LOBBY | EXCURSIONS | STORE | APPENDICES | CONTACT

Yuki: A good late evening to you all. Thank you so much for joining us again. We’re finally closing in on the signal that’s had us stumped for some time now.

Assistant: Got it locked now. Ready when you are.

Yuki: You don’t seem confident at all.

Assistant: I mean, all the previous attempts we’ve not seen a single trace of the human torch. Everything shows here as positive in letters and numbers, but the second we step into The Void, nada.

Yuki: It is strange. Well, let’s not waste our time. Only one way to find out.

***

The time between Kathryn Roberts fumbling for her keys at her doorstep and running back out of her townhouse in a panic was approximately forty-five seconds. From the time she dialed triple-0 to a police cruiser pulling down the driveway was just under six minutes. And then another thirty minutes before the cops left without finding anything amiss and left Katy feeling both relieved and embarrassed.

Constables Jacqueline Pari and Michael Bevan comforted her upon arrival and brought her down from near-hysterics.

‘—on the kitchen floor and then there was a creak from upstairs.’

‘Calm down, Miss Roberts,’ Constable Pari put her hand gently at Katy’s back. ‘It’s okay. We’re here now.’ She led the distressed woman back over to the car while Bevan walked slowly around the side of the complex to ensure no one came out the back way. Which would have been difficult to miss anyways, the rear courtyards each had tall aluminium fencing, as did the adjoining property from the next street over. The effort to get in or out would have caused a hell of a clatter and unwanted attention in the quiet of the night.

‘—I got in the house. I put my bag on the couch and went into the kitchen to get some orange juice and a broken mug was there in the middle of the floor. That’s when I heard the noise upstairs.’

As Katy was calmly wrapping up, a second cruiser pulled to the kerb. Two more cops emerged.

Pari looked over her shoulder, ‘Hey guys. Mind if you keep an eye out up here while we take a look inside?’

‘B and E?’

‘Looks like it.’

Both of the new arrivals nodded.

‘Alright Ma’am, stay here with Constables Drake and Auburn. We’ll be back.’

Bevan joined Pari at the front courtyard. ‘No sign of anyone walking around out the back. No mud or dirt on the fence; doesn’t look like anyone’s climbed it.’

‘Yeah, nothing in the front either.’

They scanned the small enclosure: numerous potted plants, a greens bin, a garden gnome, and a doormat. Quickly, they checked beneath each of them; Bevan produced a key from beneath the gnome. Both cops looked at one another and agreed silently with a nod. They entered the dwelling and carefully swept the area. The aforementioned mug lay shattered in five distinct pieces as the woman had told them.

Bevan grimaced as he looked over at the counter. ‘Check it out, Jacquie.’

Pari crossed the lounge room to join him. ‘What is it?’

‘Seems our Miss Roberts may have given herself a bit of a scare. Look.’ He nodded to the dish drainer to the right of the sink. Bowls, plates, mugs, and a couple sauce pans were piled up past capacity. A ceramic bowl was threatening to commit suicide along side its fallen companion. Bevan removed it from the heap and placed it right-side up on the counter. ‘I think our work here is done.’

Pari sighed. ‘She reported footsteps, too; we still need to check them out.’

Bevan put an index finger to the air and put the other in front of his mouth. His eyes glanced upward. Pari listened and heard the reported footsteps above them—although muted—from above the far side of the kitchen.

‘Sound’s coming from the other side of this wall,’ Bevan jabbed his thumb behind him, toward the stove. ‘Lady saw the mess and heard a sound and got all freaked out.’

‘There have been break-ins all over the news lately.’

‘Exactly. And she’s given herself a bit of a fright.’

Constable Pari rolled her eyes. ‘I’m still gonna check upstairs. If you’re gonna stay down here can you take a look out back? And check that other door in the lounge room. Probably goes to the garage.’

‘Sure,’ Bevan yawned. He crossed the threshold to the laundry room—nothing. He opened the back door and poked his head out to the rear courtyard. Empty, save for a cafe table and chair set and an empty clothesline. ‘More nothing,’ the tired cop muttered under his breath and returned to the lounge room (Pari’s footsteps wandered overhead) and tried to enter the garage. Locked. He eyed the key still in his hand and took a stab in the dark: he inserted it into the lock and turned.

