Fingers Through Water

Dewi
Dewi
Jul 25, 2017 · 13 min read

He stepped out of the Ford reluctantly. His mind sighed in semi-defeat as he looked up the two and a half storied house he was about to step in. Though dark, it was at least clean, not the haunted look that he had expected. At least his foot wouldn’t complain after the one and a half hour drive out of the city to find the house. The place was not too remote but challenging to find.

It was a quiet neighbourhood, each house had enough lawn space to avoid being disgruntled lovers but not enough for indifference. Each house was also grey in anonymity, looking alike to each other in facade and colour. He felt his emotions towards the house neutralised. It looked the same like any other as far as he could see. He wasn’t given a chance to make judgements when there was nothing to point out for comparison. Nothing that he could object to without objecting to the whole housing complex.

He stepped towards the fence and rang the bell. The windows were dark with no light from within. The lady he came to meet soon opened the door and gate for him. She greeted him with a friendly smile.

“Come in, Mr Andersen. Thanks for calling first by the way, you don’t know how many people just show up and expect to get a session right then and there.” She looked normal and friendly. Just someone you met on a train vibe, except that she wasn’t.

“Please, call me Carl.” He replied and followed. He managed a cringe smile that he hoped looked sincere to her. She looked calm and collected, unlike him.

“Carl. Call me Danna, as you know. Let’s go to the medium room and get started.”

They reached the ‘medium’ room, which was a small room without visible windows and only minimal lighting. Without daylight and with the heavy soft furnishing, the room seemed to sit outside of time. There was a sofa instead of the round table that he had seen in the movies. No crystal ball in sight as he looked around.

“You must be looking for the crystal ball.” She mused while he flushed.

He stumbled to change topic, “So .. how do we start?”

“Okay, tell me a little bit about what you are looking for, who you wish to connect, your history, that kind of thing.” They settled into arm chairs facing each other.

“Well, a hmm month ago we.. we lost our child, Cynthia. She was seven years old when she went missing. We never found her, the police pretty much gave up on it. My wife believes she’s still alive, but really the police told us it’s unlikely. I.. I just want closure for me, for my wife. Depending on how this goes, of course, I might bring her here. I want to know if Cynthia is.. reachable. If she’s in a good place, if she was in pain when… when...” The air turned mercury to his blood.

“I understand, completely, and I’m so sorry this happened to your family. I know this is a situation where you want to connect with her and yet that would confirm your child’s absence in this world. Honestly, I don’t know what will happen, and even if I can’t reach her it doesn’t mean she’s still alive. I want to be clear on this. The reason why a lot of people ended up not believing us as spirit mediums is because it can be flaky, just like in this world where you can’t just shout someone’s name and they’ll hear you and come to you, or that you’ll just reply to anyone on the streets that wants to talk to you.” Her eyes were unwavering as she explained.

“I guess that makes sense. I don’t know what to expect either. I just happened to click on your ad and thought maybe…” Carl trailed off. He stared at her sandals, tucked below the hems of her skirt.

“Sure. Like I said, we both don’t know what will happen so let’s take this journey and decide after. We can stop at anytime. Alright?” She waited for his assent before continuing, “Alright, now I want you to recall Cynthia as clearly as you can, not physically, but her… her character, how she makes you feel, her laughter maybe, her playing, and hold the thought for as long as you can while I try to find her.”

“How long will that be?”

“As long as it takes, we can take breaks. Once I have her you can relax and focus on conversing with her.”

He closed his eyes and there she was. Not difficult at all. Cynthia haunted him every time he closed his eyes after all. Here she was smiling up at him, hair wind-kissed, cheeks sun-kissed. She wore that yellow dress she loved with the giraffes printed pattern. Her eyes were never sad when she came to him. Her smile was free like nothing else in the world.

His heart tasted like a Sun-maid raisin, that sweet and sting tangy taste, addictive and regretful. He felt his chest heave as he struggled against the unrealised emotions.

“Daddy,” Danna’s voice called out to him.

He snapped his eyes open in half reeling effect, still drunk in memories and reconciling with the woman sitting in front of him. In the movies the spirits sounded like their own voice instead of the medium’s. He was thankful that she hadn’t sound anything like Cynthia, for that would ruin the child’s sweet voice to him forever.

“Cynthia?” He awkwardly asked. He felt foolish all at once for coming, for trying, for believing even as he hoped and unhoped.

“It’s me, daddy. I miss talking to you. I miss mom too. I miss Gretel.”

He gasped. He hadn’t mentioned the dog. How did she... He trembled. “How, how are you?”

“I’m great, daddy. I’m happier, and I also miss the oranges you peeled for me.” Oranges— her favourite snack fruit. He felt the salty taste of tears on his lips, a paltry proof of his emotions.

“I... I’ll bring you some, next time? Darling, tell me where you are.”

“Me? I’m here with daddy and I’m with mom.”

She was gone too soon, barely minutes into the conversation Cynthia faded away leaving him with Danna once again.

