I was seven when I saw her through the sliding glass door that provided a view to our lake. It was the red balloon that ignited my excitement. I ran outside without telling my parents. When I stepped foot on the shore, I got a better look at the woman sitting in the small wooden boat. Her shriveled black curly hair sat atop a wrinkly forehead. The woman’s big puffy cheeks made her eyes look like tiny specks.
“I’ve got a balloon for you, dear,” she said with a raspy voice.
“Maya! What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be out here!” my mom shouted from behind me.
Mother’s arms wrapped around me, and she carried me back to the house while I kept my attention on the woman on the boat. She looked angry, as she drifted away from shore.
When we got back inside, mom yelled at me and reminded me that I was not allowed to go outside alone. I questioned her about the woman, asked if she knew who she was, but mom changed the topic and then sent me to my room. For the next seven years, I never spent a second near the lake by myself; the only time I was out there was with my parents. I never saw the boat woman again until I was thirty.
I had a home in another town and a six-year-old daughter of my own. One summer, I made a trek to the lake house that my parents still resided in. When my parents immediately mentioned the same rule from my childhood—don’t let your kid outside unattended—my interest in this mysterious stranger grew to the point that I demanded that my parents explain who she was. They finally told me the truth.
I learned that the woman’s name was Brenda DeWitt, and that she had passed away at least forty years before I caught sight of her.
“So, you’re saying I saw a ghost, this doesn’t make any sense,” I said, puzzled.
“Maya, listen carefully. This Brenda woman, rumor has it that all she ever wanted in life was to have a kid of her own, but for whatever reasons, she was not able to. She decides that if she can’t have a child, then nobody can,” my father chimed in.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Bodies started to surface. Small kids of various ages. Townsfolk said it was Brenda that killed them. So, the people of the town decided one day to drown Brenda in the lake. To put an end to her. But… she came back. And she continues to lure kids onto her boat,” dad said.
“This is just unbelievable. You actually want me to believe this nonsense?” I replied.
As I got into an argument with my parents, I realized that I had forgotten to check up on my daughter Evelyn, who was supposed to be playing with her toys in the bedroom. My heart thumped with panic when Evelyn was nowhere to be seen. I rushed out to the lake and noticed a boat in the distance.
“No, no, no,” I yelled.
I jumped in the water and swam out to the boat. I climbed inside—and to my relief—the boat was empty. But seconds later, I caught a glimpse of a red balloon pressed against the water. I paddled over to the balloon and tried to lift it up, but it was heavy. I pulled and yanked on the string, trying to reel it in. And then I felt it, a lifeless body. When I lifted the body out of the water, I wailed. Evelyn sat atop my lap, motionless. Bricks had been fastened to her chest to weigh her down and pull her below the water.
I knew it was Brenda. It had to be. Furious with my parents for not selling that house and moving away when they first learned of Brenda, I stopped all communication with them. I haven’t talked to my parents in a few years. It does make me wonder if there is something they are not telling me.