Way Down

My parents have gone away for a few weeks so I have to look after the house, and since they can’t find a kennel that will take our dog I have to care for her, too. I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do for them after they agreed to let me stay at home while I try and get a job.

Lola isn’t too fussy either. A walk in the morning and one at night is all she needs to settle her enough to let me get on with my day. The route we take is long but familiar, up through the woods and down to the loch then back the way we came. It’s fairly remote so we rarely come across other dog walkers. Or anyone, for that matter. That’s why it stood out so much more when I met him.

We were a few days into our new little routine by that point. The weather was uncharacteristically nice that morning, and I decided to take my time as we walked beneath the forest canopy. I let Lola off the lead when we reached the loch, looking around for a good stick to throw for her. We stayed there playing fetch for a good twenty minutes until I threw the stick again and Lola didn’t come back. It disappeared into the woods and she went bounding after it but five minutes went by and I saw no sign of her coming back. I wanted to panic. Three days in and I’ve already lost the dog, my parents are going to go mental. I started walking towards the edge of the tree line, calling Lola’s name in the hopes she would come back. I don’t really know what I expected since she’s not very well trained. But she hasn’t ever run away from me like this before since she’s usually so lazy. I start to hurry up, tripping over tree roots as I follow the sound of her paws away from the path and further into the trees.

I’d chased her halfway around the loch by the time I spotted her black fur near the waters edge. I slow my pace as I go up to her, gasping for air. I’ve never been particularly athletic.

“Lola! Oh my goodness I thought I lost you!”

The high pitched, squeaky tone dies in my throat when I realise my dog isn’t on her own. Petting her is a boy soaked with water, his hair so sopping wet that it drips onto the stones. It distracts me from my embarrassment because although I just got caught talking in the voice I use for my pets, surely he feels more awkward about looking like he’s fallen into the loch. Apparently I’m wrong, because he looks up and addresses me like it’s completely normal.

“Oh, is this your dog?”

The absurdity of the situation makes my brain stall for a moment before the question clicks. I laugh awkwardly, clipping Lola’s lead back on in case she takes the opportunity to run away again.

“Yeah, she doesn’t normally run off like this… are you okay? You look like you fell in.”

I tilt my head in the direction of the water and he seems to understand. He laughs, looking slightly embarrassed.

“I have a dog as well, but he can’t swim. He chased a duck into the loch so I had to come to his rescue.”

His explanation checks out. He’s holding a dog’s lead in the hand that isn’t still buried in Lola’s fur. I take the opportunity to really look at him. There’s something very androgynous about his appearance and if I was paying any less attention I would have thought he was a girl. A cute girl too, he’s exactly my type. It’s almost uncanny. I want to keep the conversation moving so I speak up.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, are you just visiting?”

He shakes his head, gesturing vaguely behind him towards the trees.

“No, I live with my dad. We just moved in a few months ago.”

That also makes sense. My parents did say they’d seen an older man walking his dog on the other side of the loch recently. It stuck out to them because the dog only had three legs, and my mom has a soft spot for disabled animals. Lola starts tugging on the lead and I check my phone to see I’ve been out for two hours.

“Oh shit, I need to get back home. It was nice meeting you.”

He smiles, nodding but I don’t miss the way his eyes linger curiously on my phone.

“You too. Maybe I’ll see you later?”

I shrug.

“Yeah, maybe.”

I do see him after that. And maybe I start extending the walks with Lola but that’s nobody’s else’s business but mine. His name is Caleb. He’s a lot less soggy when I speak to him after that, and I get a better idea of what he looks like. His mousy hair is long and shaggy, coming down to his bony shoulders. I learn that he’s a bit of an over-sharer and I find out his entire life story in the span of three hours. He’s adopted, which explains why his dad seems too old to have a nineteen year old son. We talk a lot, about his life and mine. He’s into true crime just like me and we spend hours talking about the weird stuff going on in America with people going missing and alleged sightings of a tall man with no face connecting them. By the middle of the third week I’ve started walking up through the woods without even bringing Lola with me.

Things go south the day after. I wake up with a blinding headache and I don’t even have to wake up fully to recognise that I’m sick. It’s highly likely it’s just a cold but I don’t want to risk making it worse by dragging myself up through the woods. The weather has turned and there’s heavy fog surrounding the house. Lola will have to make do with the back garden. I spend most of my day feeling sorry for myself and watching stupid horror movies.

At least there’s plenty to entertain myself with. My dad has a whole shelf full of books about myths and folklore that I’ve been meaning to borrow. One that interests me the most is the kelpie, a shapeshifting water dweller that takes the form of a horse. Curious children get on its back but become unable to get off again, and the kelpie drags them down to the bottom of the loch to drown and eat them. A cautionary tale to stop kids from going near large bodies of water, but one that doesn’t hold up well in modern society.

I’m halfway through the worst slasher I’ve ever seen and seconds away from abandoning it entirely when I hear sirens. I drag my blanket-wrapped body to my window to see the flashing blue lights of multiple police cars driving up into the woods. My stomach drops, and I fumble with my phone to see what’s happening.

The pictures on the news articles are blurred except for the portrait of a young woman around my age. A little digging brings up a few sketchy websites that have the uncensored photos, ones that make my stomach turn. Thrown across the same pebbled shore I’ve walked Lola across just days before are the insides of the same nineteen year old girl who’s face is plastered all over local news articles. Her guts have been washed clean in the loch. I think it would have been less grotesque if there was still blood coating them. There are a few online forums discussing what looks like a white smudge between tree branches in one of the photos, and even though I’m into conspiracy theories this seems like it’s in bad taste. Or maybe it just hits a little too close to home.

