ON A BLACK MOON SEA ~A Halloween Anthology~

We All Go Into The Water

"Matley goes into the water today."

She lay awake in bed, the sun poured in from the window above her bed. Her sheets soaked, the room felt wet and heavy. The blackouts lasted longer and longer, and even an open window couldn't cool the heat.

She could hear her parents speak down the hall, mostly a murmur of rising and falling voices, the stilted tone of parents trying to hide an argument. She only made out one sentence.

"Matley goes into the water today."

Matley turned nine three days ago. That was the age, that was his age, when the thirteen went into the water. Orlin's Sea, a small body of water in an overgrown cow pasture. No animals grazed there for years now. Once a large lake, now all that remained was an ever-shrinking pond. But the moniker remained. Orlin's Sea. The pond itself remained fenced with barbwire, a tall fence of rusted wire wrapped around metal posts.

But Matley is nine. In a few hours, they will open the gate.

In a few hours, she goes into the water.

Matley sat up and shifted out of bed, her feet hitting the floor with a thud. In the kitchen, the voices stopped. She could hear the footsteps coming towards her room, growing louder until her door flew open.

Her mother's smile showed every tooth. Must have been a bad fight, Matley thought.

"Honey! You're up. Well, today is the big day! Are you ready?" She beamed.

A really bad fight, Matley thought. Her mother left and Matley gazed around the small room. Bare walls, a small chest with a winter blanket tucked inside, and a single shelf with two stuffed animals, the fur long worn away. When children outgrew their toys, they passed them on to others. As her mother said, there used to be less things, more people. There used to be struggle. Despite this, Matley insisted she be able to keep these two. Each day, she expected to wake to an empty shelf.

She smiled. Maybe today would be good.

At the table, her dad forked the last piece of a soggy waffle, skating the piece of food over the syrup on his plate. He looked up her and smiled. He sniffed and motioned her towards him. Breakfast was sparse since the last of their chickens died. But today, there would be waffles. Bought food, a rarity. She enjoyed opening the freezer and seeing the box, so bright.

They saved them for today. Because today, there would be bought food, instead of black coffee and those thin, hard biscuits. Her father pointed out that they never went bad. How could they ever get worse?

"Sit down! We have waffles. Big day. You nervous?" He asked. He cleared his throat and sat his fork down.

"A little. Will everyone be there?" Matley asked. She pulled down on her pajama shirt to cover her stomach. She was outgrowing them, but the fabric felt soft and thin, broken in. She hated to see them go, passed down to another child in another family.

"Everyone," her mother said. She piled waffles onto Matley's plate and sat them on the table.

"If you're nervous," her Dad whispered "What if we ran away?"

"Could we?" Matley asked.

"No," her mother said. "No, we can't, Brian."

"Sure! You name it. We'll sneak out of here-"

"No. Stop, Brian. Just stop," she said.