The Prompt
The prompt for this story was to create a horror story around the idea of waking up alone in a boat.
My approach
Luckily, deep water, especially at night, is one of my big fears, and the image of someone waking up alone, surrounded by black water, is terrifying to me. From that image, I worked out how we got into the lake and why we were alone. From there, the idea of the Kelpie struck. Me, as it's one of my favourite mythological creatures from the British Isles. I wanted to experiment with using smaller sentences and paragraphs in this piece to try and build tension and add a disruption for the reader. It's not perfect, but I'm happy with it as a piece to develop further in the future.
The result
We had ridden for three days before we reached the lakeshore. I’d heard tales about this place from my wet nurse.
‘Cursed,’ she called it, full of mermaids and shapeshifters who drowned those lost on the water. I never believed her, but now, stepping into the unstable rowboat moored on the lake’s edge, I wonder. The water is deep. The light barely penetrates the cloudy depths. Who knows what could be down there?
I shouldn’t be thinking like this; I am a rational woman − at least I was before I ran off with a thief.
We had no choice but to cross the lake. My brothers couldn’t be more than half a day’s ride behind us. I dare not think about if they catch us.
The stern of the boat has only a small bench – a plank of wood, really – to sit on. Just enough room for me and my skirts to ease into. We cast off, and James rows.
I soon fall asleep to the sound of him humming folk songs.
I wake up to silence and fog. We must have rowed into it shortly after we cast off. It is thicker than anything I have seen in the lowlands. I can’t see beyond the prow of the boat.
It’s cold.
The humming has stopped.
‘James,’ I call out.
Nothing. The fog swallows my calls and throws back a heavy silence.
My stomach hollows. I’m alone. Alone on a boat riddled with woodworms on a lake still as glass and as black as ink. I need to get back to shore. My brothers may find me; they will take me home.
I manage to free my skirts from where they are wedged and stand up. Every movement makes the boat rock a little more. I catch my foot on the hem of the dress and tumble over. My face lands painfully against the wooden floor. I sit silently, the boat rocking on silent water as I steady my breathing. I hear something.
Tapping
Something is tapping.
Tapping on the bottom of the boat.
In the water.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Moving across the hull. It gets closer. Louder. I can feel the vibrations in the wood under me until it’s right by my ear. Only a plank away.
It scratches past me like a fingernail dragged slowly across a table, trying to score through the bottom of my little craft. To get me. To take me. To pull me into the water.
I daren’t move. If I stay quiet, it might move on.
I listen until the boat stops rocking, and the tapping vanishes and doesn’t come back.
I get up slowly, careful, this time, trying not to upset the boat. I make it to where James was sitting earlier. I only need to row in one direction until I reach the shore. Plenty of people live around here. Someone will help me. Father used to row us down the river at home. It never looked that hard.
The oars are not in the boat.
…
Not in the water.
Where was he? Did he take the oars? Folktales swim into my head.
‘Things live in the lakes, Isabel. Never go there; not alone.’
Were they just stories?
There had always been tales of people vanishing in and around these lakes.
‘Kelpies,’ horse-like creatures of the exotic. Shapeshifters who lure you to the water with their songs and then drag you to the depths. They preyed on the lost and those hopelessly in love.
I was both.
I took the rosary from around my neck and blessed myself with the cross. Something – hooves? – clipped the side of the boat.
'Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.’
It tapped again. The boat rocked with the force of it. I jump back as the taps become louder. I slip off the bench and slide towards the back of the boat. Each movement made the tapping and banging louder.
Under me.
Next to me. Something is trying to climb in.
‘Lead us not into temptation,’ I speak louder, trying to block everything out.
‘For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory. I grip my rosary tighter, hoping
for all the help of Heaven.
Tap.
It’s underneath me.
The boat rocks harder than it did before.
‘For ever and ever… Amen.’
The scraping stops. I sit alone and cold, waiting for the rocking to cease.
It was gone, but I have to be sure. One look over the side would be worth the risk. The
water is still calm but no longer empty.
Something is floating just under the surface.
‘Hail Mary, full of Grace. Hail Mary, full of Grace. Hail Mary, full of Grace.’ The
words bring me comfort as I reach out towards the white something. I have to lean out further to reach it. Further and further. The thing in the water becomes clear.
A face.
My thief’s face, staring at me with empty eyes. Most of him is under the boat, his in a rope. I lean forward to set him free.
The boat capsizes around me. I land on top of his lifeless form.
Cold.
Darkness.
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