Click.

The door swung inward to the garage. The room housed no car, only old furniture and heaps of boxes. In the shadows, the water heater sat in a little nook beneath the stairs. Bevan sighed and shook his head. He removed the key from the door and shouted up the stairs, ‘Nada!’

A resigned sigh echoed down, followed by footsteps and creaking floorboards. ‘Same,’ Pari replied.

The constables reassured Katy and handed over the key found under the garden gnome. ‘Probably keep this on you or give it to a friend for safe-keeping,’ Bevan told her. They further explained the state of the dishes and that the sounds were coming from next door.

A flustered Katy apologised profusely and thanked them for checking.

‘Better safe than sorry,’ replied Constable Pari.

‘And boring days with nothing going on are preferred for us, too,’ added Constable Bevan.

Katy thanked them all again and stayed out in the driveway until the cruisers departed. Red-faced still, she headed back into her home and locked the door behind her. She checked her watch—just after seven and it was already pitch black. She crossed the lounge room and put the kitchen light on. She gathered up the larger pieces of the mug and binned them.

Rain started to patter down on the roof and a low rumble of thunder built up in the distance. If Katy had only paused for a second longer before going to fetch the broom out of the laundry, she would have noticed the flicker of lightning from the crack of the garage door…and the silhouette of the figure emerging from behind the stacked boxes.

***

Assistant: Dammit…

Yuki: My thoughts exactly. It was worth a shot looking into. But I was working out something while we were in there.

Assistant: What’s that?

Yuki: I got the same feeling while I was checking the mainframe last week. What if we’re being misled on purpose. Being diverted from the trail.

Assistant: Wait a minute…being put down the wrong path? That would mean…

Yuki: Yes. They’re aware of us. They know we’re watching.

<BACK

LOBBY | EXCURSIONS | STORE | APPENDICES | CONTACT

 

Yuki: Hi all! We’re gonna jump right on in this week. Sorry again about the delay, it seems that those pesky investigators just won’t go away!

Assistant: I have no idea why. We gave them no reason to be suspicious.

Yuki: Were you watching them through the curtains while they left?

Assistant: …Maybe.

Yuki: Oh god…

***

“Oh ho ho ho!”

The familiar laugh echoes in the night as it had over the entire summer vacation. I squint my eyes and look up at the blue LED timer on my stereo across the room: 1:36AM. Same time as always. On cue, the crickets stop singing and the frogs stop croaking. They do the sensible thing and go into hiding; I know I wish I could.

My thumbs furiously tap they keypad of my Nokia:

 

To: Jay

From: Mack

There it is! Do u hear it now!?!?

 

Deet-deet.

 

From: Jay

To: Mack

I think so. Its rly quiet tho. U sure it isnt drunk ppl, man?

 

To: Jay

From: Mack

No… Its just one voice i think…

 

Deet-deet.

 

From: Jay

To: Mack

Hang on. Sounds like its getting closer. Gunna go check it out.

 

Several minutes pass and there’s no reply. My eyes grow heavy and I close them for a bit.

“Oh ho ho ho ho!”

I’m wide awake again and pull the sheets tight around me. What am I gonna do, run across the dark room and lock the door? As if! You know how horror movies go: the laughter goes away; it’s eerily quiet; and the second my toes reach the floor, the hand comes from under the bed and grabs me by the ankle.

No thank you. Not tonight or any night.

“Oh ho ho ho ho!”

That laugh shouldn’t be as scary as it is. It sounds like a damn woman! And not the cackling of some old-hag witch. She doesn’t sound old. In any other circumstance it might be pleasant.

“Oh ho ho ho ho!”

Nope. I take it back. That shit would sound sinister in broad daylight at a carnival.

I pull the blankets over my head. It’s different from the past few weeks. She’s closer now. The wind dies down as if to keep away from. Every thing around me is absolutely still. There’s not even the sound of a passing car in the distance or the odd freight train chugging along the tracks just a few blocks away.

And then I hear it: the patter of flesh on concrete. I know the sound well: just like all of us around the outdoor pool at the Y or when me and my friends played out in the street in the mornings, before it got hot enough to sizzle the soles. The footsteps sound denser, like they’ve got some serious weight behind them.

