****************************************************************************** * Ths story contains no adult material but several scenes with deep mud * * involved. If those offend you, please stop reading now. If not, go on and * * enjoy ;) * * * * I wrote this story originally with no WAM background in mind. I heard of * * this newsgroup quite a time later. Because of this, the story wasn't * * designed just to this subject but I think, it's okay anyway. This is the * * first story I post here but by far not my first story at all ;) If you'd * * like to read more from me (WAM or others) feel free to write me. * * * * English is not my native language, so please forgive any spelling or * * grammar errors. If you want to tell me what you're thinking about it, * * write me. Translated from German into English 24.11.1997 * * * * Greetings from Germany * * blacksquirrel@wupperonline.de * ****************************************************************************** The Pit by Black Squirrel (C)01.07.1997 (f/m, mud) Philip switched off the small TV; Midnight was just a few minutes off. "Considering being off tomorrow that early, we should go to bed in time." He looked over to Melanie, who was occupied by eagerly solving a crosswords puzzle. "Hey, honey! Did you hear, what I said?" Completely absorbed in thought his fiancée looked up. However, she managed it to reconstruct the meaning of the sentence by the last rags of words. "Why do you want to get up so early, then? The forest's not going to run away from us, is it?" "That's not the point, anyway. But you can believe me that there's a reason for it, that I want to be there before noon. I know a certain spot there, that I'd like to show to you. My ... my father and me often went to this place, when I was young. " Philip Newman Senior had died a few days ago. He wanted his son to be his exclusive heir, for he didn't have more children and his wife had died at Philips birth. They two had been always close, even as Philip Junior had left the little farmer village to study in one of the greater towns. There he met Melanie and learned to love her. When he got to know about his father's passing away she did a great deal to help him getting over the shock so fine. They together returned to Philips place of birth to sort out the heir of his father. "If you think so just go ahead, then. I'll try to fill in a few squares more." "But don't say I hadn't told you when you struggle to open your mole's eyes tomorrow morning." He climbed up the stairs smiling to get himself ready for the night. He was just lying about a quarter of an hour in bed when he first heard the slapping of the bathroom's door, and then sensed the soft voice of Melanie, singing quietly to herself. This habit of his fiancée fascinated him again and again, for she never hummed the same melody. She seemed to own an inexhaustible storage of tunes. Yet, she never had learned to play an musical instrument. When she looked around she soon recognised that she'd lost nearly all her bearings. The forest hat encircled her by all sides, there were no conspicuous spots by that she could tell the way back. So she just went off to one direction, hoping to reach the edge of the forest or find some hint. Soft mist wallowed over the moist forest ground. Still she didn't know, which direction was best; and it slowly grew dark. Suddenly she saw a figure ahead. It sat at the edge of a clearing which was bordered by trees in a nearly perfect circle. It was a boy who sat there crouched on a tree stump. His clothes were covered all over with dirt and his face showed pale traces of tears. While she got nearer she heard his quiet voice: "I was too weak. Too small. It was my fault." Gingerly Melanie stepped nearer and reached out her hand for the boy. Abruptly he turned around his head, but his face was that of an old man, wrinkled and grey stained. He yelled something at her but just in this moment glaring light came up. Melanie opened her eyes. Philip just left the room, quietly saying, "Good morning". Drowsily she turned to the alarm clock on her bed-side table and was shocked when she saw, that it was just half past seven. "You sadist!" she called somewhat powerless after him before she stretched herself and slowly got really awake. Her mood raised considerable when she stepped down the stairs and smelled fragrant coffee right after. Philip stood at the living room table and was just getting the last bits for breakfast ready. "'Good morning Phil," she greeted him. "Don't you think that it's still a little bit early?" Philip sat down and waited until Melanie took a seat herself, too. "I just want to make sure we won't miss anything," he said while filling up Melanie's coffee cup. "When we get there, you'll know why." "What don't you want to miss, then?" "I won't tell right now. I think, you should see it yourself without me telling too much beforehand." He ignored her protesting countenance and started eating. Melanie grabbed inside the bread basket, too, yet didn't stop throwing annoyed glances at Philip. By half past eight Philip pulled the door shut and locked it. Then they turned to the street that led east out of the village. Both carried a light knapsack with them because