Aleiah had always been a sound sleeper; from the jump, she’d been so good about laying down for bed. Mom and Daddy had always joked about how much better a sleeper she was than me at her age. They’d just read her a story in the warm light of MeMaw’s old lamp; she’d be out before page 6. Warm n’ happy, bathed in love, and thoroughly protected. Don’t get me wrong; they did that for me too when I was her age. Small, innocent, and new. But then I turned eight, and Aleiah was born. I wasn’t a baby no more. 

   I would lay awake, staring at the ceiling and the ever-shifting shadow shapes in the corners of my room. My very own room. Daddy was so proud a me for being such a big girl; he painted it just how I wanted it too. Sky blue with white daisies dotted all around, especially the corners. I thought, in some way, maybe they would bring some light to those scary places. 

 He was a fisherman through and through, but we laughed, and he’d tell me as we took those cheapy little plastic brushes and dotted white wispy petals in the creases of the walls that there wasn't no rule that said you could only ever be one thing. Daddy could be a fisherman, and an artist who painted petals on the walls for his little girl. And so, I could be a big girl with her own room and her own walls, but I could also be terrified of the somethin’ that hid in the dead of night behind the blue and white gingham drapes Mom had sewn.

  And there was a somethin'.

 Mom and Daddy thought they’d tried everything, but the blackout curtains only made the room darker, and the noises even more terrifying- and I wasn’t allowed to be sleeping in nobody else’s room after a while.

  It had started with the scutterin', I would cry an’ tell Daddy I heard noises under the floor. He figured it might’ve been a mouse problem, so we got Callie. Mom said she’d run off with the neighbor cat, so then we got Mort. Mort got hit by a car not long after we got ‘im, and again, we tried with Ruby. We don’t know where Ruby run off to, I don’t know that she did run off anyhow; she really seemed to love us. My parents gave up on cats after all that, but by then, the scutterin' under the floor was nothin’ 'cept a distant memory. My problems were just beginning. But as far as they were concerned, the problem was solved.

 If you’ve ever heard a kid run their stubby nails over textured glass, that's what the next sound was like. Grinding, quick, and sharp, but it still rang out like a big ol’ frog croakin out in the night. I hated it; it scared the bejesus outta me every night when it started. But living out in the boonies like we did, Daddy always just said it _was _frogs. Frogs croakin’ out late at night, well into December. He told me that after being so scared of it for so long, my mind had just made it be. Like I was imagining the whole thing, but Mom heard it too. I think he did and just didn’t care to admit it. But either way, the more you listened to it, it didn’t _sound_ like frogs; it didn’t even sound like _a frog_— least no frog I’ve ever come across. Not after that long. No, nails on glass was the best way to describe that sound. And occasionally a

  tip, tip, tip.

  Like quiet, delicate little fingers tapping on the glass. As if asking to just tip tip tip on through.



  We wasn’t a rich family, so when pageant season was done, we summered out at Pawpaw’s fishin shack. I was about eleven then, and I can still smell all the stinks drowning out the fresh air—Pawpaw’s tobacco, then citronella tiki torches, and of course the stink that wafts up from the water—whatever scum, dead critters, or whatever there may be lurkin. We weren’t supposed to be swimming out by ourselves, and I wasn’t that day. 



  Pawpaw had done his due diligence scaring the hindooey outta us with stories about all the awful creatures out in the swamplands. Gators, monster catfish, water moccasins, copperheads, dragons, Bigfoot, swamp people, and worst of all: witches. There was all kinds of witches all over the swamps. Some of em made their witch huts in enchanted trees that at a moments notice would turn to legs on they house and carry them and their victims far far out and away from the world. Some holed up in the mud with the gators, those kind would lay eggs in the mud, and whatever came across would make it into a baby. That’s where all them swamp monsters come from. Big ol gator people, hog boys, little girls with heads like flies, all sortsa swamp monsters that would do that witches’ bidding- like bringing out bad little kids who swam without a grown up watching for her to play with.



