The Water Cycle

Francine gripped the sides of the tub as best she could and pulled herself up into a sitting position. She spat and sputtered as the water splashed down all around her. Giggling, she swiped her dripping hair away from her eyes and gave them a rub. Dunking her head under the water had always been her favorite part of bath time.

As she surveyed the bathroom, she noticed that something had changed. Her mother wasn't there. Weird, she thought. S''he was here when I dunked my head under. Maybe the phone rang?''

Francine stood up carefully and grabbed the towel that hung on the rack nearby. She hastily dried and wrapped herself and headed for the bathroom door. When she opened it, a chill invaded the room and struck her to the bone. She had had enough baths to know that air always felt cold against wet skin, but this was more than cold. It seemed icy.

"Mom?" she called. There was no answer. All was silent. Francine began to worry. Usually, she could hear her mother talking if she were on the phone. Even with just the two of them living there, the house was almost never so quiet.

Slowly, Francine stepped into the hallway. She called again, "Mom?" Again, no answer came. By now, she had reached the kitchen door. She rounded the corner and stepped into the room, and terror seized her little body.

There, sitting in her favorite chair, was Francine's mother. She was slumped over onto the table with her head on her arms and her face hidden. Beneath her on the table was a growing pool of red which had begun to drip over the edge and onto the floor.

Francine screamed. Hot tears blurred her vision. She yelled for her mother to rise, or show some sign of life, but nothing came. She searched her child mind for what to do, at last remembering the number she'd been told to call in case of emergencies. This was an emergency if she'd ever seen one, so she turned and grabbed the home phone off the wall. As she pressed it to her ear, her problems only grew. Not so much as a dial tone could be heard. She tried frantically to push the buttons, but nothing ever went through. Frustrated, she let the phone fall to the floor and whipped back around to face her mother.

The sight that met her eyes only filled her with more confusion and terror. Her mother was gone, and in her place where three men. They were dressed head to toe in what looked like some kind of white spacesuit. One was spraying some kind of liquid on the floor while the other two had begun to move the table. Francine screamed, but none of the men seemed to notice. Who were they? How had they gotten past her? And what had they done with her mother? She was hurt and needed help!

Feeling as if a flame had been lit beneath her, Francine ran. It was instinct more than reason that guided her out of the room and down the hall to the front door. There, she gripped the handle and twisted and pulled, all to no avail. The door simply would not open. She tried turning the knob this way and that. She pushed, she pulled, she kicked and screamed until at last, defeated and sobbing she pressed her back up against the hardwood and slid down into a pile on the floor.

It was only then that she could see the hallway behind her. Again, everything had changed, but even more dramatically now than before. The place looked absolutely ruined. The house was dark, but there was just enough light given by the streetlamp outside allowing her to see the trashed that lined the floor. The walls were covered with spray painted faces, symbols, and curse words.

Francine was stunned into silence. Only her own panting breaths filled the darkened space. This was not the house she'd been in only moments ago. This was not the hallway she'd walked down when she came out of the bathroom. It couldn't be, could it?

A different set of sounds came to Francine's ears. "This is the place," said a voice behind the door.

"Are you sure?" said another.

"Yeah," said the first voice. "This was the address on the website. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

A loud bang sent Francine flying from where she sat. She scrambled to her feet, but could do nothing else as fear gripped her yet again. She stared at the front door. There came another bang and the door sailed open, smacking loudly into the wall. There stood two young men dressed in black. As they moved toward her, she saw that they wore backpacks that looked uncomfortably full. They carried flashlights, and each held a strange device she'd never seen before. Just like the men she'd seen in the kitchen, these boys seemed completely unaware of her presence, but this did nothing to calm Francine.

Finding her feet beneath her, Francine turned and ran into the closest room, the bathroom. This room, too, had completely deteriorated since she'd last been in it, filled now with the same trash and graffiti as the hallway. There was no time to wonder about it now, Francine told herself. She had to hide.

She pulled back a corner of the tattered shower curtain. Below, the tub was filled with a murky, foul-smelling liquid that might once have been water. The thought of letting the water touch her nearly made her wretch, but as the young men's footsteps approached, she realized she had little choice. As quietly as she could, she stepped into the tub and closed the curtain behind her. The tub itself was slippery. Francine felt a thick slime squishing beneath her feet and between her toes. She wanted to cry out in disgust, but held it in as best she could.

It was then that the men stopped outside the room.

"This must be the bathroom," said one.

"Is this where...."

"Yeah. Back in the eighties, some lady went crazy and drowned her daughter in the bathtub before slitting her wrists in the kitchen. I've seen the crime scene photos. They’re pretty sick."

Francine could contain herself no longer. She let a sob escape her lips.

"Did you hear that?" one man asked the other.

"Dude!" said the other man. "Tell me you're rolling. If we catch a ghost on video...."

Francine had stopped listening. She no longer felt afraid. She no longer felt anything. Not even pain. Numbness of every sense overtook her as every muscle in her body suddenly ceased to cooperate. She fell against the wall and slid down into the dark liquid, putting up no fight whatsoever as it washed over her, covering her nose, her mouth, her eyes. Before long, all was black and silent….

Francine gripped the sides of the tub as best she could and pulled herself up into a sitting position. She spat and sputtered as the water splashed down all around her. Giggling, she swiped her dripping hair away from her eyes and gave them a rub. Dunking her head under the water had always been her favorite part of bath time.