they intented to make a picnic. The sky was clear, only a few fleeces passed by in great heights. Secretly Melanie wondered feverish about what it might be, that he took for so important. Still she found nothing that somehow resulted from former stories and hints. Therefore it had to be something he didn't mention to her ever. This indeed left a certain free hand, still they had been together for yet three years now. By this time they had told quite a bit about each other already. It seemed as if this span wasn't long enough to learn about a man completely. Not that Philip was especially reserved to her, he actually chattered without stopping about himself and his experiences. She always found it very interesting, what he had lived to see. She had grown up in a totally normal surrounding herself. Her parents divorced themselves somewhen, she had been on the college and made her exams and moved into a students apartment. Measured by that what Philip was telling her life hat actually been very boring. So what could it be that was fascinating him like that? The road soon turned north but Philip followed a dirt path that continued in the previous direction. Soon they were on a forest road that was rimmed on both sides by dense woodland. The path itself had been in the beginning fairly broad, but soon turned into a small trail that measured not more than two feet from one side to the other. "And now watch," Philip said and pulled her off the way between the trees. The trunks stood very dense at this place, only a little bit of sunlight made it to the forest ground. "Not many people know this way. That's why it's always very quiet where we are going." He held her hand tight and crossed the forest on a path that Melanie's eyes failed to see. But he seemed confident enough. "Hold on to me, little girl, or you will get lost in the deep, deep forest," he intoned in a deep voice. "Oh yes, of course I will hold on," she chirped. "I'm all so scared." They wandered about half an hour through the trees until Philip finally stopped. "Well, and now close your eyes." "I won't ask you now why; I just won't get an answer anyway." So she lowered her eyelids and sensed that Philip laid an arm about her waist as he began to guide her. Smiling, she followed his tender guides, while she still kept her eyes shut. He led her a few yards before pulling back his arm eventually. "Now you may look." Melanie opened her eyes and looked about. She stood on a natural clearing whose centre was built by a approximately sixty feet wide lake. The surface of the water mirrored the trees about and the blue sky above. The sun stood closely to the highest point; nearly in the middle of the lake its image reflected. Philip bent down. "And now watch closely." He had something in his hand that he now threw into the water, right into the shining spot. A quiet splash followed, concentric circles spread about the place. The sunlight refracted on the ripples, got strayed and cast uncountable colourful sparkling dots onto the trunks and leaves of the trees. Never they stayed at one spot nor could you predict their movements. They changed shape, glowed up here and rushed away right after. Like the glittering of snowflakes in the light of a huge spot light they scurried off in all directions to reform again at another location. Melanie watched spellbound the bright speckles until the very last wave reached the bank of the lake. She was dumbfounded. After she had her mind mostly under control again she looked at Philip, who was just putting down his knapsack. "That was the most wonderful sight, I got to experience for years. How's something like that possible?" "I don't know. My father showed this place to me. We've been here often, always at noon. And then he spoke about his life - and about my mother." He began slowly to unpack the picnic food. "But the reason for the light reflections he didn't know either. Nobody but us two know now that this place at all exists, I reckon." "It's just located pretty deserted, for that." She helped him preparing the little lunch. "It's absolutely peaceful here, you don't recognise that there's a town including a highway a few miles farther." "Somehow unreal but nevertheless you are there." Meanwhile Philip had spread out the blanket and scattered the contents of his knapsack onto it. "How about you? Are you hungry?" "You bet! After this walk I could eat a full-sized horse at whole." She hurried up unpacking her share so that they could eventually eat. Later they sat at the bank while the sun slowly wandered further. Melanie had taken off her shoes and let her feet dangling into the cold water. "What kind of man had your father been?" she asked, after they had sat next to each other in silence for a time. Philip hesitated for an instance to get himself sure about the answer. "He was very nice, always calm and reasonable. He had the answers to all of my questions. At that time he'd been the manager of the small supermarket in the city. It's really funny, but he never gave vent to his annoyances, he of course had with his customers, to me. Later on I heard some things, how he occasionally nearly had flown off the handle because of an impudent visitor of his store. But at