Lake Bottomless

A girl and her brother escape from their brutal father inside their own fantasy world of adventures. Now they have to do it for real.

   ME an Robert ain't ever been to town. The closest we got was four miles down the road before Father caught up with us.

   But plenty townies come down here in their seven-seaters on their way to the forest. Father's friends are endlessly complainin bout the litter they drop, but I don’t mind it. Empty cigarette packets, ole broken tapes, burger wrappers, they all line our road. An, when you get a heavy storm, all these forgotten bits of trash get swept along the gutters an down the storm drain in the big dip in the road, ready to start a new life somewhere far, far away. Now an again some of the trash is so big it won't squeeze down, but blocks the drain right up, so rain fills the dip up like a great big bath. Before you even know it it’s become a lake of unfathomable depths. That’s what Robert calls it: Lake Bottomless.

 

   “Lookit what I found, Laurie!”

Robert's head bobs up from the deeps as he yells over to me, arm high overhead. “Watch out fer those arrers!” I shout back. We're cowboys huntin fer treasure, duckin an divin to dodge the injuns' darts, which sting the surface of our lake till it bubbles like a witch's cauldron. Robert wades over to me an opens his right hand.
   “Lookit that,” he says. He spreads his palm an I see a rusted locket, so dull now it looks like a scarab beetle with its wings folded up, scared of our touch.
“It's beautiful Robert,” I cry. “It could’ve belonged to a princess!”
“It prob’ly did,” he tells me. “Her grandmother told her it contained a picture of her true love. But she could never get it to open so she didn’t know which prince she should marry, an she died of a lonely heart.”
   Robert trudges over an puts the locket under the tree, away from the rain. We also got Mother Theresa's rosary beads there, the ones she had as a girl my age, an a shiny, sharp bit of metal. Robert says it's the tip of Excalibur. The Lady of the Lake practised in Lake Bottomless before she got good enough fer her very own pond, he told me, an as she left she accidentally raked King Arthur's sword along the ground with her. He didn't notice all those years later though, on account of bein so besotted with her beauty. I look round but Robert's already dived back in. The cauldron's really sizzlin now, I'm afraid I'm gonna boil right up an all my brother will find when he comes up is my skull an crossbones an he'll think pirates took me. I play a bit at dodgin the arrers but not even John Wayne would've stood a chance.
   Robert's still not surfaced. “Robert?” I ask the grey sky. “Robert? You down there?” I ask the water, waist high.
“Robert? Robert where are you!” I shout.
   Nothin.
   Then, all a sudden, his grinnin face splashes up right in fronta me.
“I got somethin fer you, Laurie,” he says between great gasps as he sucks in the air an shakes his wet hair like a wild dog. He turns an grins again an I see a little doll girl in his hand. “This's what clogged up the lake this time, our quest is over!”
   I clutch the doll. She's beautiful, with a mane of long brown hair an a dress that looks like it used to be blue.
   “She's called a Barbie I think,” he tells me. “Her hair's meanta be blonde but I guess the mud got to it. Anyway, it makes her look a bit like you, so I made sure I didn't come up without her.”
   “Thank you Robert, she’s lovely,” I smile, huggin him. The sky growls an all a sudden I can feel the cold. Far away I see headlights cuttin through the darkness, like two cigarettes burnin holes in yer arm, an I freeze. “Father's comin,” I say. “Father's comin, Robert. C'mon, let's go inside.” But he don't move. He just keeps starin at the lights, nothin else. His t-shirt's soaked through an it sticks to him like bubblegum round yer mouth. The thunder rolls again, louder this time. I go over an tug his sleeve, but he don't budge.
   “Robert, you okay?” I ask. “C'mon, let's go inside.” Finally he turns to me an smiles.
   “Sure Laurie, let's go in, I'm getting chilly out here. Let's grab our treasure an we'll go get dinner started.”
   He picks up Mother Theresa's beads an the locket an, when he thinks I'm not lookin, shoves Excalibur into his back pocket.

 

* * * 

   “Don't help her! I said don't help her!”

