soldmysoul
Doctor Professor Patrick
T H E . W A T E R . T E R R O R
soldmysoul and Red Sinfonia
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The Water Terror (soldmysoul x Red Sinfonia)
- Thread starter soldmysoul
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T H E . W A T E R . T E R R O R
soldmysoul and Red Sinfonia
soldmysoul
Doctor Professor Patrick
P A R T 1 O F 2
"You know we shouldn't be out here. We'll get in a lot of trouble if we get caught." Of course he said that, Mikey was the kid who would follow along with whatever his friends did whilst allowing his anxiety to get the best of him.
"Dude, Mikey, shut up." Gavin was the oldest in the group at 12 years old, this whole thing was his idea.
***
Earlier in the day, Camp Bear Lake went about it's usual activities unbeknownst of the night to come. Lunchtime for the campers fell around the same time each day, 12 noon on the dot. Several dozen campers met outside under the sheltered picnic area to devour the food that would fuel them the rest of the day. At the large picnic table in the center of the structure sat the 'Heron' group which consisted of fifteen campers aged 9 to 12. On the other end of the picnic table sat the 'Falcons', the older kids. It was the story in which several of the Falcons were telling that lead to the near tragic events that night. Gavin Ellerbee eaves dropped on the group next to them as they shared the story of the Water Terror. The Water Terror lurked the very lake that the camp inhabited and was responsible for many mysterious deaths in the lake itself. The Water Terror was a frightening, and ruthless beast who fed on the souls of anyone he could get his hands on and sink his long fangs into. But of course, like many urban legends, the best time to catch a glimpse of this creature was to visit the docks when the sun had completely left the sky.
When lunch was over, Gavin had gathered several of his 'Heron' friends for an important discussion, or so he said. Mikey, Carlos, Brandon, Megan, and 11 year old Annabel Lee. Annabel Lee was generally a quiet girl and only attended this so called 'meeting' because Megan was her best friend at the camp. Of course, Megan only attended because she had a crush on Gavin, the troublemaker. The story of the Water Terror was shared, followed by one of Gavin's infamous ideas.
"We're going to sneak out tonight and see if we can find it! Everyone else has to be asleep though so at 1 in the morning me and the guys are gonna meet right here. If you girls want to come you can, but only if you're not scared." Gavin crossed his arms across his chest, a sly smirk plastered across his lightly freckled face as he looked at Megan, knowing she would give in.
"Yeah, duh. Of course we're coming, it'll be so cool!" The curly haired blonde looked over at Annabel, "you are coming, right?"
Annabel replied with a simple nod, despite the fact that she knew better, she was not going to let her best friend down.
***
The time had come and the small group was together once again. It was a rendezvous that would surely result in some serious disciplinary action had they been caught by one of the camp counselors.
"Alright, " Gavin turned on his flashlight and began to walk, "let's go over to the dock, we can see more of the water on it."
"You know we shouldn't be out here. We'll get in a lot of trouble if we get caught." Mikey's hands began to shake as they walked onto the pier made of partially rotted wood.
"Dude, Mikey, shut up." Gavin's walk turned to a jog as he excitedly approached the end of the dock, shining his light across the horizon of the lake.
The stars twinkled perfectly in the sky, the full moon shone bright, illuminating the camp grounds. The land around them was eerily quiet, as the rest of their fellow campers were tucked away in their cabin beds, and the only sound that could be heard was the creaking of the pier just below the weight of several children. The children quietly examined the lake in front of them to see if anything caught their attention. Nothing. The lake was motionless and resembled glass. Suddenly, the corner of the pier where young Annabel Lee, crumbled, taking her and the rotten wood into the lakes depths. Megan gasped before screaming, as three of the boys ran as fast as their little legs could take them. Megan saw no sign of her friend, not even a struggle in the water, her conscious was now at war, what should she do? It was decided that she too would run. But Gavin, Gavin was still standing in pure horror as he stared down at the water, moments later he would run away, screaming louder than any of his friends. "I saw him! He took her!"
