The Lady In The Lake

“There’s a lady in that lake” my granddad would say each summer when we walked lakeside, when all the trees were as emeralds and the midday sun glistened on its surface. “If you listen carefully, you might hear her song”. I would stand mystified as Granddad; snow haired and bearded stared deeply into the silvery depths. After some time in the silence, I would finally build up the courage to break his trance. Tugging at his sleeve, I would ask in a hushed voice “how did she get there?” waiting expectantly for an answer. It never came. Granddad would pause, wrinkle his brow as if the memories were too painful, and tell me that is was too sad a tale for a young boy, and point out birds nests or fox tracks to try and occupy my childish mind.
It never did. The lady was forever in my thoughts.
When our walk had finished, we would return to the tiny, ram-shackled miner’s cottage where I would ask mother, a large, ruddy faced woman if she knew who the lady was. If she knew how Granddads story ended.
There was a pause. There would always be a pause before she sighed deeply, and would tell me to ignore such stories, that they were nothing but stories and then she would say no more.
Later, when I was tucked up in bed, she would scold him, telling him that he was leading me astray, putting frightening ideas into my head that were simply not suitable for young boys. He would smile faintly, lost in the flickering of the fire.
But I was never frightened. Often, I would see her in my dreams. Sometimes she was as green as the algae that collected on the lakes floor, flowing weeds replaced her hair and her eyes pierced blue. Other times she was as pale as a new moon and her gossamer hair fell delicately over her face. She was always beautiful, and always smiling, though tears fell down her face. Sometimes, when I lay completely still, letting the darkness wash over me, I could almost hear her song, faintly gliding from the distance.
This would please me greatly, and I would tell granddad. He would smile, sitting in his worn armchair with two glistening eyes, and would ruffle my hair and tell me to go and play. But she still wouldn’t leave my mind.
Autumn. The leaves fell from the trees in a kaleidoscope of colour and crunched with each step. It was a fine, crisp morning when Granddad put on his trilby hat and coat, beckoning me with a smile to follow him.
We walked briskly through the surrounding woodland, talked of Fairies and gold clad elves, goblins and strange Halflings. We climbed over the hill that had been put there by giants (or so I had been told) and finally, we reached the lake. At the lake, we walked slower, as the stagnant sun shone defiantly, warming our faces.
We paused at the lakes edge, as Granddad had seized up. He stood perfectly still, a statue stuck in time, his grey eyes scanning the depths.
“There’s a lady in that lake my boy” he said, with some conviction, gazing at the slow ebb and flow. “and once, once she had a love” he said with a slight smile.
”She and he had a love that was true, but when he went away to the wars… It broke her, the parting. So, on one autumn day, she decided to walk down to the waters they had loved, and join them…”His powerful voice broke with emotion, and he sat down on the bank, his eyes deep with sorrow.
“What happened to his love Granddad?”
His voice fell to a whisper. “I don’t know my boy…I don’t know.”
He wiped his kind old face and hugged me gently, putting me on his shoulders and began wandering back home. I felt as tall as the trees and my childish laugh mingled with the cacophony of birdsong as we journeyed on.
When we returned home, we never spoke of the lady, and that night, I dreamt of boats on the lake and picnics, heard a woman’s laugh echo around my head, and could almost feel five fingers ruffle my hair…

When I woke, the house felt cold, empty as if a piece of the puzzle was missing. I thought perhaps Granddad had forgotten had forgotten to light the fire, as he often did. I reluctantly crawled out of bed, down the old oak stairs, counting them as I walked. I paused. Rubbed my eyes and listened.
Silence.
Slowly, I opened the door, and was greeted by a whole new world…
Red eyed mother, Tear soaked and weary in a room that felt huge and by the fire sat one, empty chair…
That was when I had realised, he had returned to her…