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Someone was knocking on the door – or so he thought. The rain was relentless that night, pounding hard as if an uninvited, persistent guest seeking shelter. Sleep eluded him, as did any coherent thought. Uncertain, he hesitated to get up and check the door to make sure the knocking wasn't a figment of his imagination playing tricks on his tired mind.
Finally, compelled by his restless curiosity, he rose from his bed to investigate. He dressed and cautiously crept to open the door with trepidation. To his surprise, nothing but the rain greeted him.
As he started closing it, he could make out distant singing, a lament carried by the stormy wind. A woman's sorrowful voice. The melody, broken and distorted, wormed its way into his mind. It was as if the heavens themselves wept, touched by the lyrics. But he knew it was as absurd as someone knocking on his door in the dead of night.
Yet, the singing persisted, proving itself to be pretty much real, echoing from the depths of the surrounding woods. Could it be someone lost in the wilderness? Not that he cared. There was some undeniable chilling allure about the voice. It was chilling him to the bone. Or was it the rain?
Curiosity took over. He could not sleep anyway.So he stepped out into the forest, following the mysterious voice, fascinated to discover its owner. Who would be out in the forest in the pouring rain at such an ungodly hour?
He caught a glimpse of her, but doubt crept in as she disappeared behind the trees. She had seen him. He knew she did.
"Come out," he called, undeterred. "I mean you no harm."
The chanting resumed, this time farther away. He sighed and continued his pursuit. Each time he got closer, it faded back into the trees, drawing him further into the forest. Growing impatient, he finally decided to turn back, only to notice that he no longer knew where he came from. Panic mixed with a growing sense of dread.
When he turned around, she was standing in front of him. Now he could see her. Her long, unkempt hair cascaded down her tattered white dress. There was something familiar about her rotting, pale face, framed by a crown of withered flowers.
"Who are you?"
She replied with an enigmatic smile and beckoned him forward.
He had no recollection of how he got there, but suddenly he found himself deeper in the forest, at the edge of a dark pond. Its depth stretched endlessly, like a vast bottomless hole – a gateway to hell. He held his breath as he recognized the place. Then he turned and saw the pale woman again. She smiled cryptically, silently. He barely recognized her deformed, decaying features. No, it couldn't be, could it?
"You're dead," he breathed in realization.
She nodded in agreement and took a small step toward him, causing him to retreat. Her deadly pale face was expressionless, impossible to read.
"I saw you die," he insisted, as if she disagreed with his previous statement.
She took another step in his direction. He looked back, taking in the gate to hell.
"This is where it all happened," he remembered, speaking more to himself now.
She nodded again, closing the distance with another step. He slowly approached the black water.
"You drowned here," he said, turning to her.
Instead of another nod, her smile faded as she simply shook her head. No. He knew more than he wished to admit. Somehow she knew. They both knew. She wanted to hear him say it. The truth that had been unspoken for years.
"Right," he murmured, glancing back at the smooth surface of the dark pond before calmly correcting himself, no sign of remorse on his face. "I let you drown here."
The cold flesh brushed against him as she reached out and forcefully pushed him right into the pond. She no longer sang and he no longer spoke as the water engulfed everything, drowning out all sound. In the midst of his struggle against the dark, watery abyss, memories of the past came flooding back – a youthful, beautiful face from the past replaced the pale, decaying one.
The memory was fresh in his mind. Submerged in the water, her long hair floated around her head like a halo. Bubbles escaped her lips as she struggled to scream, but the water only filled her mouth more and more, so he could no longer hear her feeble excuses.
She swore repeatedly that she loved him and him alone, but he could not bring himself to believe it. He witnessed the lingering gazes of other men on her. She was undeniably beautiful. Too exquisite to share with anyone else, perhaps even too perfect for him. He didn't deserve her. No one did.
The thought consumed him until one fateful night when he finally drowned her, ensuring that she would never betray him. It felt right. Her hands flailed, desperate for support. Finding none, her nails dug deep into his arms, drawing blood as she clung. He felt her grip weaken and held her underwater even after she could no longer hold on. And the terrible truth?
He didn't regret it.
Her sad, crooked smile never reached her hollow eyes. Even in death, she was too beautiful to be his, forever beyond his reach. Now her cold, bony fingers gripped his forearm, leaving bruises that would never heal as he exhaled the last of his air through bubbles. Beneath his legs was the bottomless black hole that would pull him down, perhaps all the way to hell. He deserved it, he thought, and it was the last thing he could remember before succumbing to the same fate.