   Fer one horrible second I think Robert's bout to say somethin, but he looks down at the floor obediently an returns to his seat.
   “She's gotta learn one day,” says Father, sat at the table in his checked shirt an muddy work boots. “Can't have a woman round the house that can't cook, Robbie. God knows she's good fer nothin else.”
   I try to crack the eggs fer omelettes like Robert's showed me but I end up shakin so much I just dent them all over without breakin the shells. Finally I crack em into the pan an burn my fingers pickin out the bits of shell, wipin em on my dress. Barbie's head sticks out of a pocket sewn on its left side. I'm giving her the grand tour. As I grab the plates she sees the drawins we used to do fer Mama still stuck on the pin board: colours mix an swirl into distant memories. I turn round quick an tip the omelettes onto three plates an she gets to see our white walls all covered in gristle an grease, Father's pipe ash strewn cross the knotted wooden table tops an that one small window I used to leap to look outta when I was younger, hopin fer a glimpse of town. I come over with the plates, two in each hand an another in the crook of my arm. Father's readin the cartoons in the paper, smokin his pipe, Robert eyein me all anxious. I know he wants to help but I look down at my feet.
   “Here y'are Robert,” I smile. “Father.”
   My brother’s knife an fork scrape slowly cross his plate. I hand Father his breakfast an go to sit down, but I can't " he's grabbed my arm. He gazes at me with bloodshot eyes an leans close to my skin, breathin in deep. His cheeks are rough with stubble, like the road in winter, littered with dead twigs an rottin branches.
   “Yer flesh's soft. Like yer mother's,” he whispers, breath stale an warm on my wrist, his hand runnin slowly up an down my arm. It prickles an I fight the urge to pull away. Robert's cutlery scrapes against his plate louder. It feels like a spider’s stalkin cross the surface of my body, findin the spot its bite'll hurt the most. I start to strain an Father scowls.
   “Yer skin's smooth, but you smell like s**t!” he spits violently, lettin go of me as I pull back.
   “No!” Robert shouts " I crash backward against the wall an cry out in pain as the back of my head hits it hard. Father begins to laugh an I feel bile buildin in the back of my throat but I clench my eyes so tight little gold stars explode cross my vision an I manage to hold it in.
   “Robert, don't!” I cry " he’s started walkin toward Father, who's sat back in his chair, surveyin the scene with a smile. Robert's jaw's tremblin, he tries to talk but all that comes out are strangled beginnins, the sounds a child makes tryin to say his first word. Father gets up outta his chair, the smile slidin off his face.
   “Please don't hurt him, Father, please don’t hurt Robert,” I beg. I shut my eyes again. I wish I could shut my ears too. Oh God I do.

   Robert’s crumpled up next to me; I can hear his ragged breathin. I open my eyes an see the bump above his left brow.
   “Get the rifle, Robert,” Father grunts, catchin his breath. “We're goin huntin.”
   My brother blinks to ward off the tears prickin the corners of his eyes.    “On-only if Laurie comes too.” Fer a moment I think Father's going to start on him again, but instead he just shrugs his shoulders an throws the keys fer him to load the truck.

 

* * *

 

