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Official Bio
www.tonivsweeney.com
Toni V. Sweeney specializes in horror stories, though she has written in other genres as well. Her horror novel MURDER IN OLD BLOOD was compared to Anne Rice’s INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE by reviewer Margaret Marr of “Nights & Weekends Online.” Toni currently has a vampire series, THE SECOND SPECIES, in the making and has 3 short stories featuring the Undead listed on Amazon Shorts. Her other novels includes a sword and sorcery series, THE CHRONICLES OF RIVEN THE HERETIC, a sci-fi series, THE ADVENTURES OF SINBAD, as well as several single romance novels. Writing as Icy Snow Blackstone, she has one romance, THE IRISH LADY’S SPANISH LOVER, published as an e-book and paperback by Double Dragon Press. She is a member of the South Coast Writers Association in Orange County, CA, and is one of the bloggers on the Pink Fuzzy Slippers website.
What I liked: I find Toni’s stories to be generally well written. She has a recognizable style that’s easy to read and that just hums along. I like the fact that Toni isn’t afraid of humour (THE BEST DENTIST IN ORANGE COUNTY). I’ve also read: Shadow’s Crossing, an interesting treatment of The Ferryman Myth, and ONE FOR ETERNITY, a vampire story all of these teenagers in love with Twilight should read. It’s denoument is a little more realistic.
Will appeal to: romance enthusiasts, people who like cross genre horror, fantasy and sci-fi stories.
Criticism: too many dashes, descriptive sentences tend to be consistently long and paragraphs, perhaps, a little too short.
Buy Now: Amazon.com
Just ebooks: Double Dragon ebook
Amazon Shorts (complete works): Amazon.com
Clayton Bye
Horror Editor
Copyright © Clayton Clifford Bye 2009
THE LOVER IN THE LAKE
“Well! You’re up early,” Paul said cheerfully as Lisa appeared in the dining room doorway.
“Up late.” Wearily, she dropped into the nearest chair. “I’ve been out walking. I couldn’t sleep.”
“That bad, huh? Damn, I’m sorry, Lisa!”
Breakfast plate in one hand, Karen came through the kitchen doorway, looked at her younger sister and asked sympathetically, “Bad dreams again?”
She nodded. “And I can’t ever remember, except to feel that it’s the same one, night after night.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s just bad dreams that are keeping you awake,” Paul picked up his cup. “I’d hate to think it was because of what happened up there.”
“Paul–” Karen shot him a warning glance, shaking her head.
“What do you mean?” Lisa asked quickly.
“You know–about the Cannons’ daughter.”
She frowned. “The Cannons?”
“Yeah.” Oblivious to his wife’s scowl, Paul went on, “The old couple who used to own this house.”
“W-what about their daughter?”
“You have what was her bedroom. She died there.”
Karen set down the plate so abruptly that the bacon and eggs trembled. Lisa looked at it.
“Nothing for me, Kari. I’m not hungry.”
“I can’t imagine why!” She was looking at Paul as she spoke. “You need something, Lee. Just a piece of bacon.”
Dutifully, Lisa selected a strip of bacon, stuffed it into her mouth and chewed. It was tasteless. All she could think about was what Paul had just said.
Swallowing with an effort, she stood up.
“I think I’ll go for a walk.”
“You just came in from a walk,” Karen protested.
“Then I’ll go and lie down.” She looked up the stairs, suddenly did not want to be in that room where a young girl had died, “On second thought, I’ll just sit on the porch,” and made her escape down the hall.
“I hope you’re satisfied!” Karen turned on her husband so violently that he jumped.
“What did I do?”
“What did–?” One look at his face told her he really didn’t understand. “Paul, sometimes you’re so dense! You know the only reason Mom and Dad sent Lisa here was to help her recover from Mark’s death.”
His expression changed. They both knew how devastated Lisa had been when her fiancé had died in that automobile accident.
