Hazy fog clouds Maria’s vision as she lies bobbing in the water. She turns her eyes to her right. An endless expanse of dark murky water stretches out before her, disappearing into a thick fog. She turns her eyes to the left and sees the same. She appears to be floating on her back in the middle of a body of water. A lake perhaps? A faint voice in her head tells her she should be worried about this, but the thought finds little purchase in her flickering consciousness and slips away as soon as it arrives.
Maria continues to float there in the wet darkness, her mind going in and out of focus. The details of her situation blur, reappear, and then blur again, changing in subtle waves as she drifts through the fog. Once, when her focus returns, she sees her two daughters drifting there beside her, naked and looking so very cold. Unconscious nothing takes her again, and when she returns they are gone like they were never there.
This goes on for what feels like days, yet also minutes. Uneasy shivers have started making their presence known upon the return of consciousness. The water feels cold against her skin, and the eerie fog forms an impenetrable box around her, making her feel isolated and vulnerable. Maria looks around, her mind truly alert for the first time. Where are her children? She wants to shout their names, but her body doesn’t respond. Henrietta! June! They are nowhere to be found, but they were right there, weren’t they?
A vibration runs through the cold water, making rings form and splash against Maria’s head. She can feel it, a strange presence moving just outside of her sight. Panic grips her as she feels the malevolent gaze of the unknown being circle where she bobs helplessly in the water. It’s out there, watching her, just beyond the fog.
Maria strains to move her body, begs her muscles to stretch, open, do something. For all her begging, she continues to lay there, only the turning of her eyes allowing her to look helplessly out into the fog as whatever lurks there waits to strike.
The water, previously boiling with movement, grows still again. The presence, so keen in Maria’s mind, disappears. Mind reeling in anticipation, she stills her panicked breaths and waits for the inevitable conclusion. She imagines teeth clamping around her head, claws reaching out and ripping into her flesh. Anytime now something horrible is coming out of the mist to kill her.
Moments pass in silence, Maria readying herself for the worst. Then it begins.
Slowly, millimeters at a time, the water begins to rise. Maria can feel it as it happens. No, that’s not right, the water isn’t rising, she is sinking. Trapped on her back, she can feel it creeping up her skin, covering her neck, working its way towards her ears. Panic returns in full, her efforts redoubling to force a response from her paralyzed muscles. She strains, but her body’s like a corpse. Soon, she knows, that’s what she’ll be.
The slow descent continues, the water entering her ears, then covers them entirely. Now there’s only her face left before she’s completely submerged. Before the water runs into her eyes, Maria’s flickering gaze looks upon a pair of eyes peering at her through the mist. Orbs of absolute darkness meet her desperation with… mirth? It enjoys seeing me like this, are Maria's last thoughts before the water fills her eye, enters her nostrils and all she can feel is pressing coldness.
Maria awakens, throwing her arms out while heaving for breath, her bedsheets covered in sweat and clinging to her skin. She then sits there, in her bed, letting reality wash over her as her racing pulse slowly returns to normal. Sanity returning, she looks around the dimly lit room. She feels cold, wet, and more tired than when she went to sleep. Hoisting herself out of bed, she figures the moist rags are the most likely culprit for the bone-deep shivers making her arms run with goosebumps. Letting out a dissatisfied yawn and a stretch, she leans over and picks up yesterday's work clothes. She’ll get a fresh set after she’s done with her morning routine, followed by a proper scrubbing.
Feeling a sudden urge to check on her girls, Maria opens the door and leaves her room. Although she knows they must be fine, her dream left her with a sense of uncertainty she can’t quite shake.
She walks down the hallway to the room where Henrietta and June are sleeping and opens the door. Peering in she sees her children still slumbering in their beds. Feeling a little foolish for worrying in the first place, she stands there in the doorway just looking at their peaceful sleep. Or, perhaps not so peaceful after all? June lets out a faint squawk and stretches her hands out towards the ceiling. Looking at Henrietta she also seems in motion as she lays in her bed, clearly asleep, shivering in a fetal position.
Moving into the room, Maria lays a hand on June’s chin, “It’s okay sweety, Ma’s here.”
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June’s eyes flutter open and her arms come down to rest at her sides. Still half asleep she looks towards her mother like she can’t quite believe she’s there. Not saying a word, June lays her hand on top of the hand Maria is gently stroking her hair with.
“It’s okay,” Maria repeats, comforting her youngest daughter, “you’re awake now, nothing’s going to hurt you.”