   The sky stretches out above us like a grey tarpaulin.
   Me an Robert are in the backseats with the gun at our feet, Robert rubbin his brow where the bruise is already turnin purple as we come closer an closer to the forest. Black trees wait to greet us on the horizon an jump in an outta view as our ole rusted truck launches up an down on the bumpy road, like a ship caught in a storm.
   “What you readin?” I whisper to my brother. He’s lookin hard at a small rectangle bent at the edges. He glances up, makes sure Father’s lookin at the road, an leans over to me, grinnin " the skin of his split lip stretches, makin him frown. “It’s a postcard, Laurie, from a frienda mine.    You send em to people when yer somewhere better than they are. Here, have a look.” Father has the radio on so we can talk quiet. Keepin it below the backrest of the front seats, Robert passes it over to me. There’s a lot of tall, silver buildins in blue skies an an ole brown one with people millin outside in black bow ties an huge dresses.
   “Where’s this?” I ask, eyes wide.
   “Town, Laurie, town.” Robert almost don’t say the words at all he’s that quiet. He flips it over an instead of the neat scribbles I expected, somebody’s drawn a loada trees in black pen. The biggest one has somethin scrawled up its trunk, but the writin’s tiny. The truck jerks sharply to the left an stops an Robert stuffs the postcard back into his jeans. The side door swings open an the cold creeps in, an unwelcome passenger. Another clambers after it. Father’s work buddy, Lloyd.
   “Good to see ya Frank,” the fat man gruffs out as he sits next to Father, shakin his hand.
   “Hullo, Lloyd.”
   The red-nosed man turns to face us in the back, showin all the thin, strainin capillaries in his face as he leers right at me.
   “Hullo, Laurie. My, my, you’ve grown haven’t you? S’only been a few months since I last saw you but now lookatcha, yer almost a woman.”
He puts his hand on my knee to steady himself as Father drives. “Say Frank, if you come a cropper this trip then don’t worry bout her " I’m happy to take her in,” he drawls, chucklin to himself as Father says nothin.

* * *

 
   The forest is shrinkin under the darkenin sky as Father an Lloyd take thick swigs from Father’s hip flask. Sittin on the sodden ground I feel my legs grow damp, breath mistin in the air. Robert's crouched next to em, restin Father’s rifle on a fallen tree as he tries to take aim. We’ve spent the last few hours crunchin every branch underfoot an talkin loud so’s to scare off any animals, but Lloyd still managed to spot one.
   “You wanna hit her right in the boiler room, boy,” says Father. “C’mon now, show me yer a man.”
   The deer’s bout sixty yards off, cloaked in the early winter evenin darkness. I can hear Robert’s breathin get faster as he looks down the rifle’s sights.
   “I ... I don’t want to, Father, she’s so young.”
   “You little chickenshit. What are you, scared?”
   “No!” Robert’s voice comes out louder than he meant fer. “No,” he repeats, a little calmer. “I just … don’t wanna shoot her.”
   Father takes an almighty swig of whiskey an starts coughin, then wrenches the rifle from Robert’s grip.
   Lloyd pipes up. “Why not let his lil sister show him how it’s done, Frank? Why, I’ll help her myself.”
   Father nods. “Laurie, come here.”
   I walk slowly up to the fallen tree, head bowed. “I don’t wanna shoot her either, Father.”
   Lloyd wards Father off an puts his arm round me.
   “Don’t worry Laurie, it’s just a lil fawn,” Lloyd says. “Y’know, sometimes when I pass through the forest I hear lots of lil far-off pops an bangs. An I think how wunnerful it all sounds, like a distant fireworks show. Lots of rifles an guns all doin what they’re meant to do, fulfillin their purpose.” He makes those last three words last. “An so are the deer, too. They’re born into this world fer us to shoot em, Laurie, whether we do it today, next week, or even a coupla years from now. They might think they’re free, an it’s nice fer them that they do. But they can’t survive outta this forest. There’s no other woodland fer miles, what would they eat? No, they can’t leave. So they just survive the best they can, it’s their nature.”
   He leans closer an settles himself behind me, placin my hands onto the cool steel an wood of the gun with his own wrapped round mine. All a sudden his voice drops like a man fallin.

