The Keeper of Whispering Waters
As darkness descends on the town of Whispering Waters, a half-moon rises, hiding its incomplete side behind the lighthouse. From the light room, eerie green light flickers in and out of view, never steady or emanating from the dusty and cobwebbed lamps, but from a madness that crawled all over the town and trapped them in a memory, through an infestation of maggots that filled their brains.
The tide rises, covering the tower in chilling water as waves crash on the jagged rocks. Under the light room is a chamber, an old bed chamber no one has inhabited in years. The walls are spitting out chains, and shackles wrap around feeble bodies that once shook in horror within that damp room.
Lining the walls are diminutive half corpses. Handcuffs hold bony wrists together, and nooses around necks suspend them, as if they were standing on their own. – it’s all a make-believe game. They’ve all become a row of imaginary friends and painted on the wall is a man with a lolly, leading them all to some long-lost safety over an imaginary road, painted by streaks and streams of blood.
Among them rest corpses bathed in darkness, and crows crash against the stony walls of the tower, driven to madness by the rotten smell. In the kitchen, only a floor below, curled up against a splintering wooden countertop is a girl. Her small chest heaving as she attempts to stifle her trembling breath. The desire to shriek is only contained by the fear of being found.
As the half-moon settles in the sky, a dreamy fog drowns the town. Parents wait patiently for pattering feet to come running down the stairs and fill the house with little laughter again. The maggots awaken, infiltrating their minds and spilling out of their eye sockets. Shining over the town is the sickly green light. Tiny visions in cartoon pajamas appear again. They all look so real – to them, they all are so real. Mothers comfort themselves at just looking at tiny bodies they can no longer hold. Fathers find pride in throwing a ball that’s never caught. And an eerie, green smile cracks on an entity’s empty face which looks on through the fog on the window.
A girl cradles her body in her little hands. Her blonde hair freed from the plait her mother had twisted that morning. She can see her breath in the frozen air. Her mind returns to those hands reaching for her slim arm – his flesh no more where the vultures had gnawed it. He had stumbled upon her as she crept up the stairs – he had stared at her through the windows, his dark eyes caressing her body; chilling her soul. She first saw him through the looking glass. He had no eyes, but he looked straight at her. Her screams made the ravens perched on the old lantern catch flight. She believed him a mirage until his half-body, half-corpse hand reached for her. His presence was cold, but when his bony fingers caressed her skin, she felt it stinging, burning.
She ran from him. Those heavy brown boots stepped on her dress, tearing it – trying to trap her. She’d entered looking to escape into the magic of her book yet found a horror story lurking in the shadows. Suddenly, the girl hears heavy footsteps and chains running against the chamber floor. As the steps get louder, she is filled with a fear that calls for her to get out. Her bare feet are the only part of her that’s left intact.
Led only by the sound of his chains and the forewarning green glow behind her, her little feet stumbled down the cold stone stairs. Her hands ran alongside her, brushing the frigid walls of the lighthouse. Her eyes could make out nothing but what the dim moonbeams entering through the window, like beautiful thieves, let her see. The descent down the staircase was accompanied by the melody created by his chains and her pounding heart. A shadow grew before her as she reached the end of the steps. She pushed a heavy door and escaped toward the town. Unbeknownst to her, her escape is only a whim of the Keeper.
A bare wood opens before her. Frost covers the naked branches, undressed just like all the tiny bodies. Between branches and broken ice, her bare feet are bleeding, leaving a trail behind her, as she reaches the town. Dirty and disheveled, she finds herself alone on familiar streets. Empty streets. Lights flicker from inside the houses where chimneys are coughing up smoke from living rooms come to life once more. Under the half-moon, she could swear she still heard chains, whispers – the madness of Whispering Waters.
It’s as if a familiar song is playing through the air. She listens but cannot see what the maggots hide from her. She peeps through windows and sees nothing but joyful adults staring at nothingness, yet that nothingness fills a void in their lives. She searches window by window until she reaches the little blue-grey windows of her own home. Her shaking hand opened her family home’s door to find a living memory of her brother. His clothes were tattered, like hers, and suddenly, the mystery was revealed to her. They had all been in that lighthouse, but only she had escaped. No maggots whispered in her ear, the Keeper revealed it all to her in hushed tones.
In a broken speech, she revealed all to her parents, but they daren’t believe anything that had the power to take their precious boy away. “Sloan,” they’d said, “your brother never died! How can you make up such cruel lies?” As if instructed by an imaginary friend, the ghost boy began to wail, an eyeless teddy bear clutched in his blood-stained hands. And as her parents reached out to comfort him, Sloan heard the deep laughter of the Keeper. They were content living in a nightmare, and she had nowhere to go but back to that damp chamber in the lighthouse and trace her brother’s blood-stained hands.
Back in the discomfort of the lighthouse, rats and roaches tickled her feet as she climbed the spiral staircase. Her feet were wetted by blood that oozed from the mouseholes. She found herself in that damp chamber again. The smell of decay permeating the air. She found her way toward the small cot, led by nothing other than her small hands brushing against bones, and chains, and hardening flesh, and darkness. The Keeper revealed more to her in that instant. A group of children building castles out of boxes, singing nursery rhymes, and drawing crooked smiles was now before her – staring at her were the afeared eyes of her brother. A green shadow stood over him, he clawed at the green light, clawed until his fingernails bled, then – vanished.
Shaken by the memory, yet in darkness again, she lay her small frame back on the mattress where springs coiled out of the fabric and pierced her skin. She closed her eyes and waited. Above her, she could hear the chains being dragged over the wooden floor of the light room. Outside, the waves could be heard bursting against the crumbling stone. As she heard footsteps and dragging chains come closer, her eyes were tightly pressed shut. She held her breath, but her heart beat louder and louder. The rhythm matched the heavy steps inching closer and closer to her. A creaking door opened way to the smell of Sulphur. Suddenly a chill ran up her spine as cold chains tied her down – imprisoned her.
