Hot Springs Horror #NaNoWriMo2020

○t h i r t e e n○

Sun blared over my face and I cupped a hand over my forehead. I was laughing, basking in the rays, imbibing in a colorful cocktail while lounging in the hot springs. The water was steamy, soothing, melting on my skin. My cheeks were hot, and sweat drizzled down my chin, my neck, nestling between my boobs. I wore the same bathing suit—the long, coral top and the fitted boy-shorts—and the surrounding area looked the same as before.

But something wasn't right. How was I here? Hadn't I just fallen asleep? Hadn't the sky shut off, the stars spreading across its darkness, the wilderness awakening around me? Weren't we on our camping chairs in front of a dwindling fire, huddled together so as not to lose sight of one another? To stay warm?

"Dream away, sweet girl," said a voice, fluttering near my ear like a fly.

"Huh?" I sat up straight, spilling some of my booze into the springs. The liquid was sloshy, icy, like an alcoholic smoothie; I didn't remember bringing anything like that with me during this trip. "What?"

The girls were sitting across from me, but neither reacted to what I'd heard. In truth, neither reacted to me—they were busy giggling at each other, cheering, clinking their drinks and chugging them down. It was as if I was invisible to them. And they were clothed—wearing their actual bathing suits, and not in the nude.

"What the fuck is going on?" I sniffed at my drink and recoiled—it was coconut-flavored, and I hated coconut.

"You're dreaming," said that same voice, buzzing near my other ear. It was a soft tone, but tinged with malice; mocking and mystifying. "Imagining what could have been."

"What could have been?" I pinched myself, hoping to wake up, if this was indeed a dream. I didn't like this fantasy of what our trip might have been like. Why was I thinking of this?

"You and your friends... you're in trouble."

I gasped and spun to my left, hoping to see who was whispering such ominous threats. But no one was there—just the stone encircling the springs, a few butterflies flapping over my sandals, and in the distance, three perfectly set-up tents and two vehicles without slashed tires. "Could this shit be real?" I peeked back at my friends, who were now splashing each other. "Was the murder stuff the dream instead? Did I fall asleep in here?"

It didn't make sense, but I was willing to accept it, if it meant the boys were alive. If it meant we weren't stuck in the middle of the desert, unsure if we'd survive the night.

"No, this is the dream, dear." The voice was deeper now, harsher to my eardrums. As if a bug slithered inside and scratched at my skin, indenting words into me.

"Fuck." If this was the dream, then I needed to wake up. If we'd all fallen asleep around the campfire, it was risky. Someone was supposed to be awake at all times—someone was supposed to guard us, and I wasn't sure whose turn it was. I didn't remember anything.

"Your friends and your foul mouths insulted the hot springs," continued the voice, croaking, creeping into my brain and flashing its sinister warnings, causing me to blink, to close my eyes, to grit my teeth. "You've offended the spirit world, harmed those who dwell in our parallel after-life. You dismissed our existence, and now you will pay."

"Pay?"

My eyes opened to an overwhelming, heavy obscurity. I was no longer in the water, no longer half-dressed, no longer guzzling down slushy alcohol. The dying fire flickered before me and I squinted at the other chairs around us, at the hills across the way, and at the navy blanket overhead.