   “Men hunt, deer flee. We can’t help what we are can we, Laurie? Yer either a hunter or yer his prey. Which are you, I wonder?”
I crouch over the gun, tremblin. Lloyd’s rough hands turn the rifle toward the fawn.
   “Look down the scope,” he mutters into my ear. I look an see the deer much closer, tuggin at a knoll of frosty grass. “We wanna hit her in the boiler room, you know what that is? It’s yer heart an lungs " that’s a clean hit.” He puts a hand on my own judderin heart, showin me. Even with the cold I feel the warmth flood through my breast an I fight the urge to recoil. The deer’s straight ahead now.
   “It’s time. Let’s c**k the gun an shoot, Laurie,” Lloyd breathes. At the click of the bullet enterin the chamber the fawn turns. Its coat’s brown, like a teddy bear.
   “Now!” Lloyd shouts, an I feel his finger pressin into mine an onto the trigger. I cry with pain as I try not to push it down.
   “What you doin, you stupid girl?” he shouts. The deer hears us an starts to move off, scared, but Lloyd turns the gun to track her. I can’t resist his force anymore but as he pushes down on the trigger I duck my head an bite him on the arm. His cry mingles with the thud of the gunshot an the scream of the deer in the cold air as the bullet enters her hind leg.
   “You f****n b***h,” Lloyd yells, kickin me to the floor. “You made me miss!” He sits on the mossy tree cradlin his arm as Father runs over.
   “Laurie you worthless piece of s**t!” he shouts. “What the f**k is wrong with you? She’s got away!”
   Joy flows through me hearin those last three words.
   “She made me bleed Frank, she f****n made me bleed.”
Father ignores him.
   “Laurie, Robert, go to where the deer was. She’ll have left a trail from her leg.”
   “Frank? Let’s leave it fer tonight, huh? It’s gettin dark an we need to get back to the truck,” Lloyd whimpers.
   Father don’t reply, an me an Robert step over the tree an start walkin. Brambles tug at my trousers, pleadin with me not to go as we enter the growin darkness. I grasp Robert’s hand. “Please God let it rain, please, please let it rain,” I say. Robert squeezes my fingers an we march fer what seems an age. I keep prayin under my breath till we reach the spot where the fawn was. I groan. There’s a red stain on a nearby rock. “Let’s just tell Father we don’t see anythin,” I say.
   “He’ll only come over to check, you know he will,” Robert tells me. But the spot of blood suddenly jumps as if it was alive, an runs down the side of the rock face.
   “Laurie, look!” Robert cries. The blood turns a lighter an lighter red as it jumps an jumps again, dozens of raindrops now washin the rock clean. We start to laugh, an the shoosh of the downpour gets louder an louder till soon there’s nothin left in the world but me, Robert and our laughter. Father’s calls fer us to return come through the veil of water, like he's a millyun miles away.

  