home he was the best father a boy could wish for. He went to the movies with me, played soccer in our child's team and dealt with my teachers and angry neighbours. After Dr. Berger sent him due to his persistent pains to hospital the will had slowly grown in me to be able one day to live on my own as good as he made it. By that time I didn't know he had cancer but nevertheless this thought lasted inside of me. Later on, dad had been released and bought that house, where we then lived a bit retired. Today I know why he had left the town: He knew, I would take over the house one day. Only today I can be truly grateful to him for that." "I really would have loved having a father like that, too. Unfortunately, my parents didn't get along with each other very well. After the divorce he set off to Austria and that's it. Except the monthly maintenance payments we didn't hear anything from him. My brother and I stayed with mom. I didn't really get to know him altogether. By that time I had just been four years old." "From that point of view we have got something in common. We are orphans, more or less." Philip picked up a small stone and threw it into the water. Since the sun wasn't shining onto the lake anymore the light reflections didn't occur this time. "We'd better leave now; there's still a lot to do." Together they packed and left the lake that in the meantime had become as flat as a mirror again. When they had passed the first line of trees a light mist began to spread over the lake. The two young people were at work since a couple of hours again and were already up to their necks into old rubbish. To one side they piled up that, they didn't want to keep, the other side was stuffed with more or less useful things or such, that Philip didn't want to give away. "Your father seems to have been a saving man. At least he didn't throw anything away." She pointed at a tangle of extremely old cables. "This stuff surely doesn't work anymore. " "And this had certainly seen better times already." Philip held up a pile of paper, that looked quite stained already. "Look at this, all ancient stuff." He turned through the pages covered with partly dispersed ink. "Nothing but numbers, calculations and so on. Just my dad. If there wasn't something to calculate for him, he was never satisfied." He threw the leaves onto the big stack and bent over for the next pile. "Not so fast!" Melanie suddenly cried out. "Something dropped out of that. Kinda book or something." She grasped at the object and held it into the rays of the light bulb, that dangled in a loose socket, so that they could both examine their discovery. "Well, open it eventually," Philip urged after he found out that there wasn't any inscription on the cover. Cautiously Melanie opened the cover. A flaky leaf full of small dirt specks was under it. Gingerly she turned the page and a drawing appeared, showing a young man standing smiling on a lawn. A signature was set below the picture: P. Newman, 1954. "Is this your father?" Melanie asked quietly. "No, I don't know this man. But he must have drawn him. I didn't know that he was able to do such things. But wait ... 1954, by that time he just had been seven years old! My goodness! If he was able to draw that good by then, why did he stop it?" "Let's have a look, maybe there are more pictures to come." Melanie turned the pages again. Philip watched her, while she skipped page after page, just to find always different Pictures of wood and field landscapes. Suddenly she dropped the book, which lost two of its leaves, with a scream. "That can't be ..." She breathlessly watched the drawings collection that for the moment kept its treasures concealed. "What is it?" Philip bent over and picked up the book. "I know that picture. I mean ... The drawing - I've seen that before." When Philip looked at her questioningly she pointed at the book. "Following that whole forest illustrations is a drawing that shows the lake, where we've been today at noon." Philip nodded, he just found the image. "The boy sitting there ... I've seen him last night in my dream! This is no joke, in case you believe that! I dreamt about him. Although he'd been sitting on a clearing full of mist, and his face had changed suddenly." Philip looked first at the picture then at Melanie. "I seem yet to have to believe it. Why sould you claim such a thing if it was not true? This here is a drawing of my father; he must have been approximately nine years by that time. The signature clearly says: 1956. Can you tell me more precise what you've been dreaming?" Melanie told him about her dream. At the end they were as puzzled as before. "What do you think why I dreamt that? I mean, such a thing had never happened to me before! I am not a medium after all." Philip gave a shrug with his shoulders. "Who knows, maybe you are? But if anyone had to, then rather I would be the one to dream of him. Besides I'm wondering why had he drawn the mirror lake dull on the picture. Not a tree is showing on its surface." Actually the bank of the lake was rimmed clearly by dense reeds, while the surface that had sparkled so lively this morning was held in monotonous grey. "I don't like this." Melanie shivered and threw her arms around