Chapter 3: Born of Water and Sorrow

When I stood up, my legs were weak, and my sister quickly caught me, holding me steady. Even before I opened the door, the thick, metallic smell of blood hit me.

The metallic scent filled the air, mixed with something fishy and foul. I clung to Marlene’s arm, afraid I’d collapse, my knees shaking.

There was a flapping sound from inside—a sound I knew well. Every time I cleaned a fish, it would struggle and make that same wet, desperate noise.

It was wet and frantic, like the flopping of fish on the dock after a big haul. I remembered cleaning perch with my father, how the fish would fight even after their heads were gone. The memory sent a shiver down my spine.

Stepping over buckets of bloody water, I saw a white towel on the floor with a few strange-looking fish on it. The sight made my breath catch.

The towel was soaked, stained red and brown. The fish writhed, their scales glinting in the lamplight. I counted them—one, two, three, four—each one stranger than the last.

There were four in total, just like the ghostly fish that had fallen to the floor before. The one in the middle was wrapped in a shirt, clearly different from the others, smaller and more delicate.

It was swaddled in one of Lila Mae’s old shirts, faded pink with a cartoon cat. Its skin was smoother, almost baby-like. I stared, unable to look away.

My hand was just reaching out, trembling, when my sister beat me to it and lifted the towel. Underneath was a fish head with five fish eyes, and below that, smooth baby skin, with tiny hands and feet.

I recoiled, covering my mouth to stifle a scream. The creature blinked up at us, its tiny hands curling and uncurling, looking almost—almost—human.

I covered my mouth in disbelief, afraid to make a sound and wake the fish child. My heart pounded so loud I was sure everyone could hear it. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t move.

My sister spoke calmly. "Go see Lila Mae."

Her voice was steady, but I saw the fear flicker in her eyes. She cradled the fish child, careful not to let its head loll. My stomach twisted with dread.

With that, she cradled the fish child in her arms, covering his head with the towel. She rocked it gently, humming a lullaby I hadn’t heard since we were kids. The fish child closed its eyes, settling into her arms. I watched, transfixed and horrified.

Lila Mae was sleeping deeply on the bed, her belly wrapped round and round with bandages, blood slowly seeping through.

She looked so small, so breakable. The bandages were stained red, her skin pale as milk. I brushed the hair from her forehead, whispering her name, but she didn’t stir.

I forced myself to stay calm, wet a towel to wipe Lila Mae’s sweat, but my hands shook so badly my sister finally took over. "Maggie, go sleep for a while."

She took the towel from me, her hands steady. "Get some rest," she said, her voice gentle. "I’ll watch over her."

My sister always had ideas, almost the pillar of our family. After our parents died, she was the one who held us together. With her around, I always felt safer.

She taught me how to braid my hair, how to stand up for myself, how to keep going when things got tough. I leaned on her more than I liked to admit. Even now, I needed her.

I held Lila Mae’s hand, wiped away my tears, and finally drifted off to sleep beside her, exhausted.

I curled up on the edge of the bed, clutching her tiny fingers. Sleep came in fits and starts, haunted by dreams I couldn’t remember. I was so tired my bones ached.

Maybe because I hadn’t slept well, I had a dream. The house was full of laughter and sunlight, Lila Mae’s voice echoing down the hall.

In the dream, the house was alive again. Lila Mae danced around the kitchen, sticky with jam, her laughter filling every corner.

In the dream, Lila Mae woke up, back to her old self, pestering me for candy.

She tugged at my sleeve, eyes sparkling. "Please, Mom? Just one piece?" I laughed, ruffling her hair, promising two if she finished her homework. The sunlight streamed in, warm and golden.

I just smiled and told her to do her homework. She stuck out her tongue, grabbed her backpack, and flopped onto the rug. The smell of fresh bread filled the air. For a second, I almost believed it was real.

Lila Mae suddenly fell silent, her body lying on the ground in an unnaturally flexible way, limbs twisting in ways that made my stomach turn.

She twisted, her eyes flickering yellow, her body bending like something not quite human. My heart pounded, fear rising in my throat.

As she swam toward the door, she looked back at me, fish eyes shining on her face. "Mom, I have to go back," she said, her voice echoing.

Her words echoed, strange and distant. The fish eyes blinked, full of sadness. She reached for the doorknob, scales glinting on her cheeks. I felt my heart break all over again.

Don’t go! I tried to run after her, but my feet wouldn’t move. I screamed her name, but no sound came out. The desperation was crushing.

I gasped for air and woke up in my bedroom, heart racing. The smell of tobacco drifted in from the hall. Someone was smoking at the door. I stumbled out of bed, desperate to check on Lila Mae, the dream still clinging to me.