  The worst ones of all though were them stick witches. They built their nests underwater outta sticks they’d sharpened up with they own black teeth. They laid traps all over the swamp lands, ones you couldn’t see from the top of the water. If you swam into them you’d be fulla holes, and the witch would sniff you out while you bled to death. She was the meanest of all, she would hear your cryin and gurgling in the water and she’d sniff you out real quick- but she wouldn’t take you back to her lair right off. She’d sit right behind ya, waitin’ on you to die. And if you ever got the chance to turn and have a look at her she’d just be smiling at you with her gnarled, black, teeth- but that ain’t all. If you were lucky enough not to land into a water trap, you still weren’t safe from her. She had mud traps too, and if they didn’t get ya, she might catch you herself in the night while she’s frog giggin. She’d spear you right through the ankles and drag you through the water back to her nest, and she’d boil you in her cauldron feet first.



  I was well convinced. And I know by how she would never sleep in her own bed at Pawpaw’s that Aleiah was well convinced with me. That’s why we never, ever, ever, even thought about going out on the water by ourselves. Cept one day…



  It was early, early, in the morning, Mom wasn’t up yet. That happened a lot, specially on ‘vacation’ like Mom always said we was doing. I got up with Aleiah, changed her diaper, and gave her a bottle before I had taken her outside to get some of the cool air before it got all sticky for the day. 

 Aleiah was sat down by the bank, just watching the dragonflies skim over the water. I wasn’t far behind her, I think I was making a flower crown outta the coneflowers and wildflowers that was sprouting up. Pawpaw had been gone well before sunup, as he was every morning during the summer. He was always out noodling during this time of year, and he brought back so many catfish home each night we thought we wasn’t gonna have any room to put ‘em all- but Mom would dress them and get them all clean and prepared to go into the ice chest while another portion thawed out for her to cook up. We ate like royalty every night- which was needed because Mom wouldn’t cook anything else for the day. If we was lucky there was extra okra or a spare catfish nugget to split between the two of us before Pawpaw came back and the two of them got to drinkin.



 I relished the peaceful mornings. Chores were done so quick and I could sit and play with Aleiah or have my own time, we didn’t get a lot of that outside of these summers since pageant season kicked up so much fuss. At this point I hadn’t heard the noises in some time, thought maybe I grew out of em. But as I wove a stem into the circlet I had been working on that morning to give to Aleiah to play with, a dread flung up over me. As if that cool, crisp, morning with blue skies and cheerful wilderness had been muted, dampened. And as if my ears was tuned specifically into it, I heard the awful noise bubbling up right from the bank. Like a flash I stood up, nearly splintering myself on the old creaky wooden picnic table that sat just at the top of the small incline toward the water. I locked eyes on them bubbles, they was coming up fast, and getting bigger, and closer. I didn’t see nothing coming out of that water, but it felt like my hackles was up, you know how cats look when they’re so, so, scared, their fur just goes up like needles to the sky? Thats how it felt on me. Like nothing could get me out of that seat and over there fast enough.



 I know I leapt like lightning toward Aleiah, sprinting as fast as my skinny little legs could carry me but time seemed to be frozen. I can’t say for sure that I got to her as quick as I could, it’s a dizzying sort of blur trying to remember.



  I just remember scooping my sister up, practically catapulting her back toward the shack when I pivoted- then felt the vice around my ankle. I don’t know that I screamed, I don’t think I had time. I just remember being sucked into the water like an unsuspecting balled up tissue into a vacuum cleaner- even had the subtle _thump_ as water engulfed my body and pounded into my ears and mouth. My body was scraped against all sorts of mystery objects so fast that I couldn’t hardly think to name them, I managed to grab one branch, it snapped. I reached for something else, anything else, sticks crumbled in my fingers. Rocks dislodged from their positions, algae strings snapped and slugged along, but there wasn’t nothing living anywhere near where I was being sucked through. I thrashed, I kicked, I flailed, I pushed against the water trying to get my head above just for a breath, my lungs were screaming to dispel the water and taste the precious air.