herself. "I tell you something: We leave this for today and go to sleep. It will do both of us good to rest a bit. Things will look different tomorrow, believe me." He closed the book, took Melanie at his side and strolled down the stairs, that led from the attic into the first floor. This time it was him, who got to bed late, because he looked at the book again, page after page, full of remembrances and thoughts of his earlier life. The trees stood closely around her. Faint mist hovered above the ground that swallowed her feet. It was cold and Melanie shivered. She sensed that she'd been here before but she couldn't remember when. The night clad everything around her in deepest black. She felt that she wore nothing but her light night-gown; the numerous little roughnesses of the invisible ground dug painful into the soles of her feet. Since she didn't know which direction she should turn to she slowly moved on. She reached out a hand to prevent a collision with some obstacle and went forward. The pitch-black darkness suddenly was broken at one spot. Dimmed moonlight glimmered through the branches to her left. Slowly she approached the spot and finally stood on a clearing. Melanie held her breath. She felt that it wasn't a dream this time, although she didn't know, how she got here. Intensively she stared to the centre of the place that was, like everything around here, covered by the mist. Then she heard quick steps that came from the opposite side. Before Melanie could decide whether it was better to hide herself or not a boy came running out of the forest onto the clearing whom she instantly recognised. He began to cross the clearing at full pace. Melanie intented to call him not to run into the water but not the slightest sound came over her lips. One moment later he stumbled and splashed into the lake. But somehow the noise was wrong. It wasn't bright and clear like the sound when Philip had thrown the stone in; it rather was sluggish and deadened, more like sucking and smacking in which the screams of the boy for help mixed. At this moment the mist dispersed and Melanie saw the reason for the noises. The Lake wasn't longer a water hole; a muddy pit had emerged at its place that held the small body pitiless encased and slowly drew it deeper. He propelled uselessly with his arms and cried for help. Melanie wanted to run to him and help him to get out but her feet seemed to be stuck in the mist like the kid does in the mud. By now only the head and arms were still above the surface of the viscous morass and the screams became weaker. She startled when suddenly someone stepped onto the clearing to her right. It was a young man, that she had seen a short time ago. He didn't take notice of her but hurried to reach the boy. With one leg in the morass himself, the other standing on a limb sticking into the mud, he reached the kid a long piece of wood. The child grasped at this help and the man managed it to pull him out far enough. Yet one moment later the limb under him broke in two pieces, whereupon he got into the surge of the pit himself. The boy looked scared over to his rescuer who was pulled ever deeper down. He reached him the piece of wood but wasn't able to provide enough strength to pull the man out or at least some support. A few minutes later the boy sat alone on a tree stump and glared at a spot in the morass, where still an occasional bubble came to the surface. Faint mist clouds drew slowly from the rim over the pit. The sight blurred before Melanie's eyes to give way to a room that was most common to her. Ahead stood the broad double bed where Philip slept peacefully. She shook her head to be able to think a clear thought. She hadn't actually had the feeling of being dreaming, but yet she was in the bedroom of the house at the forest's edge again. Surprised she looked down at herself and noticed the dirt on her bare feet and the slight pain in the soles. Her hair was a bit damp, too; on the white night-gown were dark stains. /Then I've yet been there! And the man really sunk in the mud. Probably the boy's still there./ Melanie walked round the bed and began to shake Phil tenderly. "What is it, then?" he asked when he eventually opened his eyes. "What's the time?" "I ... Don't know what time it is. We have to go to the lake quickly! The man sunk in it and the boy's still sitting there! We got to go to him, before he'd get lost." "What? Sorry, but I seem not to be fully awake yet. What are you talking about? Which man?" "I've been at the lake, in the forest. It dried out, only a mud pit. And a man had just sunk in this! He wanted to help the boy but fell in himself." Philip sat up and looked Melanie firmly in the eyes. "You had a dream, honey! I'm sure. The lake can't just trickle away over night. Besides you don't know what happens there, after all you're here." "But it was no dream, surely not. Look at my night-gown or my feet. I /was/ - I /must/ have been there, how else come those stains on the clothes?" "Now sit here and listen to me. I don't want to tell you now, that you're lying to me or you don't know, what you are talking about. But yet think it over. Even if you would do a run it would take you more than half an hour to get there, assuming