It wasn't long after the incident that police and ambulances had arrived on the scene, the entire camp was now awake, the children on lock-down in their cabins while the staff handled the ordeal at hand. The only child out of their cabin was Megan, instead, she was with the counselors and police due to the fact that she was the only one who ran and called for help. Repeatedly she told her story to police about how she, Annabel and a couple others came down to the pier when it broke and took Annabel under. That's when she said they all ran and she ran to get help, despite seeing no sign of Annabel. The strange part of it all was, by the time the first adult arrived on the scene, Annabel was simply laying, unconscious, yet breathing, in the grass beside the lake. The mystery of how she got there would go unanswered.
soldmysoul
Doctor Professor Patrick
P A R T 2 O F 2
The cemetery grounds had become saturated in the drops of rain that fell heavily from the sky. Dozens of mourners kept dry under the tented shelter that was put in place for the burial as the rest who simply would not fit hid from the rain under their umbrellas. The service just prior was long, as hundreds were able to pay their final respects to Lieutenant Justin Reyes of the United States Navy. Lieutenant Reyes has his life cut short at the age of 28 when he was found after what appeared to be an apparent drowning while on away on deployment and his popularity as an American hero and beloved friend and family member was apparent at his funeral.
Final goodbyes were said as the official leading the burial, ended with a prayer. The crowd of people slowly began to depart the grounds where they would head to a nearby restaurant by the name of, The Partition, where the wake would commence. An hour had passed when the cemetery was quiet again, only the sounds of the raindrops could be heard as the danced across the leaves of the trees. Still, however, one guest remained, accompanying the grave site of Justin Reyes.
Her long strawberry hair, plummeted down the back of her dark, navy blue trench coat. The heels to her white shoes had already begun their descent into the mud. Anna stood beside the grave of her lover, the distant look in her eyes remained unchanged throughout most of the day. The vortex of emotion in which she was experiencing never quite settled down leaving her with the most unbearable confusion that left the knots in her stomach untangled since the day Justin died. Was there a glimmer of hope? Did this mean she would once again experience what it was like to be free? Or was he right? Would she never find anyone else who would actually want her? When Anna was sure that everyone was gone, she approached the grave until she stood directly next to it. Carefully she knelt down as she placed one final flower, a rose, onto the already massive pile. Reaching out, she wiped the rain from Justin's name as she took a deep breath, in and then out.
"So this is really goodbye." Her voice, just above a whisper. "Maybe I'll see you again someday, and- and maybe things will be different." Anna placed a small kiss onto the tips of her fingers before pressing them against the headstone before standing back up again. After four years of constant verbal and sometimes even physical abuse, she was free. But why did she feel so terrible?
Red Sinfonia
My Mother's Savage Daughter
There were few things in life that Kietsayl found he enjoyed. Gazing upon and enjoying beauty may have stolen the limelight at the top of his list, but there were also flowers - namely passion flowers and lilies - and drinking delectable souls that he had worked to perfection, like cooking. The latter, of course, was normally done by romancing the individual and taking them at their peak. So it was strange that he found one of his favorite things to date was dragging a writhing human into the depths of the ocean and drinking a torrid soul filled with acrid terror. It was like biting into a burnt cookie, but he found it the most satisfying cookie he'd ever tasted.
There was little challenge in wrapping the coils of his body around the fragile human figure, enough to keep him in place, but not enough to purple his flesh when death took him. All he had to do was wait for the water to fill his lungs and then let him go, where other humans would find him naturally against the shores. If they did, for the ocean may have chosen to take him.
In the end, it spat the corpse out as though it was poison, harrying Kietsayl to this day, the day where he stood beneath the gentleness of the rain and looked upon his self-imposed charge. She stood alone before the decorated gravestone, an empty figure where moments before, many others had crowded at her side. To the relic that represented a dead man, she offered a rose, one that joined the throng of many others.
