Mable was 7 years old when she died. Boys at school still tell the tale of how she passed to try and spook me, but I knew better to believe it. The story went like this…

There once was a girl named Mable, and she loved her grandfathers lake. He warned her never to go there alone without him, but one day, while he was gone fishing, she snuck out. She walked along the deck and hung her feet over the edge. She watched the dark water, and saw it bubbling. She heard a strange voice in her head, asking her for help.

“Hello girl, would you be able to help me?” It would ask.

“Who are you?” She questioned.

“I want to be your friend. I know you have a hard time making those these days don’t you sweety?”

All the kids at school made fun of her for her bright red hair and freckled face. But no matter what they said, she always chose not to believe them. She still longed for just one friend in her life…

“Ok, I want to be friends, but how can I help you?”

“All I need is a single freckle, ” It asked.

“But I like my freckles, my papa says they’re kisses from angels.”

“I know honey, but see, even just one freckle would be enough to help me. You want to help me don’t you? You want a friend?”

“…well, I guess one freckle won’t hurt.”

She took her grandfathers pocketknife she always carried, and scraped the edge of her shoulder until a flake of skin fell off. It sunk deep into the murky water, and the ghostly women thanked her.

But everyday when the girl returned, it would request another freckle. And another. And another, until one stormy day she slipped off the edge of the deck, and fell into the water. The thunder created massive waves, and the rain poured down against her. It was as if the whole world were against her in that moment. Poor girl was always to afraid to learn how to swim so she drowned. Folks say she still haunts this very lake to the day, waiting to get revenge on the supernatural woman.

I knew it was all dumb rumers, but I was still a little hesitant to go out to the lake this morning. My father told me to go and fish, and this has always been the best spot. Probably because there are so little people that dare to come out here.

I hung my feet over the edge of the water and casted my fishing rod. I swore I heard a crash of thunder, but the sky was nothing but a murky gray. it must’ve been my imagination, but I kept hearing it. Crash… Crash… Crash… A gust of cold wind peirced my back, and the rocks boardering the other side of the lake seemed to look like people in the foggy sky. No, not people. A young girls face. It was filled with agony and its eyes bore into mine, pleading for help. It took all my might to tear my eyes away. It’s my imagination. Crash. Just imagination. Crash.

I heard footsteps behind me. Definitely not my imagination this time. I spun around to see a small girl standing behind me, fog surrounding her frizzy red hair, and skinny body. My nostrils inhaled her stench and, though her appearance frightened me, it felt impossible to look away.

Her eye sockets were sunken in, her eyeballs big and filled with hate. Her body looked starved, and I could see the outline of her small ribs poking through her ripped t-shirt.

But worst of all was her skin. It was covered in scars of carved out freckles. From head to toe, her skin was blistered and colored an ugly shade of crimson. Her limbs stretched out to mine, trying to grasp my body. Heart racing, I jumped back, not aware of the edge of the dock.

I slipped and fell into the water. I could feel a force pulling me down, down, down. I gasped for air as the ice cold water penetrated my thin jacket, surounding my skin and flooding my senses. The last thing I heard before I went under was the sound of Mable’s pericing cry.

Then I sunk.