  The last branch I reached for stabbed me through my left palm, and another gashed through my right foot. Whatever had ahold of me couldn’t pull me any further, I was stuck. The pain was indescribable, but I couldn’t think about how much it hurt. I pressed up against another log and I got my head out, I vomited the water and I opened my eyes. It was hard to tell where I was with the sun shining so bright on the rippling glass surface, I could have been ten yards away from the bank, could have been fifty. All I knew was my mom’s voice screaming out for me sounded like she thought I was dead.



 You never really think about how your own scream sounds, not your real one. Maybe if you’re an actress making a movie, or on a date at a haunted house, but when you’re drowning, and swamp water is seeping into your opened wounds- your own scream will shake you.



 Mom had to call an ambulance, the EMT’s had to call the fire department, fire department had to call wildlife services- they had to get a crane to lower someone in to get me out. Which meant I had to hold my position with my chin barely above the scum for well over an hour. Finally the woman was lowered down took me up in her arms- like an angel from heaven. She was so strong, and so gentle unsticking me from all the mess in the water. I remember her smiling at me, smiling like it weren’t nothing she hadn’t seen before. She wore long braids in her hair that she had tied up and back to fit underneath her fireman’s helmet, and she kept saying stuff like “Come on honey, stay with me.” and “I almost got you, you gotta help me.” like she didn’t want me falling asleep.

  I don’t remember nothin after that, not til I woke up in the hospital. Mom wasn’t there, Daddy was sittin by my side and Aleiah was curled up beside me. I fell back asleep shortly after that but there was so much peace there that for a long time it was all I could really remember of the whole ordeal, first good sleep I’d had in months.

A policeman and a social worker had come in some days later askin’ me what had happened, I told them everything but by the looks they exchanged I could tell they didn’t believe me about the witches. I heard the woman talking to Mom and Daddy outside the door whilst I held Aleiah in the bed with me.

  “_It’s very common for children who’ve experienced such a traumatic event to rationalize it with something more fantastic or familiar, like a fairytale. It helps them cope, I wouldn’t try to correct her if she wants to talk about it, more than likely she won’t speak on it for a long time.”_

__

  _“Yes, yes of course whatever we need to do to help her- but what was it?”_

__

 _“With her injuries and based on where y’all are at- it all seems consistent with an alligator attack.”_

__

  _“Oh my- she must’ve been so scared.”_

__

   _“It’s certainly been a harrowing experience for her, but the silver lining is you have a very brave little girl in there. With counseling and time I’m sure she’s gonna be just fine. Here’s my card, I’m happy to refer you to a child psychologist I work closely with.”_

__

  _“Thank you very much, we’ll be in touch.”_



  And we was. I don’t think I was home more than a day before Mom had called to get me an appointment. Daddy was gonna stay home the rest of the season, but after about two or three months it was looking like we was gonna run out of money, and Daddy had to take a job as a dockhand a couple towns over. Mom took that real hard. 



 And one night, after Mom n’ Dad had me drink a whole lotta hop tea and two melatonin tablets- that's when I heard her. Her voice came through in the grating sound I’d been hearing.



  “_He-llo… Car-min…”_

__

I nearly wet the bed, nearly screamed, nearly did a lotta things but somethin’ kept me so still I could never have moved if I wanted to. I was frozen, totally. I tried to speak but nothing would come out my little chest, I was like a rabbit hyperventilating, being stalked by something- by everything- but I didn’t dare move. “_Don’t be… Sca-red.” _she said, and I couldn’t tell if she sounded different or not, was it just one person? I couldn’t even tell that, really. Then the shadow came, and it danced like a maze across my wall, down to the floor, and I could almost hear the high end of Mom’s piano trilling when it did.

  _DingDingDingDingDingDingDING_

__

I couldn’t see her face, only a small section of the wrinkled, watery skin on her arms and hands. It was hard to tell what was fabric, what was hair, and where her body exactly stood. The only clue was her exposed feet, which stood starkly out in the pitch black room. She rose up from the ground, fully upright, and as if she was being pulled up by a line slowly from being underwater- with great effort. Her veils and tattered gown must’ve made it hard for whatever was sucking her up to the surface, but when she did make it out her feet met the ground with a sickening sound.

  _Squelch_

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