There was a sting that wound itself into Kietsayl's chest and he briefly wondered if he'd done wrong. Hardly could he see through the torrent, but he wondered if he spotted melancholy.
It was silly, he realized. Silly that he was doing any of this.
Years ago, in this timeline, Kietsayl did not know why he did what he did. Humans called his hunting spot Camp Bear Lake, but he knew the lake's name to be Val'tas. It seemed to glean a pleasure from the inhabitants of the nearby camp, child and adult alike, so he did not target his quarry there. Instead, far across its depths, he sought hunters and cityfolk that partied by the shallow shores.
Perhaps it was the insistence of Val'tas, who spoke not in words but in urgent whispers of currents against his slick flesh, that Kietsayl saved a flailing child in the dark waters. The girl was still fighting the depths that sucked on her legs, pulling her down deeper and deeper, but she was already beginning to lose the fight. He saw it in her face. When he touched her, powerful, large arms taking up a small, delicate human child, there was an authoritative familiarity that he could not ignore. Something about her, something in her. The River. Faithfully, he returned the girl to the shore, finding it empty, to his delight. Beautiful as he was, humans did not appreciate his true form. A head that appeared a sharp-toothed horse's with plumes and streams of black; a serpentine body beneath his human chest, long and winding, colored perfectly for the shadows of lake or ocean; he was the creature lurking in their watery nightmares. If they found him cradling the human girl, it may be to her detriment.
In a torrent, Kietsayl's body flushed away from him, leaving a tall, handsome man. He placed her carefully against the sand, pushed the water from her lungs, and left her there. He had planned on returning to the lake, to leave or hunt, but there was a calling to know what was inside her. So he remained. And when he did leave, for other worlds, for other hunts, he found himself returning again and again, watching the girl grow. Annabel was her name, he learned, and the River pulsed through her.
That may have been his perfect justification then, his excuse. The River's connections were so few and far between in physical creatures, especially among humans.
Regardless, it led him to the graveyard that he stood in, a cleanly tailored suit to contain all 6'6" of him, careful against the cut of his muscle. Whatever Kietsayl had done to groom his short, black hair, it had been undone in the rain, but his eyes that were colored the waters of the world were only bolstered.
He stood far back from Annabel, watching her watch the grave, but he did not know why his legs began to move forward. Why he was walking towards her at all. Was it guilt? Truly, whether or not she felt sadness for her lover, he had done what was right. It was in his power to steal a cancer of the world and drown it, so he felt no remorse over death, but he had felt that her emotions would be more concrete over his loss. Did he know the spectrum of human loss so little? That, he was not too surprised of. "Did you love him?" Kietsayl heard himself ask, only ten or so feet away from his ward, his deep voice cutting through the rain.
There was little challenge in wrapping the coils of his body around the fragile human figure, enough to keep him in place, but not enough to purple his flesh when death took him. All he had to do was wait for the water to fill his lungs and then let him go, where other humans would find him naturally against the shores. If they did, for the ocean may have chosen to take him.
In the end, it spat the corpse out as though it was poison, harrying Kietsayl to this day, the day where he stood beneath the gentleness of the rain and looked upon his self-imposed charge. She stood alone before the decorated gravestone, an empty figure where moments before, many others had crowded at her side. To the relic that represented a dead man, she offered a rose, one that joined the throng of many others.
There was a sting that wound itself into Kietsayl's chest and he briefly wondered if he'd done wrong. Hardly could he see through the torrent, but he wondered if he spotted melancholy.
It was silly, he realized. Silly that he was doing any of this.
Years ago, in this timeline, Kietsayl did not know why he did what he did. Humans called his hunting spot Camp Bear Lake, but he knew the lake's name to be Val'tas. It seemed to glean a pleasure from the inhabitants of the nearby camp, child and adult alike, so he did not target his quarry there. Instead, far across its depths, he sought hunters and cityfolk that partied by the shallow shores.
