Nymph

Nymph

  By

  Brent E. Meranda

  * * * * *

  Copyright © 2013 by Brent E. Meranda

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  * * * * *

  We stumbled along the creek bed, our bare feet smacking clay as we hopped tree roots and dodged rocks beside the rippling water. Jimmy's little brother, Carl, tried to keep up, but I could hear him wheezing like a little pig as he fell further behind. I hoped he'd give up and go home; he smelled like sweat and root beer and had the repulsive habit of picking his nose and flicking boogers onto anything, or anyone, handy. I was a tomboy, but I was still a girl--something Jimmy and Carl had apparently forgotten--and I never learned to tolerate boogers very well.

  Jimmy halted, and I took the chance to catch my breath. The sudden stop caused pain to shoot through my side, and I bent at the waist, sucking air and hoping Jimmy didn't notice how much of a girl I was being.

  When I stood, I saw Jimmy standing silently with his fist clenched in the air like GI Joe commanding a platoon. I had to laugh. We were hunting a freak, not a sniper.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He pointed at the base of an old birch tree. I followed his gesture and saw something move inside a hole in the side of the bank. I screamed, then bit my fist. Jimmy didn’t react.

  “Guys, wait up!” Carl tripped and fell between us, sending dry leaves scattering.

  “Shut up, dog face,” Jimmy said.

  I couldn't have said it better.

  Carl stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. “Do you think it's her?”

  “No way,” I whispered. “The hole’s too small.”

  “She’s a nymph,” Jimmy said. “She can shape shift.”

  “Cannot,” Carl insisted.

  “Shut up!” Jimmy and I said together. We smiled. Hating Carl was our sacred bond.

  Whatever was in that hole, I was sure it wasn’t a nymph. I liked Jimmy, but he took his fantasies too far. He’d been obsessed with nymphs ever since one escaped from a travelling carnival the previous summer. The summer before that, it was a wolf boy that escaped. The whole thing sounded like a scam to me, hype to get people to the show. But when farmers started finding mangled sheep in their fields, people got concerned.

  The police didn’t get involved until Laurence Fischer hung himself because of some dumbass cheerleader. Jimmy didn’t buy the official story, though. It happened by the creek, so, naturally, a nymph had murdered the boy. That’s because nymphs lived near water, at least in Jimmy’s world. I knew the truth, or course. Laurence was a dweeb, and there never was a nymph. Just a bunch of carnies who loved to tell stories and a pack of coyotes that liked to snack on lamb chops.

  Jimmy motioned toward the left of the hole, and I nodded.

  My stomach cramped as soon as I started walking, and I bit my lip. Jimmy crept along, oblivious to my pain.

  As we drew near, we heard grunting.

  We saw nothing in the opening, but heard rustling. The hole looked bigger up close and I was no longer convinced it was too small to hold a monster. Jimmy picked up a stick and poked inside. The rustling stopped and I was overwhelmed by the musty scent of rotten leaves mixed with the sweetness of lilacs. I coughed.

  “Take a peek,” Jimmy said.

  “Cat got your balls?” I asked.

  Carl snickered.

  Jimmy and I stared each other down. Finally he held out his fist. I did the same. Then his rock crushed my scissors twice in a row. And, just like that, I’d agreed to stick my head in a musty critter hole. My heart skipped.

  I didn’t believe in nymphs, but there were plenty of things I did believe in, like spiders. I also believed in rats and squirrels, snakes and badgers, and even snapping turtles. Whatever was in that hole was about to bite me on the nose, and I wasn’t sure if it would give it back.

  I hated Jimmy more than ever, but, when I looked at him, standing there looking so serious and adorable, I knew I couldn’t let him down.

  I covered my nose and leaned toward the hole, peering into the dark opening. Nothing moved, so I stepped closer and started to get down on one knee when something squealed and rushed toward me. I stood up and screamed. As I did, the beast made for the gap inside my legs, shoving its nose between my knees. It grunted as it pushed through and I flipped over its back landing face down in the muck.

  Carl laughed his little head off while Jimmy shouted his approval. “Awesome!” Then, “You okay?”