Opening the door, I found Tom blocking my way. "Maggie, Marlene wants you to rest more."

He stood in the hallway, arms crossed, trying to look calm. But I could see the worry etched deep into his face. I felt a surge of frustration.

"Tom, I want to see Lila Mae." My voice cracked, urgent and raw. I tried to push past him, but he held out a hand, gentle but firm.

Tom’s expression was unnatural. My heart beat faster, dread rising in my chest. Something was wrong—deeply wrong.

Sure enough, Lila Mae’s bed was empty. The fish child was in a glass tank, the other ghostly fish had been put in our small pond, but there was no sign of Lila Mae anywhere. My stomach dropped.

"Where is Lila Mae?!" I grabbed Tom’s sleeve so hard my fingers ached, my voice ragged with fear.

He winced, looking away. "She’s gone, Maggie." The words hit me like a punch.

Tom closed his eyes and pointed to the floor. "Lila Mae crawled away."

There was a trail of blood, dark and sticky, leading from the bed to the door. My stomach twisted, my mind racing.

On the floor, a bloody trail led straight to the door. Gritting my teeth and swallowing my fear, I followed the blood for a long time, until it disappeared into the woods.

The trail wound through the kitchen, across the porch, and into the trees. I followed it as far as I could, heart pounding. The woods loomed ahead, dark and silent, swallowing the trail.

This mountain is not ordinary. Maple Ridge isn’t just any mountain—folks say it’s haunted, cursed, sacred, take your pick. The trees grow taller there, the air feels heavier. It’s the kind of place you avoid after dark.

Maple Ridge is our local sacred mountain. They say there’s an old Lake God Chapel inside. It used to be a blessed place, but now it’s forbidden ground.

The chapel’s been boarded up for decades, but kids still dare each other to sneak inside. I remembered the stories—how the preacher vanished, how the altar bled water, how the air turned cold as ice. The place gave me chills.

My sister once told me, once you go in, it’s a road to death. I remembered her warning from when we were kids: don’t go past the old fence, don’t follow the deer trails, don’t listen to the voices in the trees. I always thought she was just trying to scare me. Maybe she was.

Just as I was about to enter, neighbors stopped me. A hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back. I turned to see Mrs. Perkins, her face pinched with fear. Others gathered around, murmuring nervously, blocking my path.

"Maggie, are you out of your mind?" She shook me, her grip tight and panicked. "You can’t go in there."

A few folks muttered about calling my sister. Someone ran off toward Marlene’s house, shouting her name. The others circled around me, keeping me from the woods.

"You can’t go in there; people die in there." The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. I wanted to scream at them to let me go, but my voice caught in my throat.

At that moment, a neighbor looked down, puzzled. "Why is there blood?!" He pointed at the ground, face going white. The others followed his gaze, panic spreading like wildfire.

Now they panicked, dragging me back to my doorstep in a rush. Their hands were rough, voices frantic. I fought them, but they were stronger. Fear and chaos swirled around me.

Staring at my familiar door, I felt dazed, exhausted, barely able to stand. The neighbors threw me there and scattered, leaving me alone in the fading light.

The door was open; I heard footsteps inside. Thinking Lila Mae was back, I rushed in, only to see my sister holding the fish child, gently feeding him raw meat from a plate with a fork.

The sight shocked me. Marlene sat at the kitchen table, the fish child cradled in her lap. She fed him strips of raw steak, blood dripping down his chin. The smell was thick—iron, salt, and something old and wild.

The meat was raw; I could even see the bloody threads. She sliced off another piece, her movements slow and careful. The fish child gulped it down, eyes closing in contentment. I felt my stomach twist.

"Marlene?" My voice was barely more than a whisper, shaky and shocked. She looked up, her face unreadable.

Marlene turned around. The fish child waved his arms, actually wanting me to hold him. For a second, I saw Lila Mae in his face—the same stubborn chin, the same hopeful eyes. My fear faded, replaced by something like pity.

At that moment, my eyes grew moist. For a split second, I saw little Lila Mae from childhood. I was no longer afraid of the fish child, so I reached out and carefully held him.

He was warm, surprisingly so. He nestled into my arms, sighing. I stroked his back, feeling the ridges of his fins beneath my fingers. For a moment, the world felt softer.

Marlene calmly put away the plate. "Sis, did you find Lila Mae?" She wiped her hands on a dish towel, her voice tired but steady. I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes.

I shook my head in frustration, despair washing over me. "I followed the blood trail to the forbidden woods."

My sister’s brow tightened, her eyes narrowing with worry. "You went up the mountain?" Her voice was sharp, almost angry. I shook my head, trying to explain.

"No, the neighbors pulled me back." I could hear the relief in her sigh, but also something like disappointment.