Perhaps it was the insistence of Val'tas, who spoke not in words but in urgent whispers of currents against his slick flesh, that Kietsayl saved a flailing child in the dark waters. The girl was still fighting the depths that sucked on her legs, pulling her down deeper and deeper, but she was already beginning to lose the fight. He saw it in her face. When he touched her, powerful, large arms taking up a small, delicate human child, there was an authoritative familiarity that he could not ignore. Something about her, something in her. The River. Faithfully, he returned the girl to the shore, finding it empty, to his delight. Beautiful as he was, humans did not appreciate his true form. A head that appeared a sharp-toothed horse's with plumes and streams of black; a serpentine body beneath his human chest, long and winding, colored perfectly for the shadows of lake or ocean; he was the creature lurking in their watery nightmares. If they found him cradling the human girl, it may be to her detriment.
In a torrent, Kietsayl's body flushed away from him, leaving a tall, handsome man. He placed her carefully against the sand, pushed the water from her lungs, and left her there. He had planned on returning to the lake, to leave or hunt, but there was a calling to know what was inside her. So he remained. And when he did leave, for other worlds, for other hunts, he found himself returning again and again, watching the girl grow. Annabel was her name, he learned, and the River pulsed through her.
That may have been his perfect justification then, his excuse. The River's connections were so few and far between in physical creatures, especially among humans.
Regardless, it led him to the graveyard that he stood in, a cleanly tailored suit to contain all 6'6" of him, careful against the cut of his muscle. Whatever Kietsayl had done to groom his short, black hair, it had been undone in the rain, but his eyes that were colored the waters of the world were only bolstered.
He stood far back from Annabel, watching her watch the grave, but he did not know why his legs began to move forward. Why he was walking towards her at all. Was it guilt? Truly, whether or not she felt sadness for her lover, he had done what was right. It was in his power to steal a cancer of the world and drown it, so he felt no remorse over death, but he had felt that her emotions would be more concrete over his loss. Did he know the spectrum of human loss so little? That, he was not too surprised of. "Did you love him?" Kietsayl heard himself ask, only ten or so feet away from his ward, his deep voice cutting through the rain.
soldmysoul
Doctor Professor Patrick
The wind began to pick up, causing Anna to cross her arms over her torso for warmth. A sick, churning feel in her stomach overwhelmed her as she refused to break the stare her eyes had on head stone. Reading the name 'Justin Reyes' over and over again did absolutely nothing for her except remind her that this was in fact, real.
When the time came for her to muster the strength to leave, she would not make even the shortest of appearances at the wake, instead, she would retreat back to the home she shared with her aunt and uncle. That was where she felt the safest, tucked away in her room in the house she grew up in. Would she cry? Most likely not. In fact, Anna was convinced that she had used up all of her tears for she found it hard to cry anymore. Instead, the red haired woman would sit in her room until the knots in her stomach fell loose which would in turn leave her feeling numb and empty as she was left alone to her thoughts and sometimes, that was the worst. Her aunt, with nothing but good intention, would offer Anna a cup of tea, which Anna would politely refuse. But how long would this cycle last? The partially optimistic side of Anna hoped it was not much longer.
The voice of a man startled Anna, her heart seeming to skip a beat before she turned toward the man responsible. How dare he ask whether she loved him or not, of course she did. Anna and Justin had been together for four years and just the past several months, Justin had even brought up the idea of turning Annabel into Mrs. Reyes. Yes I loved him. Why do you think I'm here? Who even are you? The response that she came up with in her head varied completely to the response that she actually spoke.
"I loved him a lot." Her voice was soft, a bit hoarse from the previous days spent in tears. Anna took the next few moments to look the man over, something about him seemed so familiar but as far as she knew, he was a total stranger. She wondered why he was still here, and why he was asking her what seemed like such an obscure question in the moment. And there was something else about him, something about the way he stood there that sent a chill down her spine.