“Her mental state is precarious enough right now without you adding to it with tales of people dying in her bedroom! She didn’t know anything about the Cannon girl. I deliberately didn’t tell her.”
“Damn, Honey.” Paul was all contrition and apology. “I didn’t think–”
“No,” gently, Karen put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the trouble. You usually don’t.”
***
Later that afternoon, Lisa found herself once again by the lake.
In the bright morning light, it had been quiet, almost peaceful, reflecting the sky’s blueness. Now, as the sunlight faded, it became an eerie place shaded by high cottonwoods whose branches hovered protectively over the water, casting dense shadows into depths made murky by fast-moving clouds.
Usually, she found it calming to walk along the shore, but now, she felt uneasy. Perhaps it was what Paul had said.
The evening mist was already gathering on the lake, swirling upward in little wisps from the solid blanket that lay upon the water. Slowly, it began to creep toward the shore.
Lisa ignored it, thinking of her dream, trying to remember.
As now, she had been strolling near the lake.
The fog had rolled in too fast; Mark was standing just before her and she couldn’t even see his face. He was walking slowly, eyes intent on the ground.
“What are you looking for?” she asked him. “What have you lost?”
“My soul,” he answered, his voice hollow and terribly, achingly sad. “I’m searching for my soul!”
He lifted his head and she saw the tears of blood streaming from his eyes and Lisa began to scream…and scream…and…scream…
She stopped at the water’s edge, looking down at her reflection, at her ripple-warped image.
Mother and Karen think I’ll forget him. They can’t understand that I’ll never forget Mark, even if I live a thousand years!
The wind swirled the ripples into a small wave. Lisa’s reflection disappeared, and was replaced with Mark’s dear face, his blue eyes meeting hers, his mouth smiling, and then–gone, obscured by the mist that suddenly surged over it. Without warning, there was a splashing in the water, something was struggling within the mist, a shape, twisting and convulsing.
Lisa staggered back, hands to her mouth as the thing rose from the shallows, lake weeds clinging to its hair, mud and slime dripping from its arms, arms that reached out to her.
She took a deep breath, ready to scream.
The setting sun struck the fog. It evaporated in a swirl of white. The surface of the lake was smooth and even as glass.
Lisa lowered her hands, staring frantically around her.
A single bubble rose to the surface and broke the calmed water with a high-pitched pop!
She turned and ran toward the house.
***
The wind blowing from the lake rattled the windows, sending the branches of the oak tree scraping against the glass.
Everything conspired to make her drowsy, but she couldn’t sleep.
She kept thinking of what she had seen–or thought she had seen–at the lake, remembered how the water-blackened arms had opened wide, and how she had been ready to throw herself into their embrace.
Just before dawn, she finally drifted into sleep with the sound of the oak tree’s branches scratching against the window pane.
Now, the sound was soft.
Soothing.
Like the gentle beating of wings.
***
Once more, she was drawn to the lake, this time to prove to herself it has all been imagined, brought on by her lack of sleep and Paul’s ill-timed remark, and once more, she walked the shore, going in and out of the cottonwoods’ shadows, looking into the water.
All she saw was her own reflection, the setting sun reflecting on the water, and the jagged spears of light bouncing off the waves.
She stayed until the sun was down, not certain what she was waiting for, then finally started back to the house with a sigh.
She was trudging reluctantly up the slope when she saw the tall figure coming around the shoreline, head down, studying the bank, and she stopped, waiting for him to reach her.
Her heart began to pound, suddenly, furiously, as he came closer, still watching the ground before him. There seemed to be mist everywhere, whirling about his knees, touching clammy, vaporous fingers to her bare arms, obscuring his body so only his head and shoulders were visible.
He stopped, raised his head and saw her. He didn’t speak, just stood there, waiting.
“M-Mark?”
She couldn’t believe it.
He was standing before her. Not dead, not slashed and mangled by the broken fragments of the windshield through which he’d been thrown, but whole.
Unharmed.
Alive.
He smiled and shook his head. “Don’t jest with me, my darling.”