Moving to check on Henrietta, Maria leans over her bed to soothe her awake, only to find her eyes already open. Henrietta looks up at her mother with haunted eyes, streaks of tears flowing down her chin. She opens her mouth to call out, but all that escapes is a sob as she reaches for her mother. Maria takes her in an embrace and spends the next couple of minutes consoling, soothing, and comforting her children.
Fifteen minutes later, Maria’s making breakfast. They are all tired, but in a farmer's life, there’s little time for slacking. There are things to be done, cows that need milking, and errands to run.
The night's horrors grow more distant and hazy, as dreams tend to do, and Maria’s glad to see Henrietta and June have regained most of their spirit.
“Ma, can we go visit Teddy today?” June asks through a mouthful of porridge.
“Maybe after your chores,” Maria says, “we shouldn’t bother the Thompsons this early, and you know Theodore needs his sleep.”
June looks sullen for a moment, but nods in understanding. “Yeah, I know, but I can't wait to play with him.”
Maria smiles to herself and suppresses a yawn. Her girls have asked to visit the Thompsons almost daily since Theodore was born the previous autumn. The Thompsons were family friends and had been there to support them back when her husband passed away. Gunnhilda was more than happy to let the two girls play with her son for a bit. “It lets me take a breather,” she would say and chuckle when Maria asked if they were a bother.
Finishing off her porridge and downing her glass of water Maria got up from her chair, readying herself for a day’s work. Before leaving she looks over at Henrietta, who’s halfway done eating an apple. “Did the Thompsons actually get their delivery yesterday?” she asks while looking at her oldest.
“Ehm…” Henrietta begins uncertainly, “After I saw the telephone pole I kind of… forgot.” She looks down at her feet, but when meeting her mother's eyes again is relieved to see she’s not mad at her.
“Don’t worry about it, I'm sure they’ll understand,” Maria says with a nod to her daughter. “Really, I should have said something when Gunhilda was helping us clear the forest. No matter, she’ll get her milk today. After you two are done with your chores, bring her milk pail when you’re running over to visit them.”
After finishing instructing her girls, Maria pulls on her coat and kisses the two on their foreheads. Heading out the door she immediately feels the cold morning wind tussle her hair, the moist breeze making her long for the warm kitchen. She fetches a wheelbarrow from their shed and wheels it down towards the barn. Making a short stop to fiddle with her keys, she looks down at the barn and notices the hatch leading into the loft swaying in the wind.
Swearing under her breath, Maria walks down the rest of the short incline. She’s certain she closed it and it’s been weeks since they needed to hoist something into that loft. The darn thing must have come open during the storm and she just hadn’t noticed until now. The cows better not have gotten too cold, the last thing they need is cattle falling sick.
The old lock rattles then gives, and Maria walks inside. Closing the door behind her she can’t help but notice an eerie silence permeating the barn. Where she would normally be met with loud mooing and the noise of shuffling cows awaiting their breakfast, there’s stillness so absolute she can hear her own heartbeat. Putting her wheelbarrow aside, the rattle ringing throughout the space, she slowly moves from the foyer and into the aisle where her livestock are kept.
The creeping sensation of uncertainty gropes at the edges of her mind, images of water rising to cover her face returning in force. With a huff Maria masters herself. This is no dream, she tells herself, but this is her barn!
Peaking through the aisle there’s nothing out of the ordinary. That is, except she can see no cows poking their heads out of their stalls. Growing concerned, she moves inside and looks into the first stall. There, on the floor, lays a cow. It looks alive, and otherwise unharmed, its eyes are open and staring at her when it notices her walk over. The cow is taking in rapid, shallow breaths like its pulse is racing. Upon seeing a familiar face the cow visibly calms, but makes no move to get up or call out.
Moving from stall to stall Maria discovers the same scene again and again. Then a new sensation assaults her senses. Getting further into the aisle what started as a faint scent, overpowered by the natural odors of the barn, begins to stand out the further into the room she gets.
Arriving at the final stall, Maria is overwhelmed by a putrid stench. Covering her mouth and nose with a rag from her pocket, she looks over the edge of the stall. Clutching one hand over the rag and the other on her stomach, she bends over and heaves in revulsion. The stall is drenched in red, innards splatter the floorboards and scattered bits of cow hang loosely from the sides. Struggling to keep her breakfast down while shuffling back outside, one nagging thought presses its way to the forefront of her mind. Despite all the blood and gore, there were mostly just bits of scattered viscera left of the 900-pound bovine. Where did the rest of her cow go?