When the time came for her to muster the strength to leave, she would not make even the shortest of appearances at the wake, instead, she would retreat back to the home she shared with her aunt and uncle. That was where she felt the safest, tucked away in her room in the house she grew up in. Would she cry? Most likely not. In fact, Anna was convinced that she had used up all of her tears for she found it hard to cry anymore. Instead, the red haired woman would sit in her room until the knots in her stomach fell loose which would in turn leave her feeling numb and empty as she was left alone to her thoughts and sometimes, that was the worst. Her aunt, with nothing but good intention, would offer Anna a cup of tea, which Anna would politely refuse. But how long would this cycle last? The partially optimistic side of Anna hoped it was not much longer.
The voice of a man startled Anna, her heart seeming to skip a beat before she turned toward the man responsible. How dare he ask whether she loved him or not, of course she did. Anna and Justin had been together for four years and just the past several months, Justin had even brought up the idea of turning Annabel into Mrs. Reyes. Yes I loved him. Why do you think I'm here? Who even are you? The response that she came up with in her head varied completely to the response that she actually spoke.
"I loved him a lot." Her voice was soft, a bit hoarse from the previous days spent in tears. Anna took the next few moments to look the man over, something about him seemed so familiar but as far as she knew, he was a total stranger. She wondered why he was still here, and why he was asking her what seemed like such an obscure question in the moment. And there was something else about him, something about the way he stood there that sent a chill down her spine.
Red Sinfonia
My Mother's Savage Daughter
There was a bloated pause as Kietsayl consumed what Annabel had said to him, what she had admitted. Briefly, his gaze turned to the sky, drinking in the image of the dismal clouds that wept onto the earth beneath. Had he made a mistake in following a child who burned with love for her abuser? Who had forgiven the human that made her cry, made her hurt, made her bleed? Had he been wrong that the River ran through her veins? Surely not, for when he'd held her as a child, he'd heard the River's pulse, as strong and as powerful as the heart in his chest. He had been sure that the River had called from her body, but it simply could not be possible that one who had the River rushing through her blood would allow herself to love that which attacked her.
The reminder of his ignorance in the ways of humans and their complicated emotions brushed against Kietsayl's mind again.
Perhaps she did have a piece of the River, driving her strong against even the hardest of obstacles, the most jagged of cliffs that life had to offer, but perhaps she also had glimmers of human in her, making her love the cliffs that much more, despite their teeth.
In the end, it wasn't emotions in general that Kietsayl misunderstood, he felt. It was... this convoluted mess that he could not get past.
Kietsayl returned his eyes back down to Annabel. He didn't know why he'd spoken. He had been determined, before, to be the silent force in her life, vigilant and protecting. Once he'd spoken, he'd opened that communication, and made the situation all the more perplexing to him. What was he to say to her now? You shouldn't? I'm sorry? Anything he said could only inflame or confuse them both, but his mouth mysteriously worked against his will anyway. "Why?" He asked, a solid sound against the rain, the splash of a rock dropping in a still pond. "Even if he tormented you?" He continued after a moment.
The reminder of his ignorance in the ways of humans and their complicated emotions brushed against Kietsayl's mind again.
Perhaps she did have a piece of the River, driving her strong against even the hardest of obstacles, the most jagged of cliffs that life had to offer, but perhaps she also had glimmers of human in her, making her love the cliffs that much more, despite their teeth.
In the end, it wasn't emotions in general that Kietsayl misunderstood, he felt. It was... this convoluted mess that he could not get past.
Kietsayl returned his eyes back down to Annabel. He didn't know why he'd spoken. He had been determined, before, to be the silent force in her life, vigilant and protecting. Once he'd spoken, he'd opened that communication, and made the situation all the more perplexing to him. What was he to say to her now? You shouldn't? I'm sorry? Anything he said could only inflame or confuse them both, but his mouth mysteriously worked against his will anyway. "Why?" He asked, a solid sound against the rain, the splash of a rock dropping in a still pond. "Even if he tormented you?" He continued after a moment.
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