I could picture her out there, vividly. Closer and closer. She was walking up our goddamned driveway!

The worst part of it was that nobody else could hear her. Mom and Dad both think I’m crazy. Certifiable. Some nights I can hear their TV on in their room or I can hear them talking, all the while the laughter glides through the night air. Not once did they hear it.

I snap back into the present as the house groans. I bite down on my lip hard. ‘Oh no, Makayla, it’s just the wind. All houses make those sounds.’ What a crock.

The footfalls on the pavement stop and then I hear the swishing of the plants and flowers from Mom’s garden bed right outside my room. Still no laughter, but I can feel her presence just past the wall above my head.

I lay still and hold my breath.

Enough moonlight slips through the cracks of the blinds so that, even beneath all the bedding, not all is pitch black. My hands are barely visible to me, balled up into trembling fists.

And then it all goes dark.

I nearly jump out of my skin, but I hold my place under the covers. A tiny squeak escapes and I will myself to keep silent.

Fingernails rap over and over again on the window. She knows I’m in here! The tapping on the glass continues and eventually stops. After a minute of silence (or what I think is at least a minute) I gather enough courage to peek out from beneath the covers. I can’t believe my eyes and nearly cry out again. Almost every square inch of the window was taken up by the silhouette of the woman outside! Even my dad only took up a small portion of it when he was tending to the garden with Mom. No one could possibly be that big!

I don’t waste a second and cover up completely again. My body shakes all over as I cry as quietly as possible. The tears patter down on the fitted sheet.

And as suddenly as the moonlight was eclipsed, the full rays shine down on me and brighten the room once more.

She’s gone.

I heard her walking up to the house, but not a sound as she walked away. It’s like she faded into the night. My limp arms manage to toss the sheets and blankets aside and I breathe in the cool air in huge gulps.

My left leg creeps away from the mattress and the old springs (thankfully) refuse to squeal. I almost hyperventilate as my toes inch closer and closer to the carpet below. The second they touch down, I know a hand with those long fingernails will engulf my ankle and pull me down into the dark. Despite what just happened at the window, the logical part of my brain tells me that this cannot happen; there is nothing beyond the bed skirt.

When my big toe touches the ground my eyes roll bag and my shoulders drop. The tension is gone. Creaky springs be damned, I put my full weight on leg and push myself out of bed. Still no laughter, no heavy footfalls on the lawn or sidewalk. I push the curtains aside and peep through the slats.

Everything is still, save for the rustling trees past my street. The dew atop the grass glistens and the only light rivaling the moon is the porch lamp from across the street. Eased from their moment of dread, the crickets start back up letting everyone within earshot know that, yes, it was still time to be sleeping. I want to heed that advice; I know I should. But I can’t stop myself and walk to my door.

A quick scene flashes in my mind’s eye where I open the door and that massive woman has knelt down on the other side. She squeezes her way into the room, but still has to crouch to be able to fit properly. She lets out a banshee scream and stretches her long arms out and envelopes me.

I twist the knob all the way to the right and swiftly pull the door open.

Nothing.

Gathering courage, I step out of my room and creep down the hall. I move slowly and try to avoid the creaky spots. It’s mostly a success. With every squeak of the floorboards, I pause, wait, and listen. No one (or nothing) stirs. I sneak around the corner of the hall into the living room. The only things I see and hear are the digital clock on the microwave and the leaky kitchen faucet across the way. Once I’m at the front door, I bend my knees and lean in (ear toward the locks) like I’m some sort of safe cracker. Carefully, my fingers turn the knob and release the deadbolt with hardly a sound.

The fresh scent of damp earth puts me even more at ease. A gentle cool breeze sends a shiver up my spine. It’s wonderful. Every second that passes I’m more and more convinced that I’ve just been having recurring nightmares. I step out on to the front porch and out on to the sidewalk.

Not a single cloud in sight. Overhead, the stars and moon provide enough light for the trees and mailboxes to cast distinct shadows. It’s a pleasant sight and relief washes over me entirely.

“Oh ho ho ho ho!”