My sister sighed. "Don’t worry, we’ll find her. This child is connected to Lila Mae. Before that, we can’t let him die." She stroked the fish child’s head, her touch gentle. I watched her, searching for any sign of the sister I knew.

Looking at the fish child’s five eyes, I wondered if my feelings had changed—they seemed narrower now, almost human. The eyes blinked slowly, their yellow fading to a softer gold. I felt a strange warmth in my chest, a flicker of hope.

My aversion faded a bit. I found myself rocking him gently, humming the lullaby my mother used to sing. The fear was still there, but softer, dulled by exhaustion and love.

"Let’s give him a name." The words slipped out before I could stop them. Marlene shook her head, lips pressed in a thin line.

My sister dumped the raw meat in the trash. "No need." She turned away, shoulders tense. Blood dripped from the plate, pooling in the sink. I watched her, a chill running down my spine.

Watching the blood droplets slide off the plate, I suddenly felt my sister was acting strange. She’d always been practical, but now she seemed distant, almost cold. Was it the stress? Or something else?

She’d always been good to Lila Mae. Why wasn’t she anxious now that Lila Mae was missing? Instead, she always stayed with the fish child. I watched her, searching for some sign of grief, but her face was unreadable. She focused all her attention on the fish child, as if he was the only thing that mattered.

My sister’s nature, to put it nicely, was strong; to put it bluntly, she was cold. She never acted spoiled with our parents, married Tom by her own efforts. Tom was the only man over thirty still in town.

She was always the tough one, the one who never cried, never complained. Tom was quiet, dependable—the kind of man who fixed what needed fixing and never asked questions. They were a good match, or so I’d thought.

Others, as soon as they had kids, would go work out of state. That’s just how it was. The men left, the women stayed. Marlene always resented it, said she’d never let anyone tell her what to do.

Thinking of this, my gaze toward my sister filled with sympathy. She’d been pregnant three times but never had a surviving child. She never talked about it, but I knew it haunted her. The nursery in her house was always spotless, the crib untouched. She’d lost more than most, but never let it show.

After so many years, she’d always taken care of me. She taught me how to bake bread, how to drive stick, how to stand up for myself. I owed her more than I could ever repay.

Deep down, she was still close to me. No matter how distant she seemed, I knew she cared. I just wished she’d let me in.

But her attitude toward the fish child left me puzzled. I couldn’t understand it. She treated him like her own, but there was something off about the way she looked at him—something I couldn’t name.

"Marlene, why do you feed him raw meat?" I asked, my voice trembling. She glanced at the pond outside, her face thoughtful.

My sister pointed to the pond outside, where the other three fish were swimming happily. The water was still, the fish darting below the surface. They ignored the breadcrumbs I tossed, circling each other in lazy spirals.

"I just gave them fish food, but they wouldn’t eat it—only raw meat. So I thought the fish child would be the same." Her words made sense, but something about them made me uneasy. I nodded, trying to convince myself it was all normal.

So that was it. I was relieved. "But he can’t eat it raw. I’ll cook some meat later and see if the fish child will eat it."

I tried to smile, to make light of it. Maybe if we treated him like a normal baby, things would go back to normal.

"Sis, I have something to ask you. Lila Mae must have gone into the woods..." I hesitated, afraid to say it out loud. Marlene read my mind, her eyes softening.

I hesitated, wanting to ask my sister to go with me into the woods, but she guessed my thoughts immediately. She squeezed my shoulder, her grip firm. "We’ll go together," she promised. "Just give it some time."

She patted my shoulder, giving me reassurance. "In a while, we’ll go into the woods." Her words gave me hope, even if only a little.

My sister didn’t say when exactly. She always played things close to the vest. I tried not to push, but the waiting gnawed at me.

But to go up the mountain, we had to prepare. I thought of visiting Grandma Elsie. I packed a bag with water, bandages, and a flashlight. Before I left, I checked on the fish child one more time, watching him sleep in the tank. He looked almost peaceful.

In recent years, the town had built new houses, but Grandma Elsie’s was still old. Every night, her house was lit by candlelight, looking from afar like a stubborn old woman refusing to close her eyes. The windows glowed with warm, flickering light. I knocked on the door, and she opened it before I could finish, as if she’d been waiting for me all along.

Tonight, Grandma Elsie wasn’t surprised by my arrival. She motioned me inside, her eyes sharp and clear. The house smelled of sage and cedar, the air thick with secrets.

She was wiping an old photo. In the photo, Grandma Elsie was young, with my parents standing beside her, my mother holding a little girl—my sister Marlene. The photo was faded, edges curled with age. My mother’s smile was bright, Marlene’s cheeks round and rosy. I felt a pang of longing for the days when things were simpler.