that you'd find the shortest way in the dark. Believe me, you /did/ have a dream and walked in your sleep." He softly stroked her hair. "I believe, the drawings of my father kept you too busy. Lie down again and try to sleep a bit more." Melanie's face got an oppressed expression. "Somehow I can't believe that it wasn't real. I've been so close, I still know every detail; I even still feel the mist at my feet." Slowly she stood up and went to the door. "Where're you going?" Philip asked a bit worried. She smiled. "Only into the bathroom, washing off the dirt. Don't panic, I won't run away at all." She left the bedroom and went to the shower to put herself to bed again later. It lasted long until her aroused mind let her sleep again. The next day started the like they ended the night. Still they dug in the old things that were piled in the attic. The next hours they spent sorting the no longer usable part by paper, metal and glass. By five o'clock p.m. they eventually had a few tight knotted waste bags standing before them. The cardboard boxes containing the paper they brought to Philips car. "I'll be rushing off now, " he finally said after they had stuffed the trunk. "Should I go and buy something while I'm on the way already? " "Not a bad idea." She listed some things that came into her mind. "When you're back I'll fix a fine meal for supper." Philip smiled. "I'm looking forward to. See you later. Rest a bit, will you?" He waved once more and stepped into the estate car. Little time later he was on his way along the broad street leading into the city. Melanie looked after the car for a few seconds and turned finally back to the house. She closed the door and went into the living-room to - as he had suggested - get a little relaxation. It really wasn't easy to sort such a collection of old things. Philips father had in fact been a very accurate man, the numerous bills and notes that they found in bundles proved that. About every object inside the house, and many no longer being there, was a document when and where it had been purchased. They even had found a bill from the year seventy-two that stated something about a record player. While she relaxed on the couch she looked around in the room. The furniture was rather simple, a few pictures at the walls loosened the atmosphere a bit while the ancient cupboard tried to hold against that. The table wasn't something to be called modern either, she could easily imagine two people getting into sweat while trying to carry it away. At this moment he noticed the stained little book that lay on the table. It was the collection of drawings they discovered yesterday in the attic. A light shudder ran down her spine. She thought back at her dream in which she had seen the young man and the kid. She wanted to sit up and turn over the leaves of the book but something inside her hesitated. What would she see in it? /So what, then? A few pictures, nothing more/, she thought. /I will open the book, look at the drawings and close it again. So why bothering to open it anyway?/ She still glared at the flaky untitled cover as if it concealed a dreadful secret. Slowly she sat up without taking her eyes off the book and reached out her hand for it. Her fingers twitched back lightly as she touched the paper. A moment later she grabbed the book and took it onto her lap. Carefully she turned the cover. Below was an empty page, then the drawing of the young man, that she'd already seen yesterday, followed. A bit nervous she noticed that he matched the man in her dream perfectly. Of course she had seen the picture before, but that she could remember a dream that precise hadn't happened to her yet. Slowly she turned the pages, looked at the drawings of the forest, ever new views of the trees followed. Finally she reached the page where she saw the boy sitting next to the mirror lake. The water was dull, monotonously coloured in grey. The artist had only shaded it a bit with the pen. Again she pushed a finger between the pages and continued turning the pages. It was the same place but the boy had stood up now. On the next picture he stood a bit closer to the lake, showing a blue expression on his face. Then he had stepped with one foot into the water, but no ripples showed up. Suddenly Melanie tensioned. "No," she whispered. "No, stay out! Don't go further!" Scared she took the next page. The boy now was up to his hips in the morass, for it couldn't be water anymore. Nearly against her own will she looked at the next drawing. He had lifted his arms and was sunk in over his belly, then up to his chest, the neck ... "No! Don't go! I'll get you!" Melanie shouted, threw the book onto the table and ran out of the door. She covered the distance to the branch in less than ten minutes. There she left the road and stepped onto the dirt track that ran between the trees. Here she slowed down her pace and finally stopped, panting. Her breathing came jerkily and formed white steam clouds in the chilly air. As she could take her breath easier again she went on. Uncertain she glanced into the forest, hoping to recover the path that Philip led her along. She didn't know exactly anymore how far they had went from the branch; additionally the beginning