He realised then, he didn’t ask any of the questions he had meant to ask. They talked about food, Gretel, and he did not even broach the topic of what happened that day. He realised in horror that they might not have another chance, and he had spent every second not working towards the closure he sought. Danna passed him the tissue silently as he drowned and resurfaced only to drown again.

There was a short thumping sound from above, a distant thud. He paused to listen and it repeated again, twice.

“Don’t mind it. After I moved in, I realised the house had some restless spirits. They’re almost like a pet by now, but they like to play pranks to my clients sometimes.” She chuckled. “I think they’re loud especially because I am a medium.”

He marvelled at her ability to stay in such a disturbing house.

“I set up some cameras around the house just to see what they do. If you want to, you could check it out. Furnitures moving, that kind of thing.”

“Oh, I thought that was just horror movies.” He was taken aback and wondered if his own house had Cynthia’s spirit all this time without him or his wife realizing.

“No, they’re everywhere but don’t be scared. We’re sharing the world with them, just be respectful to each other.”

He nodded, that made sense but he still had to convince the cold off from his spine. “Were you still here when Cynthia...”

“Oh yes, I basically let her use parts of my body to speak to you, but I am always here and listening. I have to, otherwise it’s too easy to lose control and let the spirit take over. You did well, really, not hysterical like some of my other clients. I know you have questions, if you want to, we could try again next week or so. How about that?” She rose and walked towards the door.

He followed reluctantly, there were so many things he wanted to ask to Danna. There was still ten minutes to the consultation hour, but the session had exceeded his expectations. He thought he shouldn’t be picky about durations. He handed her the hundred dollar fifty bill he owed for the session and promised to call back for another session.

The spirit of the house farewelled him with two firm thumps as he left. He crossed the road to his car and looked up at the house. He thought he saw a light flash behind the top curtained window.


“Ah, you came alone,” as she walked him from the gate to the house.

“Yes, I don’t know how to tell my wife of what happened. I also thought that if I’d brought her over and somehow we couldn’t get in touch with Cynthia anymore.. that surely would be something she can’t recover from. I just need to be sure it was not a one time fluke.”

“I see. Of course. Come and sit down.”

The room looked exactly the same as he remembered it. Two very hard weeks passed. He couldn’t forget his conversation, and he replayed it in his head over and over again over lost sleep.

“Would you mind if I record this on my phone?”

“I guess not. Though I can’t guarantee that you’d be able to play it back later on. We can try.”

Again Cynthia came, swiftly this time.

“Gretel is fine,” He assured Cynthia, “She’s missing you, but she eats all her snacks and she plays with the ball you picked for her.” He decided to slip in a lie.

“Oh good girl, Gretel. How is mommy? I can see her but she doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Carl momentarily paused as she didn’t pick up the lie, “Mommy’s good. She still bakes your favourite cookie, raspberry jam.” He tried another one.

“Eww raspberries. Silly daddy, you know my favourite is blueberry.”

He smiled as he remembered how she ate so many blueberry cookies that she had her tongue all purple and was too full to eat anything else for the whole day.

“Honey, could you tell me what happened? That day. We looked for you everywhere and we couldn’t find you at the supermarket. Where did you go?”

“I didn’t go anywhere, I was waiting for you but then it got dark and I ran out and ran and ran looking for you and mommy forever until I fell.”

“You fell? Where?” Carl straightened his back.

“I don’t know it was dark and I was lost, daddy. There were trees... But I’m OK now.”

“Trees...” Carl searched his mind for trees around the supermarket where they lost Cynthia. The river ran about two-three hundred metres away south from the supermarket road. It had a small park that sloped down to the river.

“Did you fall into some water, honey?”

The house let out a creak, like a strained groan of an old man. Cynthia spoke, unbothered, “Yes daddy. I fell into the water and it was cold and it went on forever.”

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

“Daddy, you don’t have to look for me anymore. I’m here with you.”

With another creak, louder this time, the session ended even earlier this time. Cynthia left without a goodbye and Carl wondered if he could continue digging away parts of his heart.

“I’m sorry. I lost her.”

The house seemed to strain heavily as it protested when the bell hung on the front door chimed as he left.

He looked back at the curtained windows of Danna’s house but saw nothing. He went straight to the supermarket. He left the car in the parking lot and followed the path until he traced and then raced the Severn; his breath rushing with the water downstream.


“Daddy, what color is the sky now?”

“Huh? It’s almost sunset, but blue I guess. Why?”

“I can’t see it.”

“What can you see, honey?”

“Nothing daddy. There’s nothing. I see you, daddy, but I don’t see you. Do you know what I mean daddy? Tell me about blue.”

“No, honey. I don’t... Blue... let’s see...” He closed his eyes and tried to imagine blue. “Blue is when the sky is washed clean. Like when you are with me, it’s blue. Did you know my favourite colour is blue?”

She giggled.


He went two more times to meet Cynthia by himself until Selene accused him of cheating on her. There was a long painful talk where love were cut and patched times over. He played Selene all his recordings of Cynthia; they clearly captured the conversation and Danna’s voice.

Selene finally agreed to visit Cynthia that weekend.