“You’re not Mark? But you look–”
He held out one hand, and Lisa put her own into it.
“I love you, Christina!”
The hand tightened around her own, became ice-cold and damp. Lisa tried to pull away.
The mist billowed and leaped onto the surface of the lake.
She was alone.
Lisa looked down at her hand. Clinging to her palm was a water-logged cottonwood leaf, dripping with pond scum.
***
The next morning at breakfast, when Karen set the plate of flapjacks, bacon, and scrambled eggs before her, Lisa said, “Just coffee, Kari–that’s all.”
“But you’ve hardly eaten anything for the past week, Lisa. You can’t–”
“I’m fine, really. “ Lisa interrupted, leaning over and kissing her sister’s cheek. “Just coffee, please.”
Frowning and shaking her head, Karen took the plate back to the kitchen.
Lisa looked over at her brother-in-law, who was enthusiastically tackling his own breakfast. “Paul–”
He stopped, fork halfway to his mouth. “What is it, Lee?”
“About that girl who died–”
Immediately, he looked uncomfortable. “Lisa, I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have–”
“No, it’s okay. You can’t soft-pedal everything you say around me. That’s no way to help me get over this.”
He looked relieved. “I’m glad you feel that way. Wish your sister did!”
“Karen giving you a hard time?”
“Is she!”
“Paul, that girl, what was her name?”
“Name?” He shrugged. “I don’t know–Carolyn, Carmilla…something like that.”
“W-was it Christina?”
“Christina? I think it was! Yeah, that’s right. Christina Cannon.”
“What did she die of?”
“Lisa, that happened a long time ago, nearly a hundred years. I don’t–”
”What did she die of, Paul?” she persisted.
“Some blood disease or something, pernicious anemia, leukemia–I don’t know. They probably didn’t know either, back then. Lisa, why all the questions?”
“Just curious, that’s all.”
“She was sick a long time–invalid… They say she used to wander by the lake a lot. Probably walking in that damp air is what really did her in!”
“How did it happen? Do you know?”
Paul set down his fork.
“Yes,” he said heavily. “I do. One morning, they found her lying on the window seat. She used to sit there at night and look out at the lake before going to bed. They figured she sat down, opened the window to look out, and…died.”
Lisa shivered.
“H-has anyone ever drowned in that lake?”
Paul looked at her.
“As a matter of fact,” there was the slightest hesitation before he plunged on, “in the past hundred years, about twenty people have died in or near it. They nicknamed it ‘Dead Man’s Lake.’ It seems to be a favorite spot for suicides. That’s why the house was vacant for so long–bad rep.” He picked up his coffee cup and gulped down the last swallow. “Then the present heirs decided enough was enough. When they rented the place to me, they told me the whole story. Guess they were afraid I’d hear it from one of the locals and back out. And now–I suppose Karen will really be all over me for telling you.”
Lisa didn’t answer.
***
For days, she stayed away from the lake, but as the sun went down and evening crept over the landscape, she could feel it–Him–calling to her, begging her to come back. At night, the wind blew even stronger against the window, the leaves making shadows move across the walls of her room, and as Lisa lay in bed, she thought that the shadows took man-form, seizing the window-frame and shaking it with angry fingers.
Sitting up, she looked toward the window.
In the clouds of mist gently roiling beyond the sill, she could see his face, hear him begging.
“Christina…Chris-s-s-ti-i-i-naaa…”
One pale hand struck desperately at the glass.
Putting her hands over her ears, Lisa rolled over, closing her eyes tightly, forcing herself not to listen.
***
At the end of the week, she knew she had to go back. She could no longer endure his pleading, his begging to enter Christina’s room, though the one he wanted was no longer there.
It came to her the night before. He doesn’t know Christina is dead! Once he knew, he–whoever he was–would leave her in peace.
