I pulled the body from the lake, at least what was left of it. On my knees, my toes felt the wet grass underneath - the sensation contrasted the wrinkled, decayed skin of what was left of my daughter. For a moment, I looked at her face: a fatal error. The mouth was wrong enough, a rictus or a gaping maw leaking water and worms… But the real issue were the eyes. Two bottomed out black sockets, like the ones you’d see whenever you dig a hole at the beach. Carlita’s milky gaze reflected the moonlight above us.
To be honest, I wanted this to happen - just in a different manner.
It all began ‘round 2008. Valeria, my then-girlfriend and I, looking for a home. Six months pregnant, and me fresh out of college. I didn’t want to marry, you know? I’d been dating Val for exactly one week when she got pregnant with our first child. Look, I wasn’t a popular kid in school. College wasn’t any better. There was always some asshole who played sports better than me, or some asshole who had more money than me. The world is full of people who’re always one step ahead, and you start feeling like you’re in a fixed roulette game.
So of course when Val came into my life, I fucked her good. She was easy. Like, went to bed with me after a couple of drinks at Mel’s party. If only I had bought some damn condoms… But that’s life. Girls will only go to bed with you if you have money, looks, or if they’re drunk. I managed to trick Val into sleeping with me, but she trapped me with a kid. She’d then proceed to live off of me for the next nine months.
Jesus fuck… Finding a place in ‘08…
We got twins. Carlita and Rodolfo. Coño man, if it hadn’t been for my parents, I’d never have made it through. They lent us a family place, some old apartment an uncle used to own. The place was half abandoned, but I got Val to clean it up real good. For a bit, everything worked out. I’d landed this job driving a Lift Truck at night, so at least I had time to game during the day.
That’s whenst it all went to hell.
I remember this night… Was playing CoD. The original Modern Warfare, the new one at the time wouldn’t come out until a month or so. I remember getting frustrated that night, felt like I was wasting my youth having to take care of a kid and maintain my wife when I was just 24… Damn. Just then, a loud crash jolted me.
No one else seemed to notice the sound. From the looks of it, both Val and the twins were still asleep. But the sound didn’t stop. I was in the old study, with a clear view of the hallway to my right. Something was… breathing on the other side of the doorframe. I couldn’t look at it, as if it was lying in wait just beyond the frame, covered by the dark.
And that smell, something akin to a toilet that hasn’t been flushed in weeks, or an open wound at a hospital. I would have noticed it more, were it not for the fact that the breathing sound became louder. I sunk deep into my sofa, not being able to move, hoping to God and above that by staying very still and protecting my backside, whatever was behind the doorframe would go away.
Just then, a clicking sound. Something that looked like a hand streched its long, pale fingers into my study. It was getting closer. Closer. Closer.
Suddenly, a white light. It was morning, I was still in the couch. Val was standing in front of me.
“Mark, why’d you fall asleep here on the couch? I told you these games aren’t doing you any good…”
“Leave me alone, Val.” I struggled getting out of the couch, now covered in sweat. Did I really pass out? Why was the television off?
“You promised to get up early and help me paint the bathroom ceiling…” There was that annoying tone in her voice. She was draining me.
“Ugh, I forgot, honey. I went straight to gaming because work last night was too taxing. Please, can you let it be just for one day?”
She sighed a bit, but then offered a smile. “It’s ok, I’ll finish it for you.”
I wouldn’t see anything else related to that breathing sound for a few years. I wouldn’t have minded so much, were it not for the fact that when I went to see the kids, they got up and walked towards me, laughing and smiling. They looked like average three year olds.
My kids were supposed to be three months old.
. . .
Ten years later, things weren’t much better. Valeria had gotten a decent job as a manager at a McDonald’s, but I wasn’t getting any offers. I felt too tired to take care of the kids, so we had left them at my parents’ house. Both them and Val judged me, but it wasn’t my fucking fault. I wasn’t getting any younger, and I hadn’t been able to ever experience my youth - I was 34 and I hadn’t ever done anything for myself, but it was expected of me to watch over every single thing my kids did.
Fuck, I wished they didn’t exist at all. If they could just die in a fast manner so I could be done with them, that would be the best solution. Maybe that, and have a more pleasing wife.
The night it happened it rained a lot. I was just drinking a bit of beer by the kitchen, looking at the outside. Maybe it was all my fault, I thought. Maybe it just so happened that I was a born loser who could only land a shitty wife and some shitty part time jobs. So of course, with each passing generation, everything would get worse. My parents were mediocre - I was a loser - what would my kids end up being? Shit rolls downhill, after all.
Then suddenly, that loud bang.
An odor, a sigh.
The breathing began once again. But it only lasted a bit. This time, whatever it was, started doing this… Backwards laugh, as if it was inhaling lots of air rapidly. All the while it seemed to get closer and closer.
The strange laughing sound got louder and louder, but then it stopped. One of the lights simply burst, followed by a set of scurrying steps powering through my living room.
They were headed to my kid’s room.
I ran as fast as I could, but nothing prepared me for what awaited me there.
A figure, draped in crimon, with long fingers running through my little Rodolfo’s uncovered body. The face, I could not make out. But I remember hearing a voice, something akin to breaking glass:
“Aren’t you warm? I’ll make you feel cold.”
As soon as I entered the room, the figure vanished, but something else changed. When I looked at my boy, he wasn’t himself anymore. What remained of Rodolfo was a wrinkled, deformed thing with long white hair and rotten teeth. My former ten year old had left a stench, with vomit covering his striped shirt.
“Da-ddy… I- I feel weak…”
Those were his last words.
. . .