He knew something was wrong when Selene didn’t bawl over when they started speaking to Cynthia. She was hesitant, curious, but very tense. He led the conversation to Cynthia’s cousins that would be visiting them next week which didn’t seem to make an impression on Cynthia.

Selene jumped at every thud the house made. The house was especially noisy that day from the moment they entered. It was clear Selene was uncomfortable with the whole ambiance. He had warned Selene of the house and its strange sounds, though there wasn’t any noise on his last visit. He had thought the spirit might have given up, or that they found some other entertainment instead of scaring away Danna’s clients. He must’ve been wrong.

“I’m sorry, they’re really excited today for some reason. I think it’s probably better if we end this session early today and try this another day.”


“So, what do you think?” He broke the silence on the way home.

“I don’t trust her,” Selene said firmly.

“How so? I told you about the things she knew about us, and you heard it too just now. There were things I never told Danna about Cynthia. She even brought up the yellow dress.”

“I know. But something doesn’t feel good. Danna feels off to me, and I don’t know… I guess speaking to her like she’s Cynthia...”

“Look, I know it’s hard. Accepting this means accepting Cynthia’s no longer in this world. I had a hard time too, the first time was hell for me especially keeping it from you.”

“You didn’t have to keep it from me. I would’ve liked to know from the beginning, and no, I’m not in denial Carl! I’m grieving. I think I’d know how to let go. It’s just that it’s not time yet.”

Carl glanced at her pursed lips and knew he was treading on water.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. We’ll take it slow.”


The doorbell rang at 11.45 PM. Behind the door stood two police officers with hats off. Carl felt his heart stop, though he had reenacted the scene multiple times over. He stepped back and aside to let them through without a word.

He knew the two police officers as they were the ones who handled the case. The last time he called them, he asked them to keep an eye on sightings around the Severn river.

They sat down on the living room sofa, their dark plain clothes against the small flower patterned fabric. Their presence swallowed the lights from the lamps beside them.

“We’ve found her.”

Selene and Carl leaned forward.

“I’m so sorry. I’m afraid we were too late. Initial report said she died about three weeks ago. They coroner will be doing a full autopsy.”

Carl wondered why they didn’t say her name out loud. Cynthia was her name, he thought in his head. Say it.

Selene hiccuped. Hic.

Carl placed his hand on her knee and swallowed. “How...?” The only question that he could push out. He was determined to hear the rest. There was plenty of time in his future to wallow, to stare off into the empty space hearing voices he could no longer hear, to blow birthday candles not on his birthday, to go to the malls and visit the children’s and watch people choosing clothes and smiling when they buy toys.

“We have identified a single suspect. We received a report from a neighbour for unusual noises. When the response unit was there, they heard noises so they checked the house and found a girl, not Cynthia, that was kidnapped. She was still alive, hidden between a partition on the top floor. She was undernourished, gagged and tied.

Hic.

“They immediately apprehended the lady who lived there and did a thorough search of the whole vicinity. They found indications of relatively fresh soil and that led to Cynthia.”

Hic.

Carl wished he could stop Selene from hiccuping. She wasn’t crying, just squeezing his arm tightly. He bit his lip.

“Didn’t she drown?”

“There isn’t any indication of that, there’s no obvious signs of struggle. Though inconclusive, it seemed she might have asphyxiated. The full report is coming very soon. If you could come for identification, that would be really good. In the morning, if that’s alright with you? So far, the clothes and items matched your descriptions.”

Hic. The clock decided to chime in with twelve inappropriate cuckoos. They sat in silence, patiently listening as if it had something important to say.

“Why?” Selene finally squeaked out.

“Well we could do DNA testing but that would take time, it would be quicker for one of you to identify her.”

Carl who heard the actual question continued, “Why Cynthia? Who is this person and what did they do with Cynthia!” His voice sounded louder than he had meant. Selene let out a whimper, her hiccup was turning into a sob.

“Ahem, well, we are still investigating, but from what we heard the suspect seemed really unwell. Mentally. The other victim said that she kept her in the dark at a tight space in the loft, sometimes the suspect would go up and talk to them kindly, and other times she’d completely ignore the girl, as if the suspect didn’t remember that she was there. When the suspect had guests over, the girl was gagged and tied so she wouldn’t cry out. All she could try was to throw herself against the wall or floor and hoped someone would hear. Unfortunately none of the guests seemed to. That day when the gag was removed to let her eat, she screamed like hell’s fury, bit the suspect’s arm and that’s how the neighbour who happened to be cleaning their loft heard her. Brave girl, she was…”

Carl’s blood drained as he shivered, came back in full force to his ears, to his skull, only to drain again as the officers continued. On and on, like an endless violent sea against a feeble rock.


That night, Carl did not sleep. Long after the police had left, and both Selene and him had spent their tears, he replayed the recordings on his phone over and over again to catch every thump and creak, as if he could hear the sound of a heartbeat fading… and the moment his lost meaning.


Thank you for reading. I always appreciate feedback good or bad, so please don’t hesitate.

The New North

Dewi

Written by

Dewi

All works: http://turtlecorner.cloudno.de/babablue

The New North

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