For the last year, I’ve had an urge to walk out to the pond in the back yard every night. I had no idea why I did this, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I went down and at least looked at the mud. I hated being forced to stare at it. The only thing more uncomfortable than the urge to go down to the pond was being at the pond itself. I felt as if something was below the murky water, watching me. Yet I continued to go down anyways.
After the first few days of this, my father confronted me. We never really had the best relationship, but I respected him. He’s raised me without any outside help, since my mother died when I was born. He asked why I was going down to the pond, and I explained to him the feeling. He definitely didn’t believe me in the slightest, but he let me continue.
Somewhere around two weeks after this phenomenon started, I started hearing things. It started out as faint whispers, and then discernible sounds of a woman’s voice. I thought that I must be going crazy, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell my father. After a bit more time, I could start distinguishing words. The first time it sounded like it was whispered directly behind me. When I turned to look, there were footprints in the mud. I ran back to the house that night.
After a few months, I started feeling a lot more comfortable. I had to come completely desensitized to the voice spouting seemingly random words. I had even begun experimenting with it. I tried asking it questions and for the longest time it didn’t respond. I commonly asked it who or what it was. The night before the first snow, I got a response. While it wasn’t the voice that told me anything, it’s crawled into the dirt beside the pond was three letters: M O M.
I didn’t believe it at first, but certain signs coaxed me into believing. Whatever feeling I had stopped occurring in the winter, it made me feel like it cared. It kept me warm instead of forcing me to go outside during winter I kind of missed its presence and I started waiting for spring.
When spring did finally arrive, the voice started answering me directly. Usually it only gave one word responses, and only one per night. Every single question I asked about what my mother looked like it answered correctly. I only knew her appearance through a picture, but it seemed accurate enough. Once I felt confident, I finally got the courage to ask the one question I truly wanted to know. “Why are you calling me down here?” Shortly after, that uncomfortable presence returned to the pond. The darkness seemed thicker around me, and everything went dead silent. I saw something move in the pond, quickly followed by the response “Help, revenge”. The voice was much more stern when it spoke this time.
I was startled by this change, and even though it only usually let me ask one question, out of impulse, I asked it “why?” It didn’t respond right away, and it took until the next night for me to discover what was written. When I walked out, the phrase “He buried me here” was scratched into the earth.
I was always suspicious about my father. While I respected him, I didn’t trust most of what he said whenever I questioned him about my mom. He shrugged everything off and now I knew he killed her. I went back into the house, furious. I asked him how my mother really died, and then gave the same response he usually did, but confused this time. I wasn’t taking it, and my father looked terrified as I wrestled him into the kitchen.
My father wasn’t the strongest man, so could I easily knocked him to the ground. I grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter. He pleaded for me to stop and asked what I was talking about, but I had already known what he done. I plunged the knife into his back. Satisfied, I went to bed.
That brings me to today. This was the first time I’ve woke up with the urge to go to the pond. Usually it only happens at night. When I walk down there, there was a woman standing in the marsh. She was not my mother. She didn’t look like her in the slightest. I stared in horror at this figure in the pond. All it did was laugh at me at me as it sunk into the water.
I think I killed my father, for no reason. I’m submitting myself to the police after I write this. Hopefully at least one person that reads this will believe me, because I know they won’t.