  “Stupendous,” I said, rolling onto my back. I looked up just in time to see the pig that had flattened me scamper up the bank; undoubtedly headed back home to someone’s farm. I hoped a nymph would eat him.

  “You’re hurt!” Jimmy said.

  I wiped my face and shook my head. “I’m fine.”

  Then I let my gaze wander into the tree branches and noticed a rope that had been tied to a limb and then cut off to about three feet in length. As the frayed end swayed in the breeze, I thought of Laurence and a chill ran through me. Is this where it happened?

  Jimmy interrupted. “Sam, listen to me.”

  Movement caught my eye, and I looked to the right. There, I saw a young woman sitting on a branch, swinging her legs and laughing. She began singing a lullaby, and the words echoed through my mind:

  * * *

  Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,

  Go to sleepy little baby.

  When you wake, you shall have,

  All the pretty little horses.

  Way down yonder, down in the meadow,

  There's a poor wee little lamby.

  The birds and the butterflies peck out its eyes,

  The poor wee thing cried for her mammy.

  * * *

  She stopped and looked at me, and I recognized my own face. She had a pig’s nose and pointy ears, but, otherwise, she was me. I rubbed my eyes, and when I opened them again she was still there, swinging her legs and laughing. Only this time, blood dripped from the corners of her mouth.

  “Sam!” Jimmy said. “You’re bleeding.”

  I looked at him, and then followed his gaze toward my leg. A trail of blood trickled out from under my shorts, and I snapped back to reality. Then, for the third time that day, I screamed like a girl. I stood and ran, ignoring Jimmy's shouts and pretending everything would be the same between us if I could just get away.

  * * *

  Things weren’t the same, of course. It wasn’t Jimmy’s fault. I just couldn’t pretend to tolerate boogers or like creek beds any longer. But those things remained important to Jimmy right up to the moment he got his draft notice, five years later. That’s when he put away childish things to become a man. Unfortunately, those childish things included me.

  I ran away that night, hoping he’d follow.

  I wasn’t sure where I was going, but the full moon lit up the night and drew me onward. I cast off my shoes and jogged barefoot over the damp grass until I reached the dirt path that led down to the creek. I paused, then leapt forward, breaking into a run despite the rocks that littered the path and assaulted the soft soles of my feet.

  I hadn’t run barefoot since that day five years earlier. That was also the last time I’d seen the nymph. Yet when I smelled lilacs and heard rippling water, I realized where I was going and who I was seeking.

  Shadows darted along the creek bed. I decided to run on top of the bank, away from the water and, hopefully, the nightlife.

  When I saw the big white tree, I slowed to a walk and began searching its branches. The fragment of rope still hung from an upper limb and still swayed in the breeze. I paused to catch my breath. A cool breeze sent shiv
ers up my spine, and a gnat buzzed my nose. In the distance, a dog barked.

  “Hello?”

  No one answered and I began to feel silly. What did I expect? Did I really think a mythical creature would appear and solve my problems? I wasn’t a kid anymore. I needed to grow up.

  When I looked toward the hole in the bank, I saw only shadows. Then I spied wooden rungs that had been nailed to the side of the tree, and I began to climb. With my bare feet and loose fitting dress, it wasn’t hard. I scrambled out onto the same branch on which I’d seen the nymph and I dangled my feet as she had done.

  Below, shadows covered the terrain while frogs and crickets sang to me. In the distance, a dog began to howl. I closed my eyes and inhaled the cool night air. Then, for a moment, I thought I heard the humming of a familiar lullaby. It seemed silly, and I convinced myself it was the wind.

  “Samantha!”

  My eyes opened and my heart leapt. “Over here!” I cried, waving into the night.

  There was a pause, then rapid footsteps. Down below, a figure moved. I sat upright and waited for Jim to see me.

  “Sam? Is that you?”

  When I recognized the voice, my heart sank. “Go away, Carl.”

  “Jim said you ran off.”

  “What’s he care?”

  Carl sighed. Then he bobbed his head back and forth, no doubt trying to see me better in the dark. “How’d you get up there?”

  I broke off a twig and flung it at him.

