The Old Lady’s Tale III
Later that evening Elizabeth limped home cursing the boy for what he had done. The chill wind blew her wet hair into her eyes as streams of anger ran down her face. The night was deep and dark, and the girl did not notice the inky apparition traveling beside her.
Elizabeth started, noticing the slate colored companion that lurked at hand. It spoke to her in a soft murmur, “Fear not, Elizabeth. I am here to help,” and with slick certainty the girl acquiesced, accepting its arm to help her walk.
Elizabeth began to relay her story to this night stranger and her anger grew. The dark one understood and soothed her wounds while guiding her through the unseen terrain back to her cottage. The slender figure stopped and faced Elizabeth. In whispered omens it told her to lead the boy to the lake two days hence.
Limping the few stairs to the cottage door, Elizabeth turned abruptly, “Thank you,” she hesitated, for no one was there, “Sister…”
A storm was beginning to brew the likes of which had not been seen in the lake country for some time. Two days since the shadow sisters spoke, Elizabeth followed Horace from his hovel, skirted around him, and allowed him to see her. She then lead him to the same shores where he had harmed her, never pausing to look back. Wind gusts rippled against her clothing and eyeball sized raindrops spattered with slapping promise.
Elizabeth turned and pretended to see Horace for the first time. She screamed with delicious might and taunted the boy, throwing rocks and yelling obscenities.
Horace ran towards Elizabeth, but she turned and fled, on a surprisingly healthy sprained ankle, toward a large tree along the shoreline. Horace’s face followed her, lit up with a maniacal sneer amidst the flashes of lightning. His footsteps echoed the pounding of thunder as he roared his anger in pursuit.
The nimble girl reached the tree and climbed as the storm unleashed itself upon the surrounding area. Torrential rain blanketed the landscape as the winds howled further. Lightning crashed in sizzling proximity as Horace reached the tree and began to follow the girl up its slick surface.
Elizabeth shimmied her way out over a huge limb, raging lake water dancing below. Breathing heavily, Horace realized she was trapped, and he smiled as he began to crawl out after her. As he neared the taunting siren, he looked up and for a brief moment thought he saw a shadowy figure coiled at the end of the branch where the young girl had been. A flash of lightning and the image was gone, but a strange look remained in the eyes of the young girl. The grin of white teeth she revealed sent a shiver down Horace’s spine.
An innate sense of impending danger made the boy hesitate. He looked back over his shoulder and froze in terror. The shadowy figure was clinging to the tree where the branch joined the trunk. Within a heartbeat, a bony arm raised into the storm filled sky and came arcing downward, shrieking in the night. The black hand passed through the massive limb without the slightest interruption, and both Horace and Elizabeth fell toward the water below.
As he fell, Horace peered into the water and let out a scream that shredded his vocal cords as he covered his head and crashed into the water.
Elizabeth fell in silence and let the water swallow her whole.
Inky thick moments passed and then Elizabeth rose from the surface and hauled herself on to shore. She watched the lake for several minutes, but there was no sign of Horace. The young girl smiled an aged grin, turned, and walked away, disappearing into the storm.