What Happened At The Lake

My loveable roachy-boo calls

Vera closed the door behind Erha, wondering how her little sister managed to get that much money. It didn't bother her much that her sister had money. What really bothered her was how she didn't know about it for so long. It just simply begged the big obvious question.

What else did she not know?

She was going to her sister's room to run a quick search into her sister's most private secrets when the telephone suddenly started ringing, it's sounds somehow more sinister than they had any right to be.

Vera didn't pride herself on being super smart but she knew that when a telephone rings while you're home alone on your death day, it would be in your best interest to ignore. But the Spanish voice in her head kept telling her it was only her mother.

Vera strode to the telephone's desk, summoning the courage from the depths of her soul; it wouldn't hurt to check the telephone's screen to be sure, "I'll recognise my own mother's number at least" she thought.

However, if Vera expected any normalcy at all, she was about to be proven very wrong.

Indeed, her mother's number was the one displayed on the screen, at least it would have been her mother's number had it not all been upside down smiley faces. Vera quickly averted her eyes, holding on to the fictional belief that "if you don't acknowledge it, then it can't hurt you".

A second telephone rang from her room upstairs, each consecutive ring getting louder and louder until it seemed like it was ringing right inside her ears.

Entering the house, as if ushered in by the cacophony of sounds that only two telephones could make, was a presence so thick that she could cut it with a samurai sword. It felt as though everything that was evil, unholy or impure was pouring into the house and she couldn't escape.

Vera felt like a naked prisoner on an execution block; it was like a circle of her enemies were watching her, seeing right through her; staring at her soul with hateful eyes filled with malice and laughing, laughing at her. She felt small, helpless and truly alone.

The sounds of hissing and scurrying like that from a thousand armies filled the house, the very ground between her feet vibrated with an unnatural intensity, the powerful pungent odour of something that had no place in this world emanated from every corner and even worse was the repugnant taste in the air.

From every nook, cranny and hidey-hole they arrived, covering any and everything was an overpowering intrusion of roaches; Black, hissing and evil, marching towards Vera with deadly speed.

Vera was unmistakably doomed