Cordelia May believed their new home was perfect! Mother and father had indeed done well; its three stories a rare find in this day and age and each room held a charm that could not replicate itself anywhere else. Every room was adorned with various mouldings, embellished wallpaper and every room had its own unique chandelier.
The property was a turn of the century Gothic structure, the rear of which overlooked a large inland lake. Sitting at the edge of which was a long jetty, it was this which Cordelia loved most about their new home; even her name loosely translated meant daughter of the sea, in effect she admired all bodies of water.
When not inside the home approving the rooms and their complex architecture, Cordelia was almost always found sitting at the very end of the jetty dangling her feet from its edge, the structure was much too high for her feet to come into contact with the water’s surface, yet Cordelia was able to envision on the colder days as her feet dragged elegantly through the vapours that expelled themselves from the otherwise glassy still surface that they were indeed moving backwards and forwards within its depths, sending imaginary ripples off into the farthest reaches of the lake - her lake.
And this is where I will direct your attention towards, The lake and its Pier. Forget all I have mentioned of the house and its grandeur; for the tale I have to regale none of that holds any importance.
Cordelia found during her time here that she was drawn unrequitedly to the pier and the waters that it reached across, like an arm composed of wood and rope, which over time since the property was established had worn and, to some degree, required maintenance. Now I’m sure your intellectual minds will jump straight to the obvious, a young girl on a rickety jetty screams out for reservations we all commonly share, yet once again I must divert your attention from those details, they, like the manor are not of import.
So, call into your minds an image, an image of this lake surrounded by high peaks on every side, except one, the side where the house stands in particular is where I want you to picture. Now imagine it is a cold winter’s eve and all across this expansive lake is thick fog concealing all I have described to you all except that wooden support standing high above that tranquil surface.
And I beg you to imagine sat at the very of this, a young girl, of a tender age dressed in a pale blue dress her blonde hair flowing in the breeze that only seems to surround her, a picture of innocence, dragging her feet to and fro through the fine tendrils of mist immersing them.
It is crucial, at this point, that you understand that Cordelia was by no means simple of mind, oh no, she was truly a very bright and well-educated child and was often known to be lost deep in thought, there was not a single book in the family library she had not read and she could tell you exactly what each one was about. She could even tell you that the word jetty came from the French word Jetée and translates into English as ‘thrown’ in the context of throwing something out. She could not as most however, tell you how the two connect.
Yet being as smart as she was, did not mean she was entirely immune to the occasional lapse in judgement, in fact that’s far from the case, Cordelia had a tendency towards naivety, she would often fall victim to pranks that were played on her by her Cousins, a dim-witted pair with a flair for mischief, I would put this down to the fact to the way she lost herself in her own little world.
Cordelia would sit on that jetty long into the night unaware through the heavy clouds that swallowed her that the day had become night and the light that she could see was that of the moon as it rose unseen upon the sky. She merely sat swaying her legs to and fro as she normally would imagining that they were breaking the surface of the cold water far below where she sat.
On the specific night in question, she received a sudden shock which undulated from the tip of her toe as It brushed past something, something that was much closer than the water, something wet… something that felt like a hand.
Cordelia pulled her feet up toward her, the moment of fear evaporating like the delicate mist around her, curiosity quickly took hold. Instead of running back to the house, where safety and warmth were in abundance Cordelia chose to lower herself onto her belly, sprawling across the rickety wooden structure and wave her hand through the mist below, dispersing it in an attempt to see what lay just out of sight.
As the fine spray broke she gasped unwillingly as a face loomed into view, it took a few moments for it to register that the countenance she saw peering back at her was her own, reflected off of the cold black lake surface, but something was different about the reflection; it was closer than usual, close enough… to touch.
Reaching down towards her own mirrored version, which in turn flailed upwards as if reaching up for the lifeline she was offering, the two Cordelia’s stretched toward one another, desperately trying to make contact yet always seeming just out of reach, that was until her finger broke the surface of the water. It did not feel cold as she had expected it to, instead, it didn’t feel like anything at all.
Cordelia tried to pull her hand away but it would not move the black liquid held onto her tightly refusing to let go, she could feel it moving further away pulling her from off the Jetty from which she hung. Was it pulling her? or was it really rising towards her? Her hand became fully submerged, she dared not scream, this was exactly what her mother had warned her never to do.
Slowly the rising surface consumed her and as she stared back at her own glassy reflection, she knew her face was held in an expression of utmost terror, only the Cordelia in the water was smiling at her, she tried vainly to pull free from whatever had her in its clutches, fighting the instinct to call out to her mother. It was then that the reflection in the water mutated into something unspeakable, the water stopped rising and the creature that had replaced her reflection rose from it, it was only then, during her last known moments, that she screamed.
Cordelia’s mother called for her as she ran, she had heard her daughter scream from the kitchen of their home, fearing that something had happened, she raced down the jetty only to find Cordelia was not there, her heart had lodged itself firmly in her throat as she looked over the jetty’s end, far below her the Lake’s surface held still and tranquil as it always had, always out of reach, there were no signs of disturbance across its sleek dark surface. Surely, if she had fallen Cordelia would have caused ripples that even now would still be manipulating the cold black mirror below, but there was no sign of Cordelia anywhere; it seemed she had vanished.
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