A cold breath that froze her body ran up her neck as cracked lips met her vulnerable skin She felt a heaviness in the translucent form that was now on top of her. Her legs trembled beneath him as he whispered for her to open her eyes. Before her was a terrifying creature, a nightmare that was hard to conceive as human long ago. His eyes were empty and black, chewed away by the same maggots that infested the town. A bullet hole where blood still spurt forth was an open wound on his temple. A deep gash crossed over his left eye and curled his smile almost to his ear.
She felt his bony hands ripping off what had been left of her clothes. She couldn’t escape him this time. To stay was to find truth. To find truth was to be saved. His chains wrapped tighter around her wrists, until her hands were numb. His ghostly hands cast aside a rose dress, and left her body exposed under his green light. She felt sick. She also felt the empty eyes, that were in the same room as her, looking on. Watching her. Suddenly, she could hear other hearts in that room – some which had still been faintly beating when she’d first broken free. They all beat the same way hers did. The sound grew louder and louder. Intensifying like violent drums. She screamed as something invaded her body, ripping it through. She felt herself being filled by roaches and maggots.
The ghastly face before her regurgitating a thick snake into her gaping mouth. From down below she felt another wormy figure enter her body. She felt the two snakes crawling inside of her – a mating dance that would forever be etched on her skin. An aching, evil, twisted feeling ripping into her bones. In the room were no more screams, or heartbeats, or rattling chains. It was absolute silence. It was empty. All was empty except for her seven-year-old body which was filled with maggots and roaches, and snakes.
He’d filled her body, she felt roaches and maggots gnawing at her organs, and the snakes slithered, pushing her fragile bones against her cracking skin. And it was as if her skin threatened to burst because it could not contain her bones any longer, everything else was taking their place. The cracked face was gone, she no longer felt his heavy body. “Open your eyes, Sloan.” She did. She freed herself. She wept. She walked off. She found her way to the top of the lighthouse. The ghostly Keeper was gone.
His light was cast over all the town where his maggots were infesting every open ear with lies of the children they’d lost. And the dead children were now piles of maggot and roaches that slithered towards their parents’ beds. The more the parents believed, the more the chains that contained the Keeper weakened.
Her body was engaged in a different dance now, a part of her was swayed by the Keeper’s haunting tune, while another was raging. She crawled up the flight of stairs, fighting the snakes ripping through her skin. Heaving her chest, she found herself at the Keeper’s feet. He gave her another broken smile. She pushed herself off the floor and they struggled. The war was two against one: two Sloans, one Keeper – but one Sloan, was now part Keeper, and Sloan felt the odds turn against her. She grappled at the snakes and the roaches crawling inside her. Her fingernails digging and picking at her skin, ripping the flesh open – setting herself free. The more that fell out of her, the weaker the Keeper became.
Something in her stomach started to bubble, gurgle, murmur, ripple. Her small frame bent over and the snakes came pouring out, going straight for the Keeper. They wrapped themselves around his ankles and knocked him over. It seemed as if a part of Sloan had crawled inside them too. Two Sloans, one Keeper – no more was part of her Keeper. One Sloan, one Keeper.
Suddenly, she remembered his breath on her neck, the weight of his body, and the ripping feeling inside her as he forced himself in. None of the others had what Sloan did, the ability to actually feel him. With the snakes tangling his feet, Sloan reached for the Keeper’s chains and they tumbled onto the floor. They struggled. He flung her against the lantern and as her body crashed, breaking the glass and the bulb, shards pierced her skin – they pierced his too. The maggots and roaches inside her had connected them, but her body was fighting them; fighting him.
She pulled on his chains once more and wrapped them around her hands. He used her trick against her and she crashed into the looking glass, now a pile of shards on the splintering floor which dug into her skin. She looked into the void of his eyes and he revealed the parents, joyful in their delirium; brains being eaten away by the maggots. A fire filled her body, and desperation gave her a fearful answer she could no longer run from. No Keeper, One Sloan. A crashing wave whispered in her ear – called her to the waters that had seen her birthed. Refreshed by the splashing water, their battling ensued once more. They struggled, dancing in the broken room, and as he shoved half her body out the window, she pulled on his chains once more.
They both fell slowly into the sea beneath them. As she felt the rush and the pressure of the wailing winds, she felt the Whispering Waters calling to her, enveloping her. Her small hands let go of the wicked chains and at once, Sloan’s body became seafoam nearing the end of the fall. The Keeper, however, was betrayed by his Whispering Waters which gifted him Sloan’s human properties, and as his body plummeted, it was pierced through and through by the jagged stones that broke the waves. One Keeper, No Sloan.
At once, the eerie green light was lifted from the town, replaced by the smell of seafoam and roses. The maggots inside the inhabitants of Whispering Waters vanished, and before them, their precious children crumbled into piles of maggots and dust. Parents wept for their children once more, but the smell of the sea begged them to go to the lighthouse. The Keeper’s body was long gone by now, but inside his bed chamber they found the tiny bodies they’d mourned in empty caskets.
Nooses were cut, and the bones and bodies cradled in living arms. The Keeper’s playhouse was no more. When hysteria subsided, they counted and recounted, but never did they find Sloan. Her mother, in a final hopeful attempt, crept up to the light room. She found a mess of glass and splinters, but as she peered out the window, eyes closed, and felt the breeze on her face – she felt her…in the wind, in a wave, in a whisper – say her name: Sloan.