* * *

 
   “Laurie? Laurie, wake up.”
   I’m jostled awake by Robert. Faint moonlight shines through my window, turnin him into a figure from an ole black an white movie. 
   “What is it?” I say, all groggy.
   “I’m goin to look fer that deer, she must be in pain. You wanna come?”
   “Can we help her?” I ask, but I scramble outta bed all the same an start pullin on my muddy jeans an jacket. “What bout Father?”
   “Don’t worry, he’s out drinkin with Lloyd, they’ve been gone since dinner. I know what to do, we’ve gotta bandage her leg an remove the bullet. It’s easy.”
   Outside the rainclouds have disappeared, replaced by fog thick as black coffee. We go round the back of our house, push back the broken chain link fence an creep past the chicken coop, where our two rusted bikes are propped up against the wall. It takes all my strength to lift mine up outta the mud an wheel it onto the road. Lake Bottomless is back after the rain but I can barely see anythin in the mist and nearly fall straight in.
   “How’re we gonna find our way in this, Robert?”
   “Don’t worry, I know where the deer should be. You remember Tom?”    Tom's Robert’s age, he came campin with his family here last summer.
   “Yeah, I liked him.”
   “Well, that day you were ill we went out explorin an we stumbled cross the deer late at night. I still remember the way.”
   We start ridin through the mist.
   “Robert, what time is it?”
   I hear his bike chain whirrin through the fog, feelin as if I’m in the middle of one of Father’s puffs of pipe smoke.
   “Bout midnight.”
   We zip through the darkness in silence, relyin on our bike lights to guide the way, till after forty minutes or so the ground starts to get uneven. Robert jumps off his bike, unzips his backpack an pulls out the big torch Father keeps in the back of the truck. The sweet smell of evergreen wafts down as we start climbin up the slope, the cold tinglin at my fingers an shoulders, pryin fer a way through my duffel jacket an gloves. Before long the mist’s grip starts to loosen an we can see a bit farther. After another half hour or so Robert stops an whispers fer me to come closer. The moon shines down through the mist an we can make out the shapes of sleepin deer. There’s loads of em dotted bout, chests risin an fallin in time with my own breathin. A few are awake an amble bout, lookin at us with curious faces. Then a pained bleatin comes from further inside the woods an at the sound Robert walks faster into the undergrowth. I stumble after him an we soon find her. She’s lost her footin somehow an is there, lyin on her side. Her huge ears an the downy fur on her back are the same I saw earlier, but her left hind leg is a shock of wet, red-brown tufts where the blood's got plastered in.
   “Poor thing,” Robert says, steppin closer to her. She looks at him with wide, unblinkin eyes. He dumps his bag an pulls out a roll of bandages an some tweezers.
   “Hold the light close, Laurie,” he says. I pick the weighty torch up an crouch beside him. He fumbles round in the glow till he gets a holda the bullet, makin the fawn jump, but it won't come out. Robert frowns an tugs at it, gruntin, but the poor animal just bleats in pain. “Easy, easy,” Robert soothes her. “It’s in pretty deep, Laurie. Can you shine the light closer?” I bend lower an the light shows up the blood an bits on Robert’s hands from the fleshy hole. He digs in again with his fingers an I wince as the deer cries out. “Robert, we’re hurtin her,” I say. But Robert keeps goin. The fawn screams now as Robert's fingers plunge deeper. “Hold her down!” Robert shouts at me. I push her back as she tries to get up but her legs kick an scrabble at the dirt an the other deer start to look over. Robert grunts with the effort but the bullet’s just too deep.
   “We gotta let her go! We’re hurtin her, Robert!”
   “No! I’ve almost got it!” I look at my brother’s face. It’s so scrunched up with the effort of reachin the bullet that he’s not even noticed the pain she’s in.
   “Yer just gonna push it in further!” I shout, just before the fawn kicks me square in the stomach.
   “Laurie!” Robert runs over to me an she scrambles away, scared as hell.
   “Let's take a minute, let you get your breath back.” Robert says, puttin down the tweezers.
   “I wonder if we can see town from here,” I say, hopeful. I look down but tonight the city lights glow hazy in the gloom, like lamplight through a bathroom window. We sit there, lookin at this sleepy night time world.
   “How long do deer live, Robert?”
   “It depends. Captive ones fer nearly twenty years, but wild ones only bout ten cos of hunters, diseases an things.”
   “What bout that one? Was she captive or wild?”
   “I dunno, maybe a bit of both. She’s more vulnerable to predators now though,” Robert takes a swig of water. “Her only defence is her ability to run an that’s gone. She’ll carry that limp ferever.”