darkness was making the orientation even harder. But she had to hurry if she wanted to reach the boy in time. Suddenly she stopped and stared into the Forest to her left. This spot seemed familiar to her, even though this could be a sophism as well. But anyway she left the track at this point and ran between the trees. The trunks stood close to each other and stole the last rays of light from the advanced evening. Insecure she plodded ahead as fast as she could, got caught on jutting out branches and roots that tried to stop her. Obstinately she fought her way on through the refractory undergrowth, on into the direction where she assumed the lake - /the pit/, she corrected herself in her thoughts - to be. Meanwhile it had grown nearly pitch-dark. Only with trouble Melanie could tell the tree trunks from the rest of the darkness surrounding her. With one hand she protected her eyes, while the other was groping ahead for obstacles. The cool air bit through her thin clothing and caused goose-flesh on her skin. Cold sweat stood on her forehead and seemed to freeze into ice. She had by this time lost her sense of direction completely. Around her was nothing but trees, bushes and roots. Everywhere the same view, as much as she could see. Hesitating she stopped for a moment, took a full turn around and moved on, in some direction. Now she wasn't running for the boy's sake. She only felt the desire to reach the edge of the forest at any rate. Faint ground mist had formed that thickened slowly but surely to a dense layer. Her feet disappeared inside it as if she was wading through milky dull water. In the distance she saw for a brief moment the sparkle of light. That gave her a new clue and she started running again. Angrily she pushed twigs and vines aside that tried to hold her back. Then the forest suddenly opened about her and before she could stop, her feet lost the contact with the earth. Her run was slowed down abruptly as her legs penetrated a gooey substance. The mist around her swirled apart with concentric ripples and she could see what had happened: She got herself into the pit that she'd seen in her dream and on the drawings. Panic rushed up inside her. There was nobody far and wide who could come to her help right now. She desperately tried to free herself from the mud, bit the suction of the bog was too strong. Her body was already stuck up to her hips now in the bad smelling mud and every second she sank in a little bit deeper. She cried for help with fear and tried hard to escape the sure death by suffocation but every movement did get her only faster down. The pit held her in its cold embrace and wasn't willing to let go of her ever again. Air bubbles emerged smacking around her and brought foul smells with them. Her breathing became harder the deeper she sank; only her shoulders, her arms and her neck were still sticking out of the morass. Her power drained visibly, soon she was barely able to produce a scream. Her weak tries for escape were now not more than subconscious movements of a worn out body that had exhausted nearly all its reserves. Really soon the mud would reach her head, penetrate her mouth and steal her the air to breathe. Only a short time after that her hands would stretch out of the surface, searching for a support that would never be there. Philip parked in front of the big garage and switched off the engine. Cheerfully whistling he unloaded the shopping goods and carried the two bags to the hose entrance. There he stopped in surprise when he saw the door standing open. He looked around but couldn't discover Melanie. So he pushed the door open completely and entered the corridor. "Melanie! I'm back home!" he called, gave a bump to the door and carried the bags into the kitchen.. Until now nothing had moved. "Melanie?" Still no answer. Then he had an idea. Quietly he climbed up the stairs and carefully opened the door of the bedroom. Against what he was expecting he didn't find her there either. The bed hadn't been used. Shrugging he went back into the ground floor and entered the living-room. Here too, no trace of his girlfriend. Only the book containing the drawings lay on the table. The cover was open and several pages were bent by the weight. Gingerly Philip turned the book around and looked at the pages. They were empty. Cautiously he turned some pages back until the last drawing appeared. It was the picture of the boy, sitting by the lake. /For goodness sake!/ he thought. /She really couldn't be so crazy? She doesn't even know, where the lake is located! She'll get lost!