My parents ring me later that night sounding panicked. Their flight home has been delayed and they can’t get back for another week, but they’ve seen the news and they’re terrified for me. I reassure them that I’m fine and that the police are looking out for me but really I’m just as scared for my safety as they are.

The search continues for a few more days and in that time I’m on lockdown until they clear the area. When they determine that the rest of the body is nowhere to be found they move the investigation elsewhere and I take the opportunity to go back to the loch. I pass the police tape on my way, but obviously the organs have since been cleared. The other side of the loch has no caution tape and I take that as an invitation to head over there. I don’t even reach the waters edge before someone grabs my shoulder. I spin around, relaxing once I recognise who it is. His deep brown eyes are wide with fear and his voice is shaking slightly.

“Oh thank god, you didn’t come back for a few days, I thought..I thought you were..”

I shake my head, hesitantly reaching out a hand to rest it on his shoulder.

“I’m alright, I just had a cold…Jesus, who would do something like that?”

He blinks.

“You had a what?”

I frown. Surely he’s joking.

“You know, a cold? When you get a virus in your system and it knocks you out for a few days?”

He nods, but I get the strangest feeling he doesn’t actually understand what I mean. Either way it’s not my main priority right now. I scribble my number on the pad of sticky notes I have in my pocket, handing him the bright yellow square. He takes it like he has no idea what I’m giving him. I clarify for him.

“It’s my number, in case anything happens. We’re the only two houses here, we should look out for each other.”

He nods, shoving the paper in the pocket of his worn jeans. They look far too big on him, or maybe he’s just too skinny. Before I leave he stops me.

“You should come back tomorrow, I have something I need to talk to you about.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell me now?”

He blushes slightly, fidgeting with his hands.

“No, I, uh… want to make it special..”

Oh. I nod, heat rising in my own cheeks. I can work with that.

I walk back down through the woods but the sound of voices stops me in my tracks. The same old man my parents had apparently seen walking his dog around the loch is in heated conversation with a couple of police officers still monitoring the area.

“I don’t care if you’re busy, I have a crime that I need to report! It’s not my fault you can’t be bothered to do your jobs!”

One of the two officers sighs, looking tired.

“For the last time, a girl has just been murdered. Your ‘stolen’ clothes can wait.”

Technically I’m not supposed to be up here, so I quickly make my way back down to my house. Though I do wonder why Caleb never mentioned a break in.

The next day can’t come quickly enough. I put more effort into my appearance than I usually do, and I sneak into my mom’s room to use her perfume. Is sneaking off into the same woods a girl recently got brutally mutilated in just to go on a date insensitive? Probably. I can’t bring myself to care though. Before I leave my eyes catch on my dad’s pocket knife sat on the kitchen counter. He couldn’t take it through the airport so he left it behind. I debate with myself for a few minutes before I grab it. Better to be safe than sorry.

When I reach the loch it’s already late. He’s already sat by the water, his pale skin looking almost luminescent in the moonlight. To be fair I probably look the same, I don’t get much sun. He smiles when he sees me. I sit down next to him, looking out across the water and we talk for a bit longer. I feel nervous this time. Then he stands up, taking my hand and pulling me towards the water.

“Hey, I’m gonna get wet!”

He grins, dragging me in after him.

“What, you’re not into wild swimming?”

I laugh, but then I watch his face change as the smile disappears from his face. His grip on my hand tightens slightly and he starts dragging me further in. I laugh nervously, trying to pull my hand away.

“Dude, I can’t swim with my clothes on.”

He doesn’t answer me. I try pulling my hand away again but this time I realise he’s not holding it anymore. My hand is stuck to his, and no matter how hard I try my fingers are cemented to him. I trip over my trousers, landing face first in the water. Panic sets in and I try to scream but my head won’t stay above water. He’s not struggling at all as he drags me to the bottom of the loch, and I see his face change. His eyes darken to black and his mouth stretches wider, showing rows of sharp fangs. Then I see hooved feet and my stomach drops. I’m struggling to breathe now. Just below me, right at the very bottom of the loch, I can see the remains of human bones. I feel hopeless until I remember the pocket knife. I fumble with it, stabbing it straight into his arm. He doesn’t flinch, and my heart sinks. But I get another idea. Bracing myself, I slice through each of my fingers. Blood erupts from the cut, staining the water red and I scream in pain. I don’t stop until each of my fingers are gone and my hand is free. I kick hard even though I feel lightheaded, finally breaking the surface of the water and letting adrenaline carry me to shore. I wrap my hand tightly in my hoodie, stumbling down through the woods until I reach my house. I doubt he followed me but I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that looking back could cost me my life. Lola barks at me as I fumble with my phone, resting it on the counter so I can dial the emergency services.

I botched my amputated fingers pretty horrifically, and I need a lot of medical treatment to get it fixed. My parents were so freaked out when they get back home that I don’t think they’re going to let me buy my own flat until they’re certain I won’t be attacked again. The police believed my statement about attempted drowning since it linked to the earlier case, and they suspected he may have drowned himself to avoid being prosecuted. Since I knew him on a personal level he tried to take me down with him. I didn’t tell them about the hooves, or the fangs.

They searched every inch of that loch, and the surrounding forest.

But they found nothing.

Credit: xbonniebunnyx