   When we reach home it’s near four in the mornin. I go to put my bike back when I notice Father’s truck is parked outside, but no light comes from the shack. I go to creep in but Robert stops me. I turn to him an he’s grinnin ear to ear, lookin like a goblin in the torchlight.
   “Laurie, hang on a second! I have to show you somethin!” he says, rushin inside. Two minutes later he’s back, holdin some ole shoebox an Father’s keys. He runs to the truck an tips the box out onto the bonnet, contents spillin everywhere as Robert rifles through the pile.
   “Is that Mama’s necklace?” I say, as I notice the gleamin gold near Mother Theresa’s rosary an the locket.
   “Oh, yeah it is,” Robert says, but he don’t really notice. He holds up the car keys an clutches a wedge of postcards.
   “Go round to the driver’s seat,” he says excitedly. I climb in as he lays the cards out onto the dashboard carefully.
   “What’s goin on, Robert?”
   “You remember that postcard earlier?” he asks me. I nod. “Well it was from Tom. They all are. He knows how miserable we are here an when he left he promised he’d write.”
   “But he hasn’t written you nothin but those stupid pictures of trees!” I yell, suddenly angry that he could trust someone so.
   “They’re not trees Laurie, it’s our escape route " an now’s our chance. Look.” Robert switches the cab light on. “You see the writin on the main trunk in each picture?”
   “Uh-huh.”
   “Well it’s a kinda code which shows us the way to Tom’s house. We can stay there till we get ourselves set up. Read one.”
I pick one up and stare at the tiny letters goin up the tree. “…Windrush Avenue,” I read aloud.
   “I told him to write it like that in case Father sees one " if he just got one he’d be mad as hell but he wouldn’ know it was anythin more than a picture of some trees. But lookit this…” Robert picks some sticky tack from his pocket an sticks one postcard to the windscreen. Then another above it, an another above that one, till almost half the windscreen is covered.
   “Wow,” I breathe. Lookin at em all together they make one giant map, the tree in the fronta every picture leadin to the one above. It goes straight fer a while before the fifth postcard shows a tree with a thick branch on its right with scribbled letters on, that could be a road turnin to take, before a new row of cards starts below.
   “Today’s was the last one we needed,” Robert says. “An now’s our best chance to leave " Father’s gonna be out like a light till mornin. We have to take it.”
   I dunno what to say.
   “Laurie, it’s our best chance. It’s our only chance.” I look at his face, eager an hopeful. Maybe we can do it, maybe we can get away. I nod. He smiles. “Okay, I’m gonna get this heap of junk started. Can you run upstairs an pack some things fer us? I just need a few clothes, nothin else.”
   “Alright, sure.” I clamber outta the truck an head back to the shack. I’m bout to turn the light on when I think better of it an tip-toe past Father’s bedroom to mine. As I open my clothes drawers I hear his snores comin from the darkness and the sound of Robert tryin to get the engine goin.
   VRRRRRRR- VRRRRRRR " VRRRRRRR
   I cringe at the sound, waitin fer Father to come steamin outside. But nothin happens.
   I slide open the next drawer. It whirs open way too loud before juttin into my foot " I bite my lip so's not to cry out. Takin out some jumpers an trousers I move on to the next one.
   VRRRRRRR- VRRRRRRR- VRRRRRRR
   I pause, holdin my breath. It sounds like someone revvin a chainsaw in the middle of the desert. Still nothin. I grab Barbie from my bed an sneak into the livin room, where Robert sleeps. Openin the sideboard, I stuff his clothes into the bag an make to leave, but my torchlight rests on a smilin picture of Mama an Father when they got married. I gotta have a closer look. Her brown eyes shine back at me, glowin. I trace the shape of her smile with my fingertips. But the photo’s really ole - yellowed an faded now, giving her a jaded look as if her picture got as sick as she did.
   VRRRRRRR- VRRRRRRR- VRRRRRRR
   This time I hear the unmistakeable tinklin of broken glass. Father’s awake.
   His footsteps make the floor shake as he throws himself outside but I fumble through the darkness to follow, goin so fast I catch myself on the coffee table an trip over. When I make it outside, Robert’s noticed him far too late.
   “No!” I scream, still luggin the bag foolishly behind me, its contents streamin out like the white smoke from a jet plane. I reach the truck an spot Father in Lake Bottomless, painted black in the truck’s headlights, standin over Robert.
   “Father, don’t,” I plead. He turns round to me, almost sobbin with anger.
   “You think you can… You think you can run out on me?” says Father, unfocused eyes roamin bout like he’s addressin a huge crowd. Robert’s groanin an shiverin, doubled up in the lake.
   “You think you can run away to a new life an leave me to rot here on my own?” Father shouts. I flinch at his words.
   “No, no, that’s not it at all…” I say. Robert grabs at Father’s trousers, tryin to pull himself up, but Father kicks him back into the water.
   “Yer nothin better than a drowned rat!” he screams manically at my brother, pullin him up an plungin him back into the water like he’s baptisin him. I scream an start runnin over, tears streamin down my face. I dunno what to do. I dunno what to do. Robert’s arms thrash in the water. I get an idea an run back to the truck, sweepin the treasures from the bonnet back into the shoebox. Then I run back into the lake, almost fallin over in the weight of the water. Father’s breathin heavy over Robert, who’s feebly tryin to get up. I come up behind Father and smash the box down on his head. He lets go of Robert, shocked, as the treasures an Mama’s necklace vanish into the dark deeps. Father turns to face me, blood stainin his shirt as it leaks down from his head. I back away but he follows me steady an I stumble on the edge of the lake, fallin hard onto my elbows. I grunt with the pain.
   “An you,” Father shouts. “You! Yer a little w***e!” He’s spittin with anger, but it’s more focused now, his eyes not rovin like before. Instead they stare at me hard as he crouches down over me. I try to kick him away an land one good hit on his chest before he grabs my jeans. He starts to yank them down an, oh Jesus, I feel my belt give.
   “No!” I scream again. “Stop it!” I kick with all my might but it ain't no use. They slide down further an I feel the cold lap of water against my thighs. Father starts to undo his belt but his eyes suddenly widen in pain an he lets out a gasp. Robert wades forward through the water doubled up, walkin drunker than Father, an holds out the gleamin few inches of a blade " the tip of Excalibur we found. He follows Father, who’s staggered to the truck, holdin his side. But as Robert reaches him, Father suddenly jumps inside the truck cab, knockin Robert over with the door. Rippin down the postcards from the windscreen, he staggers back outside with em.
   “Please don’t!” My brother begs, lookin defeated as he follows Father to the lake’s edge like a lost boy. But Father, still holdin his side, throws the postcards up into the air. Fer a second they're all bunched up together, before they fan out and land cross the water. Robert cries out an rushes in, splashin round tryin to gather em up as Father smirks, lookin on. I run in to help him.
   “Stop it!” Father yells an punches me in the cheek, sendin me down in a daze, darkness closin in on me.

