of parenting.”
“I find it very effective,” she said. He didn’t argue. Wednesday had gotten her superior debating skills from someone, after all. He looked at the drawings again, shaking his head fondly. He walked off to find something to eat, only to be ambushed by his daughter. “Yes, deathstalker?”
“Did you know that dragons commonly leave their prey in trees? And they smear blood across the ground as a territorial marking.”
“That’s lovely,” he said, digging through the kitchen.
“And they can hold their breath for days on end.”
“Amazing. You found this all out in 24 hours?” Wednesday paused, then nodded, the slightest hint of pride flickering across her face. “Go play, child. Practice your knife throwing, I’m sure your brother will jump at the opportunity to be target practice, he’s quite talented at that already.”
“Yes,” Wednesday said, running off at top speed. Gomez let out a satisfied sigh once he had found a proper meal.
He didn’t think about the dragon again for a week, despite the constant outpour of questions he received from his daughter. He had larger things on his mind. He didn’t think about it until he came home and Morticia was waiting for him at the door.
“Gomez,” she said, her voice strained, “I can’t find Wednesday anywhere.” He frowned,
“Did you check in the closets? I found the children lurking in one last week.”
“I’ve checked everywhere.”
“I’ll look around the house,” he said, lifting up Pugsley and kissing his head before setting out. His mind raced. He’d already taught Wednesday basic self-preservation skills, should she ever get lost in the forest. She would be fine for at least a week if they ever truly lost her. But he also generally didn’t want to lose his six-year-old.
He walked the house in a circle, not seeing any trace of her. And then, he remembered all of their conversations about dragons that week. His heart started beating rapidly. He ran to the lake.
“WEDNESDAY?” He shouted, “WEDNESDAY?!”
“Father?” There was a voice from just beyond the trees, at the shore of the lake. He ran to it, Wednesday giving him a wide-eyed look from the edge of the lake. She moved to stand up, a book in the grass in front of her.
And then she slipped in the mud and went sliding down the edge of the lake. She was sinking before he reached the edge. She didn’t struggle either. Just gave into the black water. And that was scarier than anything else.
“Wednesday!” He tore off the jacket he was wearing and threw himself into the lake. Yes, he had touched the bottom of it before. But he had been young then. And it had been over nine feet down. All he could do was reach out blindly through the murky water for his little girl, while desperately trying to keep himself afloat. His lungs burned. Due to extreme luck, he reached out and felt another being. A scaly one. He quickly retracted his hand, yellow eyes peering at him through the dark water. They grew closer and bigger.
And then his daughter was released into his arms. What felt like the longest snake in the world brushed against him as he swam up toward the surface. It should have been hard to swim up while holding another person. But Wednesday still didn’t struggle. And it was all too easy.
He gasped as they finally could take a breath, pulling them to the nearest tree. He collapsed against the grass once they were out, Wednesday coughing weakly into his chest, spitting up water on him. He didn’t move. It wasn’t the first time she’d thrown up on him, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. Once she was breathing steadily, he took a deep breath, then sat up and grabbed her by the shoulders.
He never raised his voice at her. He’d known he would do his best to avoid so from the moment he first stared into her dark, solemn eyes. Very firmly, he asked, “what were you thinking? You could have died. And I like you better alive, my child.”
“I wanted to find the dragon,” Wednesday rasped, not meeting his eyes. She dug her tiny hand into a bush, pulling out a scale, “see? It’s here,” she said.
“There are no dragons in the lake, Wednesday.”
“Then what was in there with us? It wrapped itself around me. All of the evidence that I’ve gathered and that you’ve told me lead to it.”
“I don’t know what was in there, Wednesday,” Gomez sighed, lifting her into his arms. She was still so small. “It could have been a dragon, I suppose. It could have been a snake. Why does it matter? Nobody has been hurt here. We’re all safe. Unless we go playing at the edge of the lake.”
“Fine,” she said, “I know what I saw, even if you deny it.” Her high-pitched voice was quite comical when paired with her extensive vocabulary. Gomez was usually amused. But right then, he wasn’t.
He held his wet and shivering child to his chest and walked back towards the house, to reassure her frightened mother and brother.
And he wondered just how far was Wednesday willing to go to fill her natural hunger for knowledge. Just how many risks she was willing to take. Just how much of herself she was willing to lose. His greatest fear from then on would be his daughter’s potential early grave.
At that moment, though, he took a deep breath and focused on the feeling of her in his arms, yearning for time to still.