My heart stops and I spin around. Calm degrades to dread before I fully turn around to face the source of the laughter. Standing in the side yard between my house and our neighbor’s is the largest woman I’ve ever seen. She’s impossibly tall; no way in hell would she stand comfortably inside. She’s not dressed for the occasion either, wearing a sunhat and white dress with no shoes—there’s no way she’s not freezing. The lady’s hiding it well, though, her lips are turned up into a pleasant smile and her eyes are filled with joy.

“Aww, I see you’ve finally come out to join me,” the woman says. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to come out and play. Come on! We’ll have so much fun!” She takes two giant strides toward me; I don’t have time to react before she’s inches away. Her massive hand reaches for mine, but then pulls back suddenly. A shocked, almost disgusted, expression crosses her features. She wrinkles her nose at me.

“Oh, sorry little girl. My mistake.” She blushes with a tinge of embarrassment. And without another word, she stands up and walks out into the street and follows the road that leads out of town.

As the woman is walking away, I realize I’m still holding my cell phone. I quickly text Jay and send.

Deet-deet.

The woman comes to a dead stop. Her sunhat dips forward like she’s looking down at something. She turns to face me, all smiles. “Oh! So you’re ‘Mack’! You have such a lovely friend. Have a nice night now! Bye!”

She turns away once more and walks down the long road until she is no more than a speck on the horizon.

***

Assistant: Wait. I think that was a demon. Well…kind of.

Yuki: What do you mean?

Assistant: You’ve never heard of it? The story’s from Japan. It’s an urban legend.

Yuki: Born and raised in the US, remember. And I’m not always 100% up-to-date on what stories the youths are going about nowadays…Gad-dammit.

Assistant: Nice. But yeah, checks the the boxes: woman in white, sunhat, larger than humanly possible, kidnaps and murders boys mainly between nine and thirteen years old.

Yuki: Interesting. We’re gonna have to note this one down too. Alright everyone, we’ll see you all again. Maybe next time we’ll have less engagement with the authorities.

Assistant: I didn’t look this time, I swear!

<BACK

LOBBY | EXCURSIONS | STORE | APPENDICES | CONTACT

Yuki: Good evening everyone! The new year is off and running and the holidays are firmly behind us now. We’ve finally managed to put away all the decorations and clean up the last bits of tinsel and glitter and confetti.

Assistant: *shifty eyes*

Yuki: What is it? Wait…what the hell is all this tiger stuff? I didn’t take you as the sporting type.

Assistant: Umm…Yuki, none of this is for the Super Bowl.

Yuki: Aw, hell! Chinese New Year? How are you so into celebrations?

Assistant: I mean, they’re fun, right? And it adds a little bit more color to the place.

Yuki: I suppose so. And these little stuffed tigers are really cute. But no parties this month, okay?

Assistant: Alright, alright. I’ll keep it simple.

Yuki: And speaking of that, the woman in tonight’s story has a relatively simple job: wander around, find picturesque travel locations, take some pictures, write about it, and get out. Her next destination won’t quite go the way she’s expecting.

***

The road into town was at least 300 metres above sea level, with an amazing view Shamsiya Mandal thought to herself as her camera lens followed the treeline. The forest-covered hills obscured several homes on the slope, while the bulk of the town was nestled between the forest’s edge and the Pacific ocean. Stunning blue-green waters shimmered beneath the sun and a near cloudless sky. She snapped a couple pictures.

Shamsiya wiped the beads of sweat from her brow and took a hearty chug from her water bottle. A cool dip in the water and some rest would do her body good.

Probably an hour and a bit, she reckoned, and she’d be down at the hamlet. Her stomach growled. Some fish n’ chips would do some good, too. She hoisted her backpack over her shoulder and started her hike down the narrow road.

* * *

Two hours and a full stomach later, Shamsiya stood from the table at a little quiet cafe off the main drag in the town and followed the sound of the crashing waves. With the exception of some funny looks she got from the server and some of the other patrons, it was a pleasant stopping point so far.