   My eyes blink open an I see Father approachin Robert, who’s still tryin to save the cards. Salty tears blur my vision, as if I’m watchin the scene play out in one of those mirrors at the fairgrounds Mama used to take us to. He surprises Robert, putting his arm behind his back an scatterin the few postcards he’s managed to collect from his hand. Robert looks round slowly, lookin thoughtful " like he’s finally figured out the answer to a difficult question that's been buggin him.
   “In the end, Robert, yer no better than the trash you dig up from this lake,” Father says, voice shaky with rage. He forces Robert face first slowly into the water an grunts as my brother’s arms an legs start to thrash about. I scream an scream with a lost voice as I watch the life slowly drain from my brother’s body.

 

* * *

   Robert floats in the water surrounded by his postcards. Glitterin city lights an tall buildins gaze up at him from the lake. People outside old brown buildins smile an wave, or watch him with interest through strange eyeglasses, wearin black suits an bow ties an bright, pretty dresses. 

   ‘Wish you were here,’ they seem to say.

  

   They look on, but I can’t.

 

* * *

 

   The cold tap drips onto my big toe as I lay in the bath, it's a strange feelin. Barbie floats beside me. We were both washin our hair. She’s turnin blonde but I’ve decided to stick to brown. Suits me better. I’m gonna visit Robert later, tell him what I’ve been up to of late. Sometimes I think I see him when Lake Bottomless starts risin up, his grinnin face glowin as he brings another treasure up from the deep. Each time, my heart warms up as the blood starts to rush back into it and fer a second I manage to trick it into workin again. But I know I’m just kiddin myself.

   I draw a deep breath an dive below the surface of the bathwater, but there’s no treasures down here. Just my legs an feet an the drip, drip, drip of the cold tap. I pull out the plug with my toes an watch the shampoo start to swirl round the plughole. Maybe I’ll be sucked down the drain with it an me an Barbie’ll find ourselves with all those pretty people in town. Robert will be there too, dressed in a smart suit, smilin as he sees us. But the water don't take me where it’s goin.

   I lay wet and cold in the tub, alone. Left behind like Barbie in the lake, to carry on limpin my way through life, survivin the best I can.

Reviews

[Nick.B]

Interesting story you managed to write here, love the description and like your style, the storyline seems fresh and unique...anyway great job, with an interesting ending " Left behind like Barbie in the lake, to carry on limpin my way through life, survivin the best I can. "

[Ben Martin]

Really like this mate, great story, very well written and bloody sad. The rewrite really works for me as well, definitely adds something. I think once or twice some slightly too sophisticated language slips in, such as 'unfathomable', but that's just me nit-picking and looking for constructive criticism. Anyway, yea, it's brilliant.