That evening, she went to the lake, watching the sun go down, and walked the shore, waiting for the fog, waiting for him to appear. The moon came up, the wind grew cold, and still she waited. Then, just as she had nearly given up hope, she saw the column of mist rising from the lake, saw the vague body-shape within it.
It floated to the shore and he stepped from it, garments hanging in water-ruined shreds.
“Christina…” It was a caress in sound, spoken by someone who had loved deeply.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, felt the dripping black curls wrap around her fingers.
“Mark?”
One frozen-cold hand came up to touch her cheek, stroking fingers of ice across her chin.
“I’ll be whoever–whatever–you want me to be, Christina. I’ve already told you that.”
She wanted that, wanted him to be Mark alive again, but forced herself to say, “I’m not Christina. She’s dead.”
Hands slid to her shoulders, drawing her closer, that beautiful face looming above hers.
For just an instant, it held disbelief and a terrible sadness. Then, he smiled.
“But you’re so like her. I’ve waited too long…you can take her place…”
She looked up at him, didn’t answer, and heard his voice inside her head, inside her heart.
You can come with me. Leave this ugly place, walk the darkness with me. It’s so lonely in the dark. Christina and I should have been together but then she left me… I couldn’t live without her–she found peace while I–I’ve tried to find her…through the others…but they’ve all been too weak–and I was alone again–don’t let me be alone any more…
She looked up at him. “My name is Lisa.”
The chill of those hands was spreading, down her arms, through her breast. If he held her long enough, it would take her over completely, a few minutes more, and she would be as stone-cold as he.
Kiss me, Lisa, accept what I have to give you…take Christina’s place beside me…let my long wait be over–you’re so strong…you can survive coming into the shadows.
She raised her face to his, eagerly, thinking, Yes, yes, that’s what I want! To love and be loved…forever!
The dark head bent toward her. She looked into his eyes, Mark’s blue eyes, and saw the blood-red wash through them, holding her enthralled, keeping her from moving.
…and then, he smiled…
…and the cold moonlight sparkled off even colder eyeteeth, stark and serpent-sharp and bone-white…
Lisa hurled herself backward, out of his arms, out of the mist, running frantically, not looking back, trying not to hear his howl of torment and deprivation and longing.
***
“Karen, please! I’ll sleep anywhere! Just don’t make me go back into that bedroom!”
“We don’t have another bedroom. There’s nowhere else for you to sleep.”
“The sofa–I’ll sleep in the living room!”
“It doesn’t make into a bed,” Karen answered reasonably. “Lisa, don’t be ridiculous!”
“Please,” she caught her sister by the shoulders, shaking her. “Please don’t make me go back in there! He’ll be there–calling to me!”
Karen was staring at her, eyes wide and worried. “Who, Lisa? Not…Mark?”
“No! Him–he…” She shook her head, knowing that in a moment she would burst into tears. “…from the lake…I–”
Karen turned to Paul. “She’s hysterical. We’d better call the doctor.”
“No!” The sharpness in her voice made them both look at her. “I– You’re right, Karen. I’m being silly.” Squaring her shoulders, she sighed, “Of course I’ll sleep in my bedroom,” and managed a shaky laugh. “Where else would I sleep?”
Karen put a hand on her arm. “Do you need one of those tranquilizers the doctor prescribed?”
She shook her head, knowing she couldn’t explain and that she would have to face him alone.
***
That night, the wind beat against the window, trying to force its way into her bedroom. The oak flailed its branches against the panes, attempting to claw through the transparent barrier. He floated outside, whispering enticements inside her head, invading her thoughts, and her heart.
Backing away from the window, hands to her ears, she tried to shut out the pleading anguish-filled voice.
Suddenly, she couldn’t stand it any longer.
“I won’t listen! I won’t!” Her voice rose, shrill with desperation. “Stop it! Do you hear me? STOP!”
All sound ceased. The wind died down, the tree became still, he was no longer there.
With a sigh of relief, Lisa dropped onto the window seat.
She sat there in silence, a silence rapidly becoming overpowering. With a sickening sense of amazement, she realized that she missed his presence, as threatening as it had been.
