“Your turn, Christie. Truth or dare?” Emma asked, then quickly
glanced at Jess as they shared an eager, mischievous grin.
“Dare,” I blurted out, immediately regretting my choice as the wind
on the cold, pebble beach whipped my hair around my face.
The blue dye inside audibly slushed around as Emma shook the magic
8 ball.
“Should Christie…swim all the way over to Helena Island?” Emma
asked slowly before turning the black ball over in her hands to reveal that the
bobbing, floating die concealed inside answered: A definite yes.
My icy cheeks flushed bright red and my chest tightened.
“Oh I-I can’t. I don’t have, eh, a swimsuit with me,” I stammered, searching
desperately for an excuse not to do it.
“Ah don’t worry about that,” Jess said as she materialised a blue
sports bag from behind her back. “We packed a bag for you! There’s a swimsuit
in there that you can change into in that toilet,” she pointed to a public
toilet across the street from the entrance to the beach. “And we put a towel in
there too. The bag is waterproof so your clothes won’t get wet while you’re
swimming over. Now remember, you have to bring back something scary as proof
that you were on the island.”
Jess and Emma flashed dark, cruel smiles in my direction as Jess
threw the bag at me. I often wondered why I was friends with these girls.
“You’re not scared of Ethel, are you?” Emma smirked.
*
The Isle of Helena is said to be one of the most haunted locations
on the planet. Situated on the east coast of Northern Ireland, the small isle is
apparently home to the infamous phantom of Ethel Victoria, also referred to as
“The White Lady”. The island was populated by around 100 people in the 18th
century until a pandemic of the Black Death broke out in Northern Ireland. By
order of the Mayor of Belfast, Ian O’Flaherty, the sick from Northern Ireland
were shipped over, abandoned and left to die on Helena in an attempt to eradicate
the mainland of the disease. One of Helena’s natives, Ethel, had a young
daughter, said to be around two years old, who died from pneumonic plague only
a week after the first group of ill people were brought to the island. Folk
lore states that Ethel was so heartbroken that she drowned herself in the
lagoon near her home and continues to haunt and roam the island searching for
her daughter. More recently, the island is said to be polluted with radioactive
waste, which is the council’s explanation for the island being condemned, but
many believe that The White Lady is in fact the real reason for Helena’s
mysterious closure.
*
I stood on the edge of the beach in the white swimsuit and yearned
for Emma and Jess to tell me not to jump in but they just watched with their
arms folded and with spiteful smiles. The bitterly cold sea air was already
seeping to my bones. I dipped my toes in the water to test the temperature and icy
pangs shot up my legs.
“It’s freezing!”
“The sooner you’re in, the sooner you’re out,” Jess sneered.
Wanting to get it over with as soon as possible, I ran into the sea
and as soon as it was deep enough, I dived under.
As the chilly water swallowed me whole, every fibre of my body felt
instantly stiff and frozen. The arctic water pricked and nipped my body like
pins and needles. My hands were already blue and wrinkled like prunes and a
cloud of steam escaped my mouth with every exhale. I threw my arms forward and
kicked my legs hard towards the lump of land isolated by deep blue water. The sea
thrashed me around effortlessly and flooded my mouth and eyes with stinging
salt as I battled against the current. My muscles soon began to fatigue as I
struggled against the booming waves. Soon panic began to infest my thoughts as
I wondered if I would ever make it to land.
After what seemed like hours, I finally reached Helena.
*
Murky sunlight split through the thick canopy and illuminated the
lagoon. The pool was surrounded by a wild jungle of plants and waist high
grass. The lagoon felt like a den, almost completely sheathed in plant life
that held the creek securely inside like a shrubby giant pair of clasped hands.
I waded through the marshy land to have a closer look at the
tranquil lagoon.
In the centre of the emerald water, small bubbles arose, then a
mass of white hair immerged from the water. Slowly, a woman slid up from
underneath the lagoon and began to wash her long, snowy hair. My pulse thudded
hard through my veins as I thought about running back into the sea.
The skinny woman stopped and spun round on her axis to face me. Her
features fell and she soared up into the air and out from the water with
terrifying speed, casting waves with her, and flew towards me with an
outstretched hand and came to a grinding standstill a centimetre away from my
face.
“Bella?” She cried.
“No! No, I’m not Bella. My name’s Christie, I’m so sorry,” I
blubbered.
I turned to run but Ethel smashed through my body and came out on
the other side. I immediately felt like I’d been hit by a car and my insides
were drowning in dust and debris. I coughed ferociously and brushed the thick
powdery dust off my skin. Ethel was facing me again.
“I’m not Bella! I am not your daughter,” I said through my
spluttering coughs.
Ethel had porcelain, china skin that was cracking around the edges
of her face like old paint and her eyelids were bruised purple. Her milky hair
flowed down to her knees, her cheekbones protruded, her lips were pale pink and
she wore a ghostly, long gown. Her eyes were too far apart and her glassy
eyeballs were completely white as if they were rolled back inside her head.
“Help me find my daughter! I’ve lost her!” Ethel whined as her
blind eyes flickered around.
“Your- your daughter died, Ethel… She died a long time ago,” I said
gently, petrified I would make her angry.
Ethel was silent for a moment and then let out a huge, banshee wail
that shook the trees around us. I threw my hands to my ears to cover the
deafening sound as Ethel continued to cry with impossible volume. Thunder
roared and lightning struck several trees around us, torrential rain hurtled
down like bullets and gale force wind lashed and circled around the epicentre
of the island – Ethel. The tempest and Ethel bawled in unison as the island
itself came alive and I realised that Ethel’s enormous power as she was brewing
this storm.
After a few minutes, the weather eased and Ethel calmed.
“I know. I’ve always known she was dead. I just couldn’t accept it.
I tried to convince myself it wasn’t true,” Ethel whimpered as she wiped her
chalky cheeks.
“You have to move on, Ethel,” I said through steadying breaths.
“You can’t bring her back.”
Ethel’s hollow eyes gazed at me. She nodded as she bit her
quivering lip.
“I just needed someone to tell me. So I knew for certain that it
was true… Now I can pass,” Ethel thought aloud.
She gave me a sweet, childlike smile and gradually from the top of
her head down to her toes, Ethel’s presence crumbled into ashes that blew in
the mild wind past my body and into the ocean.
*
I clambered out of the sea and flopped onto the stony beach,
letting my chest rise and sink as I could finally breath properly again.
“So? Where’s the scary object we told you to get from the haunted
island?” I heard Jess chuckle from behind me.
My legs trembled like jelly as I struggled to my feet to see Emma
and Jess holding their hands out impatiently. Before I could say anything, a
small skull appeared in each of their hands, with mushy flesh and sticky blood
dripping from them. They both squealed, threw the skulls to the ground and
wiped their soiled hands vigorously on their clothes. The skulls lay on the
seashells and then evaporated into the salty sea air.
“What the hell was that?!” They shouted at me with curled up,
repulsed expressions.
I couldn’t help but laugh. A little parting gift from Ethel.
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