I couldn’t bury him. Val was beside herself, obviously, but I couldn’t say the words, nor even look at him. Fuck, I wasn’t ready for any of this. Life just hurled me tragedy after tragedy. I broke down, and told her to please help me. She patted me on the head, wiping away her own tears. “It’s ok”, she managed to say.
“You’ll finish it?” I asked, like all those years ago.
“Yeah, I’ll finish it for you”, she smiled back.
I turned away from all the people, only to find my mother looking at me, a severe expression on her. Was I in trouble?
“We need to talk.”
We sat on a bench near the tombstones, the hot summer making my shirt stick to my skin. Mom was sweating too, but she wouldn’t admit it.
“Markito… Do you remember the stories we used to tell about your uncle?”
“Do you mean the religious stuff? As in Santería and all that?” I looked at her, with an interest I hadn’t shown before.
“Yes. Do you know why he left?”
“A girl, right? A bad relationship or something.”
“No, not really. There was a woman, of course. Her father didn’t like your tío, not one bit. So he did what all rival families do. He cursed him. Not out of Santería, of course. Something much… Different.”
“What are you talking about, mom?”
She looked at my son’s tombstone in the distance, then placed a hand on my own wrinkling one. “Mark, what do you know about the Drowned King?”
Something like a distant scream bled across the sky, turning it into an orange hue. “Not much, tío did tell us stories a bit when I was a kid, but… Nothing much. He said he was the one who… The one eats…”
“Him who eats time. Yes. The stories say he traveled from the ancient lands. A shape-shifting sorcerer or a witch-king, drowned eight times in a river until the fishes ate his corpse and soaked his clothes in his own blood. He brought pestilence to the lands, and now haunts lands filled with that same disease.”
“Yeah, I remember bits of that. What… What about it? You’re not going to say I’m being haunted by that, are you?”
“Look at you mijo. You carry the curse of the one who’s being marked by the Shapeshifter, El Cambia Cuerpos. Once a family invokes his services, he’ll slip in, disguised, and slide into your body like a knife. Letting you be so close to your uncle was a mistake. I think the drowned king marked you too, just like it used to mark those who lived in war-torn lands, or places where the plague killed a lot of people.”
“Jesucristo mamá!!” I yelled, kicking away at a nearby rock. I stood up. “My son just fucking died, and I didn’t ask for any of this! Nothing related to this fucking family was my choice - not my jobs, not my responsibilities, and certainly not my lack of a proper future. All I wanted was some time to enjoy my youth without children by my side all the time. And now…” I finally let some tears fall to the ground.
“Besides…” I say. “You said it yourself. A thing like the Drowned King would only haunt places filled with pestilence or despair.”
“When did you say you experienced your first aging incident, Mark?”
My throat dried up. “Around… Around the market crash.”
. . .
The pandemic took what was left. Valeria had to take Carlita to her parents’. She couldn’t spend much time with me due to how busy she was with work, even if remote. Our daughter was safer away from us, living with loving parents.
If you have to ask why didn’t my parents pitch in, you can guess why. All I remember is their darkened bedroom, a mess of dust, and nothing more.
Except for that reversed laugh it made when I ran away to call the police.
Was it actually fucking with me? Why?
Sometimes… Shit just rolls downhill, I guess. It was my turn to bear it.
And we did, for a time. Until tonight.
Carlita was home, I tried playing some Mario Kart with her. It was nice, bonding through something. It’s a shame Val had to work late, I thought - her job was very quick to eliminate the remote schedule as soon as the quarantine years ended. But it was fine. I’m not a great cook, but I bought some pizza. This year, I finally got another job - selling electric drills at a mall. It was good.
Guess it didn’t like that.
The lights went off all at once, exploding. Carlita ran towards me, knowing something was up. I held her close - she was only 14. My body - now in its fifties, could barely stand. Somehow, me and Val where the only ones who aged. Just then, I could feel the apartment floor starting to crack. Some appliances fell to the ground as the nails and structures holding them gave in.
It was destroying the house.
. . .
“Stay with me, honey! Ok? I’m not going to let it hurt you. Ok? Stay with me!” I say, looking my daughter’s face. She tries to scream, trying to let me know something is in our living room.
It’s strange, looking at what’s been haunting you your hole life for the first time. You almost feel relieved.
A strange face. Familiar, contorted and inflated like a tumor growing out of the side of its head. Soft milky eyes, and a purple tongue, cut in half.
“Is it warm here?” It sounds even worse when facing it.
I try to run with my girl, to no avail. Her long, sweet arm starts to feel different. Harder… Wrinkled. I look at her in horror, we’re out of the house.
One look from me is all it takes to break her.
She pushes me aside with what little strength she has, running into the nearby park. I cannot find her in the middle of the night. I look for her for at least five minutes, having forgotten about the Drowned abomination in my household.
By the time I reach the lake, I can only laugh at the irony.
. . .
I am now in my couch, just like all of those years ago. I type this just so there can be a testimony of it all. It told me the truth: As long as I let the world know about it, it promises to make it quick. It just wants one thing after all - To consume everything in our lives, until nothing else remains but itself.
I cannot go on. I’m tired of everything. My body feels two decades older by now. I can’t type.
I look up at it once more. The creature, it now sports a familiar face, grinning.
Of course, it’s a shapeshifter. Figures it would have done me in by taking advantage of my weak spot all those years ago. It’s been staring at me, as if it’s going to do some-
…
“It’s ok. I’ll finish it for you.” I say to Mark, placing my hand on his computer. It doesn’t matter that he was sobbing uncontrollably as I too his device away from him. Nothing matters at all.
The last thing Mark felt was his loving wife’s embrace.