This is insane. Why do I want him to come back?
She knew the answer. Because he looked like Mark. Whether he actually did or didn’t wasn’t important. Over a hundred years in the lake had destroyed his real features, wasn’t that why he had turned his face away from her in her dreams?
She wanted him back. God help her, she wanted him!
When Christina died, so had he. Weren’t suicides cursed to wander for eternity? And so he had, spending the next century searching for the girl he had loved, luring others to their deaths to replace her, and always failing.
But that didn’t matter.
What was important was that he was as alone as she, he wanted her as Mark had, and all she had to do was open the window.
Open the window and bid him enter. Take his hand and step from this miserable world into one of eternal love and desire.
Suddenly, she felt as if some terrible burden had been lifted.
It’s a frightening thing to be alone.
Smiling, Lisa stood up and reached for the window latch, pressed it down, and swung the sash outward. Then, she stepped back and waited, heart beating so loudly she was certain everyone in the house would hear.
She could see the mist forming outside the window, his beautiful face peering out of it. In a moment, he was solid enough to step over the sill onto the window seat and from there, to the floor.
When he held out his arms, she went willingly into them, breathing a deep sigh as he kissed her, on the lips, the throat–mouth cold and seeking.
His embrace tightened. She felt the icy points as they grazed her skin, shuddered and experienced a sudden panic and a desire to struggle, then relaxed as he raised his head to murmur, “I love you, Lisa.”
Then the sharp tips were pressing deeper and deeper until flesh was pierced and blood flowed into that waiting, loving mouth and the ecstasy began that would unite them forever.
Mark’s image flooded her brain.
“No!”
With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, Lisa wrenched herself from his arms, dodging as he again reached for her.
“Lisa?” His voice was soft and coaxing, showing none of the anger he must feel at being rejected once more. “Come to me, Lisa. It’s Mark. I love you!”
Had he spoken this way to the others, calming their fears, soothing their last-minute doubts?
“No,” she shook her head, backing away. “You’re not Mark. Mark’s dead!”
“Lisa–” He took another step toward her, and she stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the set of fire pokers on the hearth.
“I don’t want you–stay away!”
The beautiful face twisted and became ugly, eyes glowing red, mouth open, fangs gleaming. She had never realized anything could move so fast as he leaped the final distance between them.
She didn’t have time to think, just turned and seized one of the pokers with both hands, thrusting it out in front of her as he lunged.
It struck his chest, tearing through with a soft ripping sound.
For a moment, he was suspended on the metal shaft, disbelief, then pain, flooding his face, the bloodstained mouth crying out in anguish. Seizing the poker, he began to struggle, nearly pulling it from her hands, and then–
He stopped.
His eyes met Lisa’s and in them she saw acceptance, and something even more frightening.
Love.
The pale hands released the poker, falling to his sides. Slowly, his body began to tremble.
Become insubstantial.
Fading.
“Lisa…I…love you…”
There was a single flutter of light and he disappeared.
On the hearth lay a clump of cottonwood leaves, wet and black. Lisa was alone, holding the poker upright in the air.
It fell to the floor as she staggered to the window seat and threw herself upon it. Outside, the moon was shining on the lake and the water had changed, was quiet now, and peaceful. The wind began to blow over the lake with a soft whispering moan, like a murmur of grief. She thought she heard her name sighed once more in its quiet wail.
At the edge of her mind, she heard the pounding on the bedroom door, and Karen and Paul calling to her but she didn’t answer.
She had lost Mark, lost her one chance to have him back, had destroyed a being who also loved her.
Lisa sat on the window seat for a long time, crying quietly–for Mark, who was dead, for the Other, who had died not once, but twice, but most of all, she cried for herself, now condemned to the most cruel fate of all.
Life.
THE END
Copyright © Toni V. Sweeney
Tags: horror, horror author, Horror Fiction, horror novels, horror reading, new authors, New Novels