  It fell at his feet as he stood motionless. “Look. Jim loves you. More than anything.”

  “Don’t be stupid. He loves his country. He loves adventure. Hell, he may even love his mother. Me, he tolerates.”

  “You’re as dumb as he is.” Carl sighed. “You coming down?”

  “No. I’m going to marry a squirrel. Then I’ll have squirrel babies and when I’m old and grey, they’ll gather around and bring me nuts as I tell my grand-squirrels stories of my childhood. And when I die, they’ll say squirrel prayers over my body and bury me in a tree hole. But they will never run off and leave me to fight some stupid war.”

  “You’re weird, Sam.”

  “I know, Carl.”

  He stayed a minute longer and then sulked away. As I watched him fade into the night, a cold wind blew and I closed my eyes and shivered. When I opened them, I saw her: a barefooted maiden crawling up the bank beneath me. She wore a loose cotton dress like my own. Her skin was pale, almost ghostly, and her hair was black, like night. She stopped and glanced up at me, a wicked smile on her face and a knife in her hand. It was her. “Pig Nose” herself. I tried to scream, but the stench of lilacs filled my lungs, and nothing came out of my mouth.

  Then that bitch turned and started running down the path toward Carl. Jimmy’s Carl. My Carl. Booger flicking, root beer drinking Carl. No. She couldn’t have him.

  I looked down and saw grass. Grass was soft. I could do this. I took a breath and jumped. When I hit the bank, I ducked and rolled, popping back onto my feet and running almost as soon as I touched the ground. After a few seconds of chasing my imagination, I stopped and listened, hearing only croaking and chirping. But I could breathe again.

  “Carl?”

  No response.

  “Carl!” I shouted.

  An owl hooted, followed by the sickening yelp of a dog.

  * * *

  I noticed a change in Carl after that night. He wasn’t quite as nerdy or disgusting as before, and I didn’t mind his hanging around quite as much. We even rode together down to the train station to see Jimmy off. Jimmy wanted nothing to do with us or Carl’s used Pontiac. Instead, we followed as he drove his dad’s old truck with his father riding shotgun and a load of firewood stacked in the back. I’m sure if his mommy had been alive, she’d have been sitting between them clinging to her baby’s arm. As it was, Jimmy and his dad sat as far apart as they could. Typical.

  Driving through town, I noticed lost dog posters on every corner. A Shih Tzu named “Tips” had run off and someone wanted him back enough to offer a hundred dollar reward. It was a lot of money, but I didn’t think they’d ever have to pay out.

  I always wondered what Jimmy and his dad said to each other during that ride. I picture them sitting quietly, like idiots, afraid to say what they felt until it was too late and their ride came to an end. I’ll never know what happened in that truck. All I know is that they both seemed a lot older when they got out, and Jimmy’s dad had wet eyes.

  Jimmy tried to shake my hand before he boarded, but I rushed past his outstretched arm and hugged him. He didn’t hug back. Instead, he pushed me away and said, “Take care, Sam.”

  I told him to drop dead. It was an odd thing to tell someone going off to war, but I refused to cry and anger seemed to be the only other option.

  We all watched as Jim stepped onto the train, walked down the aisle, and took a seat. As he did, I sidled up to Carl and reached for him. He responded by taking my hand in his. Then, when Jim looked our direction, I kissed his brother on the cheek.

  I couldn’t tell if Jim reacted or not because, by the time I looked, he was chatting with the person sitting next to him—a young woman with black hair and a pasty white complexion.

  * * *

  I waited a month before writing. Then, I couldn’t stand it any longer and I sent a letter to Jim’s Marine base. I followed that with another one the following week, and then another. He never wrote back, and I only found out he’d shipped off for Korea when Carl mentioned it at the movies one night.

  I stopped sending letters, but I didn’t stop writing them. They piled up in my dresser drawer as I told Jim everything I was feeling. I even started writing about my growing relationship with Carl. Testosterone can do wonders for a boy. His jaw and shoulders squared off a bit, he became more confident, and I found myself staring at his butt more than I care to admit. He wasn’t bad, for a high school kid. We’d just agreed to go to prom together when Jim’s letter arrived.