Standard fare for all the locales she’d passed through on her trip: small grocer, small businesses lined up and down the way, a few sprinkled for garnish down the offshoots, and houses and park spaces keeping them all snug and warm. A little bit of an oddity, but no real biggie: there was a lack of any kind of business chain, no matter how small. No IGA, no Eagle Boys, not even a Vinnies or Salvos. Everything, down to the optometrist, seemed to be independently run. And there was no real estate, not even locally-owned. Even the smallest towns have agents at the ready. From the amount of homes and shops she saw, there had to be at least two to three thousand locals. Plenty of space to increase the numbers exponentially.

The ocean’s horizon was finally visible when she followed a road leading out of the CBD that crested a hill. She was taken aback with the sight that greeted her: the endless stretch of beach was jam-packed! People were tending to the businesses, surely, but the crowds on the sand and in the water had to be double the population—at least! The car park was only half-full and the kerbside spots were vacant, same for some 15-minute spots outside the newsagent.

This little places is a curiosity, alright, Shamsiya thought.

Crowds really weren’t her thing, so Shams passed on through without a word, trying not to meet the eyes of any of the townsfolk. She took her shoes off and turned left halfway to the water and guided herself down the beach, away from the other people.

More confused and highly curious gazes fell upon her; she pretended not to notice—didn’t even pick up her pace across the fine white sand.

Strange and unsettling, but God, the beach and its rocky bookends were too good to pass up. She told herself she’d come back later when it was less crowded and snag some photos.

Grains of sand became blades of grass and Shams had a look inland. There looked to be a motel or something a ways up the slope near the base of the cliffs she’d come down earlier. Her legs were certainly going to be fucked on the journey, but an afternoon nap and, hopefully, a soak in a tub would do her wonders.

* * *

Another icy gaze from reception, but mercifully the woman at the counter confirmed they had a vacancy and handed over a key and pamphlet for room service, take-away, and an area map for Mermaids Bluff.

The weary traveller crossed the threshold of her temporary dwelling and sighed with relief as she tossed her bag to one side. Once her phone was plugged in and charging (8%), she flipped the electric kettle on, started up the bath, and relieved herself of her clothing. Shamsiya wasn’t even halfway through her cuppa when she passed out in the cool bathtub water.

An hour and a half later, Shams was feeling invigorated and mildly pruney. She exited the tub and used one of the large bath towels to pat down her skin and remove the excess water. Rather than get dressed she let the room’s AC waft over her bare skin.

Using her mostly-charged phone, she dialed out to her editor.

‘Shams, how you doing? You’re not meant to call for…another five days.’

‘Yeah, I know. Made a little detour on my way; hope that doesn’t put us off by much.’

‘Shouldn’t matter if you’ve got some good stuff.’

‘Oh…I’ve got something alright…not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing yet.’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘Well, on one hand, it’s a fantastic “get away from it all” kinda spot. No big commercial chains; everything seems family-run; no tacky tourist attractions or souvenir stands; I didn’t even see a single car from this decade. No out-of-state plates either.’

‘There’s a downside?’

‘All the strange looks I’m getting…’

‘Like you’ve shoplifted something?’

‘Like I’m just…different from them…or, I dunno, like they know that I know some sort of secret…just weird.’

There was a pause on the other end. ‘Have you seen much diversity in the town? Or they all whiteys?

Shams laughed. ‘White, ranging from pale to lightly tanned.’

‘I think that’s your problem right there.’ Shams heard the rustling of thick paper on the line. ‘None of your other cities and towns were like that. Plenty of Asians and Aboriginies in photos and interviews. What’s the place called?’

‘Mermaids Bluff.’

‘Never heard of it.’

‘I think there may be a reason for that…,’ Shams reflected again on the chilly reception thus far, ‘but it really is one of the prettiest places I’ve seen on this whole project.’

‘Mmm…tell you what, stick around for a day or two. Take some photos and write a quick summary and send off everything the next chance you get.’

‘Okay, I’ll ring you again before I leave.’

‘Excellent, Talk to you then.’

‘Bye.’

‘See ya.’

* * *

Shamisya’s stomach dictated that she go out for a late dinner. She put on her clothes begrudgingly and grabbed the Kodak from her bag and headed off. Partway down the narrow street, she noticed a thin trail down through the surrounding forest. Her eyes followed the straight-shot and made an imaginary line from the point the dirt path went beyond her sight. Beyond the tree tops was a hidden beach separated from the one she walked across that afternoon. The left-hand cliff that jutted out far into the ocean, the one she thought of as part of the beach’s bookends, separated it from the rest of the town.

