The Midnight Hour & Other Scary Stories

Flood

One day, the dam burst. It swept through the valley, turning homes into watery graves in the blink of an eye. There was nothing that could be done for the people of that valley. Prayers could not stop the water or save those that were trapped. Buildings and souls alike were drowned in the dark water.

As the years rolled by, the valley became known as 'Remnant Lake' on account of the homes that had been left to rot beneath the surface. There were plenty of ghost stories people cooked up about that place. Some were true.

Rick figured he would put the legends to the test. He was a young man. Brash. Bold. A recipe for trouble. On a dare, he traveled to the valley and found a part of the town that hadn't been sunk; this broken collection of houses on the edge of the water. Many of them had fallen into disrepair and nature had greedily wrapped her fingers around their peeling edifices.

Dark windows watched him as he parked his truck and readied the boat. The dare was simple. He would have to stay out on the water for an hour. Honestly, it didn't seem like much of a challenge on the surface. There was nothing out here but ruins. What did he have to be afraid of?

But as Rick readied the boat, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. It was dark as pitch that night, with nothing but his flashlight to keep him company. As he slipped out over the black waves, Rick couldn't help but imagine that he might never see shore again.

That was silly, of course. He would prove to his friends that this talk of ghosts was nonsense. He steered his boat towards the middle of the lake. While the valley floor was deep in some places, it was higher in others. The skeletons of old buildings protruded from the depths like bony, crumbling fingers. Once or twice, Rick had the idea to shine his flashlight into the depths. The ruins seemed to go on forever into the watery abyss. He had to look away.

Maybe he had imagined it, but for a moment, Rick thought he saw a face in the water.

He scolded himself for being so jumpy. "It was only my imagination." He said.

Just when he had reached what he thought was the center of the lake, Rick heard something odd. It was a church bell, ringing mournfully into the night. The sound reminded him of weeping. It was a very sad chime and with each metallic groan, his heart wanted to groan with it.

Where was it coming from?

Rick cast his flashlight's beam over the murk. It highlighted the decaying summit of a church steeple in the distance. He steered his boat towards it, noticing that although he could hear the bell, he still could not see it.

The church had been placed on a hill, and while it was sunk in places, much of it was still standing. Rick brought the boat ashore, happy to be off the water. There was something eerie about the black expanse. Now that a fog had begun to creep across the surface, he felt as though it were somehow alive.

Maybe he could stay here for the remainder of his hour? Rick liked that idea. After securing the boat, he made his way for the church. The old building's doors were opened wide and filled with darkness. The bell rang loudly overhead, though again, Rick could not see it.

He looked into the church.

A heavy feeling of sadness pressed on his shoulders like cold hands. Something horrible had happened here. He tried to shove the feeling away but it returned, stronger than before.

Rick could suddenly feel eyes on him. They were coming from behind. Rick turned, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Was that someone standing on the shore? He didn't want to find out.

Against his better judgment, he decided to go inside the church. Even with his flashlight, the interior of the dead building was terribly dark and stunk of mold and rot. He didn't get very far before he felt the sadness with renewed force, this time heavy as a quilt.

The church bell rang loudly overhead.

As he swept his light over the pews, he saw, thankfully, that they were empty. But then, turning around, he caught the glimpse of something shining in the dark; a dull glint of aged bronze. Rick approached it, slowly. As he came closer, he realized that it was the church's bell. It had fallen long ago and was half-buried in the rotted wood floor.

The moment his hand touched it, the ringing stopped.

Now, it was very quiet in that dark chapel. The silence rivaled the sadness in which was greater. Rick's ears begged for a sound; anything to break the vacuum. Then, he heard it.

A soft weeping.

Rick's flashlight followed the sound to one of the pews. A woman sat only a few feet away. Her head was buried in her hands. She wore the clothes of a nun. She didn't look up at him, even with the flashlight on her.

A lump formed in his throat. The woman hadn't been there when he last looked.

"H-hello?" He said with a shaky voice.

The woman did not respond. She continued to cry bitterly. He thought he heard the crying of a baby somewhere in the distance.

He swallowed. "A-are you ok?"

"No one is coming." She said, voice cracking.

He froze on the spot. As the woman sobbed, he realized that something was wrong with her. Her clothes looked far too old and although the flashlight shone on her directly, the woman did not cast a shadow. Rick began to back away. His grip on the flashlight shook.

"No one is coming." She wept louder. "Won't someone help us?"

Rick was about to turn and run when the woman straightened. Without moving her body, her head slowly turned, swiveling to the point that her neck should have snapped. She stared at him with black sockets.

'Won't you help us?" She said in a horrible voice.

Rick quickly spun and pulled the light away from her. He ran out of the church as fast as he possibly could. All the while He could hear a baby's cry somewhere in the distance.

Dare or not, he wasn't staying here one moment longer.

Rick hopped into his boat and began racing back to shore. The fog had grown thick though and while he didn't want to, the poor man had to slow down to avoid hitting the ruins sticking out of the water. At one point, he had to stop altogether as a bank of fog rolled over the boat.

The fog was so thick that he couldn't see the front of the boat. He sat in the mists, waiting for them to clear.

Rick heard crying.

It was getting closer. Closer! Finally, in a fit of desperation, he started the boat again, praying that he wouldn't hit anything. The boat glided away from the fog and back onto open water. At first, Rick was overjoyed to be free from the mist, but then, he realized he was no longer alone.

Sitting in the boat was the nun. She held a baby in her arms, gently stroking the bundle of cloth.

"Thank you." She said without looking up. "Thank you."

Rick couldn't speak. He was too afraid. As the boat glided to shore, he could only watch them in silence. When he finally did manage to get safely to the other side, the woman and the baby vanished as quickly as they had appeared, like mist.

After that night, Rick tried desperately to tell his friends about what had happened, but, of course, they didn't believe him.

"Ghosts aren't real, Rick." They said. "Everyone knows that."

But Rick knew better now. When he had worked up the courage, he returned to the lake, if only to prove that he was telling the truth.

It was noon and the sun was blazing hot. Though there were no ghosts in sight, he did find something strange upon the rocky shore.

Rick would learn much later that no bodies had ever been found from the flood. It was a great mystery of that lake, as though the dark water wouldn't give up its dead.

But maybe the dead were just waiting for someone to help them across the water.

For there, on the shore, lying side by side was a pair of skeletons. One was an adult, with a rosary amongst the bones. And the other, to his horror, was an infant.