  As soon as I saw the return address, I rushed to my room and held the envelope to my chest. Then I kissed it and tore it open.

  * * *

  Sam,

  I’m coming home. Of course, you know that. I mean I think you know. Don’t you? God, I’m not making any sense. Look, I’ll explain when I get there. Tell Pop I love him. I should be home by the 15th.

  Yours Forever,

  James

  P.S. Stay away from the creek. He wants you.

  * * *

  What the hell? Who wants me?

  Typical Jimmy, talking in riddles and taking himself so seriously. I was tired of his games. Why couldn’t he just be straight with me?

  Maybe he’d gone crazy and they were discharging him. That made sense. You didn’t just come home from Korea without a reason. Crazy was a reason.

  But crazy or not, where’d he get off signing his letter “Yours Forever?”

  I was furious.

  Jimmy wasn’t home by the fifteenth. By the twentieth, I began to worry. Was he messing with my head? Did he know I’d been dating Carl? Maybe the little pig squealed to get back at his big brother and Jimmy was getting back at me? I’d kill Carl if he said anything. He knew how much Jimmy meant to me.

  By the twenty first, I’d confronted Carl and he’d denied saying a word to his brother. I stopped speaking to him anyway.

  Then, on the thirtieth, Jimmy’s dad got official word. Jimmy was coming home, but not how I’d expected. He’d been killed a month earlier saving his platoon. I was too stunned to think. Stunned and angry.

  I went to see Carl, but he’d locked himself in his room. He no longer wanted to see me. I tried to talk to him the next day, and the day after that, but he kept turning me away. His dad wasn’t much better. The old man had taken to raising a flag every morning on the front lawn and then saluting it. Whenever I mentioned Jimmy, he changed the subject or simply went silent.

  It wasn’t until Jimmy’s funeral that I got the chance to confront Carl. Services w
ere held on prom night, so few of Carl’s high school buddies showed up. He was standing alone by the closed coffin when I approached. He looked handsome in his suit; though I know he didn’t care.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He glanced at me and forced a smile. “Hey.” He fidgeted and rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen… I’m sorry I haven’t...”

  I nodded. “I know.” Then I put my hand behind his neck and pulled him close. We touched temples, and he broke down.

  We held each other for several minutes before I noticed a Marine standing nearby. When I looked at him, he seemed shocked.

  “Do I know you?” I asked.

  “We need to talk.”

  I looked at Carl, and he nodded. Then I followed the Marine to a corner of the room, where he grabbed my elbow and asked, “What the hell happened out there?”

  “Out where?”

  “The river, damn it.”

  I didn’t like his tone so I shrugged and threw off his grip. “Back off.”

  He stood upright and raised his eyebrows.

  “I don’t know you,” I explained.

  He examined my face, and then my hair. “Sorry. My mistake.”

  He turned to leave, and this time I grabbed his arm. “Wait. What’s this about?”

  His face turned red, and he inhaled rapidly. “Nothing. I mean, it’s just Jim carried your picture everywhere. You know. It’s like you were in Korea with us.”

  “You were with Jim in Korea?”

  “Yeah. Hell of a guy.”

  I smiled. My Jim. He was a hell of a guy. “I wish I had been there.”

  “I’ve got to go,” the Marine said.

  I stepped in front of him, preventing his retreat. “What is it?”

  He looked around, and then gulped. “I saw you there. I swear it.”

  I stepped closer, forcing him against the wall. “I haven’t been out of this town in ten years. What are you talking about?”

  He glanced around the room, and then lowered his voice. “At first, I thought he was nuts. You know, going a little loony from the stress. He looked at your picture every morning and every night. But that wasn’t the strange part. Guys do that all the time. What was strange was the way he talked to you. At night, in his bunk or in a foxhole. Wherever he was, we’d hear him having a regular conversation with your picture. Then we started hearing two voices. His and a woman’s. I thought he was faking your voice, and I nearly reported him to the C.O. Then, about a week before he died, I went over to his tent to confront him. He was embracing a woman, and they were giggling.”