The sun was descending, but she presumed she’d be able to snap a few photos with her trusty camera and get to a cafe or pub before full-dark.

One foot in front of the other, Shams carefully made her way down the path. The shadows around her deepened and the shimmering sunlight danced through the leaves. The sparse rays reflected off something to her left. Whatever it was, it was mostly obscured by the thick patch of trees and shrubs. There was no visible trail from the one she was on, but felt brave enough to cross through; spiders and snakes be damned. Whatever it was it was large and a grey-ish colour and until she saw it up close, Shams thought it to be a large boulder.

It was not.

It was a statue.

Shams readied her camera and snapped a quick picture. She stepped around twigs and roots and into the small clearing. Before she could focus on the design of the statue, another object caught her eye. It was mostly hidden by the tall grasses, but something was slumped on the ground.

Shamsiya’s eyes widened, a cry lodged itself in her throat.

It was a body!

She rushed over and knelt down next to the figure. It was a young man, probably in his late teens or early twenties. He was soaked to the bone and cold to the touch.

‘Ohmygod, ohmygod,’ Shams muttered to herself over and over. She put her camera aside and dug into her pockets for her mobile. It fumbled in her hands as she dialed 000 with her thumb.

Boopboopboop.

‘Fuck.’ The call failed; no network connection. ‘Damn it all!’ Though frustrated, she was mindful enough not to toss her phone in frustration. She’d have to jog back up to the motel and tell someone.

…or was she closer to town now?

Her attention turned back to the boy…maybe he wasn’t dead; maybe he was just unconscious…

No…his frame was ice-cold. His skin stark-white with a blue tinge. He wasn’t breathing.

What the hell? It was as if he’d drowned, yet the the sands were still a good ten to fifteen minutes away on foot and on a plane several metres below their own. Maybe—

SNAP!

Shamsiya spun herself around. Standing behind her, hidden amongst the shadows of the trees, were two lanky figures. They stood eerily still, like scarecrows watching over the crops.

SNAP!

Another twig snapped on her left. A much taller figure stood, towering over her, just centimetres away.

She only managed a gasp before a hand clasped tight around her throat. It was so cold! And not entirely solid. Before everything went black, she caught a glimpse of her attacker’s green eyes, unconcerned, its face expressionless. Stringy, dirty blond hair fell down the narrow cheeks. A fuzzy, pins and needles sensation started at Shamsiya’s feet and crawled up her body. It was like she was slowly lowering herself into the ocean. Her clothes and skin soaked through. Blackness started in her periphery and grew and grew. Her eyes burned. The taste of saltwater met her lips and forced its way into her mouth and down her nose.

Shamsiya was drowning. The world around her was black. Her body numbed. She was scared and shivering.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

The tall figure took in a breath of air—its first ever on land. It was wonderful! It stretched and bent its newfound legs, the scales and fins having shed seconds before. It kept hold of the woman and brought her gently to the base of the statue; a life-like depiction of their ancestor. The first of their kind on land.

The smaller two figures, hesitant at first, came from the shadows and took the body of the teen and they, too, placed it at the statue. They looked up at the taller figure and smiled in tandem.

Together, the three figures bowed their heads in silent contemplation. After a beat, the three walked into town, the new legs surprisingly limber and strong, enjoying their first moments of their new lives on the surface.

***

Yuki: Pity about Shams there, being liquidated and all. Bonus though, she won’t have to put up with going through another series of celebrations and parties…or at least keep up after them.

Assistant: Hey, it’s only these decorations, for real. And no party hosting duties.

Yuki: Mmm…

Assistant: Look, I even have proof.

Yuki: What are these?

Assistant: Tickets for all the activities in Chinatown. Lantern lighting, dragon boat races, all the good stuff. Food vouchers, too.

Yuki: Holy crap! I mean, I suppose we can cut outta work early some of these days. All right, you’re on. This week we’ll only work on updating the systems, defragging, routine maintenance. Cool?

Assistant: More than.

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