Andrea's touch

1: Lakelair Avenue

Leaves flurried under the wheels of her bicycle as she pedalled down the dirt road, tracing the long driveway that led to 5 Lakelair Avenue.

The beautiful three storey mansion overlooking the lake, hidden in the surrounding woods, finally revealed itself in the evening glow that bounced off the glistening water.

Andrea smiled, living near a lake was always a dream of hers. She leaned her bicycle against an ancient oak tree at the edge of the driveway.

She checked her PWG issued tablet again, as expected there was no signal. Thankfully she had scribbled down this donor's information on the back of her map before leaving town. After three weeks of working this job, she knew better than to rely on internet connectivity.

Andrea steadied herself, taking in a deep breath to calm her nerves. She only had to canvass one day of the week, the other days she was safely stashed in front of a computer in the office, dealing with membership data and cold hard numbers. With this last house, she could bike back to her car and head home.

Smoothing out the wrinkles and wiping her sweaty palms on her black leggings. She knocked on the front door in the rhythm taught by her boss, loud enough to be heard inside the house yet playful enough not to frighten whoever was on the other side.

The wooden door creaked open. An old woman with pink rollers in her hair, wearing a floral gown peeked her head out, squinting at Andrea suspiciously.

Barbara Leathwhite was a stalwart supporter of PWG, known for her generous donations year after year. Despite the isolated location of her house, canvassing her residence was always a priority due to her consistent generosity. Although cycling through the woods amongst the bloodthirsty mosquitoes wasn't fun, at least getting a large donation from Barbara was pretty much guaranteed.

Seeing that Barbara wasn't going to speak first, Andrea introduced herself with a warm smile as per PWG guidelines.

"Good afternoon, I'm Andrea from PWG, the Public Welfare Group. Are you familiar with us at all?"

Recognition flickered in Barbara's eyes when she focused on the obnoxiously bright pink T-shirt Andrea was wearing as part of her PWG uniform.

Barbara let out a delighted chuckle, "Oh it's the public welfare group! You guys are back again this year." Her shrill voice disrupted the perfect tranquility of the surrounding lake.

Barbara nodded in approval giving Andrea a thumbs up, "You kids spend your summer cycling around the counties knocking on doors in this heat, you've got my praise," her voice was tinged with grandmotherly fondness.

"Just wait here a minute, honey. I'll go get my check book."

With the help of her walking stick, Barbara wobbly retreated back into her home, leaving the door ajar and giving Andrea a full view of the interior. As expected of a woman her age, every possible flat surface was decorated with a white lace doily, giving the otherwise modern mansion a 1950s charm. The rear of the house was lined with large glass windows that looked onto the lake, she even had a small dock with a boat bobbing gently in the water. Maybe fifty yards into the lake was a small private island, covered in the same trees that surrounded this house, almost concealing the quaint brick cottage on the island in thick foliage.

An icy wind blew in from across the lake, sweeping over Andrea's body, chilling her to the bone.

Out there on the island, the shadows cast by the trees grew darker and longer. With the help of the setting sun, the shadows slowly crept over the lapping waves, inch by inch slinking towards her, until the ghastly shadows formed an inky black path between her and the island. She winced—the sound of the island's rustling leaves infiltrated her mind, resonating in her eardrums. Barely audible above the thunderous leaves was the faint sound of a girl screaming in terror.

"Your check book's in the bedroom, not the kitchen." A man's voice interrupted, wrenching Andrea from her trance.

Suddenly the island was back to normal, the shadows retreated and the screams vanished as if she'd never heard them at all.

Andrea gripped the edge of her clipboard as Barbara's son emerged from the adjoining hallway. Stepping into the foyer, his had hands remained in his pockets with his shoulders hunched over, making him look like someone who spent many hours a day hunched over their laptop. In the dimly lit space, His presence was unsettling . There was something unnerving about the way he moved, a subtle hint of strain and repression lurking beneath his quiet exterior.

Barbara laughed at her forgetfulness as she turned around and headed in the opposite direction, "Thank you Jack. And Let that poor girl inside will you, give her a glass of water." Her voice echoed as she disappeared into an adjoining hallway, leaving Andrea alone with Jack.

Usually Andrea would be more than happy to accept the kind gesture. Biking and then pitching PWG's proposal for hours at a time left her with a constantly dry itchy, throat. However, now, she did not want to set foot in this house, and she definitely did not want to get any closer to that island. She brought her clipboard to rest just under her nose, covering her mouth; hoping to hide her increasingly erratic breathing from the Leathwhite mother and son duo.

Before she could refuse, Jack brought her a glass of water.

"Here, you must be thirsty." His long pale fingers were wrapped around the glass so tight that his knuckles turned white. Why was he so tense? Andrea could only suppress her frown. Since it would be rude to refuse when he'd already poured a glass for her, she reluctantly reached for the cup. In the brief moment that her fingers grazed against his, a wave of terror washed over her as an ear-splitting scream pierced through the tense silence.

In her mind's eye, she saw a young woman running through the trees, clad in frilly white pyjamas, bloodied and bruised as she cried out for help, desperately trying to get away from something in the darkness. She came to a halt at the edge of the island, panic rose in her chest as she desperately looked for something, anything. At her wits end, she ran to the lake, desperate enough to enter the pitch black water in the dead of night and swim for her life. Before she could reach the water, a shadowy figure lurched forward from the darkness and dragged her back into the woods with a savage brutality that made Andrea turn pale.

"Are you alright?" Jack's watchful gaze bore into Andrea's pale face from behind his rectangular glasses.

A moment ago, he didn't pay much attention to her. Holding the same nonchalance as the people who viewed PWG canvassers as in memorable yearly occurrences appearing on their doors. However, now that Andrea's face had gone pale and her breathing quickened, her discomfort evident, Jack's expression changed. Something was brewing behind his beady eyes—intrigue.

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, Andrea managed to croak out a feeble 'fine', quickly pulling her hand back. The chilling remnants of the vision lingered, permeating dread through her body. She wanted to escape from this place and scrub her mind clean of what she'd seen and heard here. But abruptly leaving could invite suspicion, and Andrea knew by the way Jack was staring at her, she had to maintain her front of normalcy, no matter the cost.

"Here you are," Barbara finally emerged from her bedroom, waving the check at Andrea.

"There's no need to read the script, dear. I'm too old to listen to all that, I trust you're doing good work."

Andrea managed to hold back a sigh of relief. Though the script detailing this year's bee-saving initiative was only two minutes long, she felt as though she might collapse if she stayed there any longer.

"Thank you, Mrs Leathwhite. We'll see you again next summer," Andrea barely gave her departing greeting before taking the check and jogging back to her bicycle.

Stuffing the tablet and clipboard into her satchel, she mounted her bike. As Andrea pedalled away, she heard Barbara questioning her son as to why he didn't give her water.

With 5 Lakelair Avenue finally out of sight, Andrea's composure crumbled. Tears collected in the corners of her swelling eyes. It had been years since she'd seen such a vivid vision, this being the most disturbing one she'd ever had.

As she rode away from Lakelair Avenue, the woman from her vision materialised again, standing amongst the thick foliage, her blond hair dyed red with blood and dirt, her white pyjamas torn to crimson shreds, her body littered with gruesome wounds. Her vacant gaze followed Andrea as she disappeared onto the main rode, a silent plea echoing through the still woods.