/ He carelessly threw the book back onto the table again and rushed out of the room. Only a few minutes later he left his Astra. He had driven as far as the track would allow him to go, but now there was no more room for the car. So he took the torch that he brought along from the front-seat and ran off to search the way to the path. He hadn't been often here in the darkness, because of that he at first ran past the right spot. Yet then he found the path and followed it through the trees. While he was running he called Melanie's name repeatedly, hoping to get an answer from her. Branches hit him painfully in the face, but he didn't care. With his body bent over he kept running along the invisible path, until he finally heard the quiet voice of his girlfriend, exhaustedly calling for him. "Melly! I'm coming! I'm soon there!" Judging by his orientation he would be no more than sixty feet away from the clearing. And in fact the forest opened just a few seconds later ahead him. Full of horror he saw Melanie desperately reaching her arms for him. She had sunk up to her neck into a muddy pit that formed instead of the clear lake the centre of the clearing. Philip dropped the torch and looked around, searching. "Hang on, I'll get you outta there at once!" A few yards ahead a fallen tree trunk reached out into the mire. Philip found himself a long sturdy stick and climbed on his belly onto the trunk to reach the wooden stick out to his girlfriend. The trunk was too far away, though, so he dared to climb onto the branches that were jutting out of it. Eventually he could reach the stick far enough that she could grasp it and hold on. With an enormous effort of force he managed to pull her a bit out of the morass and turn the stick towards the bank. He noticed how the branches groaned and creaked under his weight. More and more he turned the life saving hold towards the rim of the mud pit until Melanie finally felt solid ground under her feet. Panting from exhaustion she stayed there lying, covered from head to toe with mud. Philip let go of the stick and turned around carefully. At this moment the branches gave way under him. "Philip, no! Look out!" Melanie shouted, but it was already too late. With a muted splash he fell into the pit. Desperately he tried to pull himself out by the remaining branches, but they didn't stand the weight and cracked.. Melanie wanted to come to help him but her powers were completely gone and she couldn't stand up. Helplessly she had to watch her friend troublesome gasping for air and uselessly trying to get support from the cracking branches sinking deeper and deeper into the mud. Melanie dug out her last powers and grasped the stick that saved her life and tried to get with it across the trunk to her friend. She even made it to reach him the wood but her strength wasn't enough to stop him from sinking. Tears of rage and desperation streamed over her face while the stick slipped more and more off her mud coated hands. "Philip! I can't hold you!" she cried. "I JUST CAN'T!" Then she lost the stick completely from her grip. Desperately she stretched out a hand for it but the distance was far too great for her to be able to reach it. Suddenly she noticed a light behind her. Then someone lay a hand onto her shoulder. She whirled around startling and looked right into the face of the boy, she had now seen more than once at the lake already. His body was wrapped into a white shimmering halo that yet didn't reach over to the trees. Melanie was paralysed. The sad face of the kid turned away from her and watched her friend, who was helplessly rowing with his arms. Slowly, almost easily he stepped onto the branches that Philip had used as a foothold, too. Melanie was just about calling a warning to him when she realised that the wood didn't even move the fraction of an inch under his weight. Speechless she watched the boy taking one step after the other without losing his balance once. Finally he stood on the farthest extents of the branches and bent down to Philip. His gleaming hand got hold of the young man's and began to pull him out of the morass. As slowly as before he now went backwards to the trunk where Melanie was sitting with great eyes. Philip grasped coughing the firm support as the boy let go of him. A short time later Melanie helped him come to his feet and stumble to the bank. There they both collapsed exhausted and stared at the still white shimmering boy. He looked at the two of them a while in silence, turned around and headed for the pit. Melanie was up to raise, but Philip held her back. Where the boy touched the morass, the ordinary water was forming that had fascinated her yesterday at noon. He strode over the lake and stopped in the middle. By now nothing of the pit had remained; the lake was clear and clean again as it was, when she had seen it for the first time. "Once I had failed," the boy whispered. Although he didn't speak aloud the two at the bank could understand every single word. While he kept speaking he seemed to grow. "Once a man lost his life due to my fault. But now I paid back my fault." The Child had now become an elder man. Philip's breathing stopped shortly when he recognised his father's face. He grasped Melanie's hand and stood up. The voice of the former boy grew louder. "Father! I hope you will now forgive me when I'll return to you now!" Slowly he began to sink into the clear water of the lake. Once again he turned to the couple standing at the bank and waved. Shortly after he had disappeared. The light ripples coming from the centre of the lake to the bank reflected the light of the now shining moon multiply. Then the reflections lost their brightness and shininess until the lake lay before them like any ordinary patch of water would. Light mist came up and Melanie shivered. Slowly they two left the lake that lay perfectly still behind them. THE END