A Family Tradition

A Family Tradition

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Cool lips trail over my cheek and find purchase against mine. My eyes open and, in the pale blue light, she floats overhead. Her red-brown hair dances above her, fanning outward like the flames that burn within me. Her hand glides over my chest, a wisp of feeling that sends waves of heat through my body. Her hand continues to descend and I feel my body responding to her touch as she encloses me and begins a gentle, rhythmic movement. I'm lost in the feelings of desire and passion... of animal need. I try to speak, to tell her to stop. My words shimmer like silvered orbs. I've lost all control and I feel myself release in a paroxysm of relief... I see her smile, white teeth gleaming in the azured twilight that slowly shifts through violet to red and then to black...

Jeff sat upright in the fading darkness, breathing hard. "Oh God, not again..." he rasped into the night. He turned on the bedside light, partly to reassure himself he was in his own room. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was 6:30 and the dawn's first frail light confirmed it was morning.

He'd had these dreams--each slightly different but all highly sexual and all with the same woman--every night for a month.

"This is crazy," he muttered to himself. With a self-conscious smile, he added "This is messy!" as he contemplated the wet spot on his sheets.

The bedroom door opened, startling Jeff and making him jump. Hunching forward, he felt the warmth that had suffused him earlier climb unbidden into his cheeks.

"Jeff? Are you OK, son?" His father's voice came in the opening.

"Yeah, Dad," he said, "it was just a dream. Go back to bed." Jeff was upset with himself. His father hadn't been feeling well, acting lethargic and depressed as of late. Jeff was worried.

The door opened a bit more, his response evidently giving permission for his father to come in. "You sure? I heard a lot of groaning." Rich Jensen stood in the doorway. Like Jeff, he was slightly less than six-foot in height but he had a solidness about him that Jeff's eighteen-year old frame couldn't match. They both shared the family's trademark sandy hair and blue eyes.

"I'm OK," Jeff said adamantly.

"No need to get testy." His Dad's voice was strange, almost tense. "You want to talk about it?"

Jeff shook his head and started to dismiss his Dad with "It's OK..."

"A beautiful auburn haired woman?" Rich interrupted.

Jeff froze, momentarily embarrassed before it struck him. How the hell does he know?

"I think we need to talk," Rich said cryptically. "Why don't you..." He hesitated a moment, then grinned as he finished, "Get changed. I'm going to start some pancakes. Come join me when you're ready."

Jeff scurried to the shower. There was something about the water flowing over him that seemed... familiar, comforting. Brushing aside the thought, he lathered up and was soon out and dressed.

Heading down the stairs, the earthy smell of brewing coffee wove its magic with the smoky tang of frying bacon. I'm starving, he thought, surprised at just how ravenous he felt.

Rich was standing at the stove flipping a pancake as Jeff entered the room. "Pull up a chair, son. Breakfast will ready soon. I thought we'd do something together today but first, let's eat."

The steam from the mug of coffee rose into the pale air, reminding Jeff of the ghostly dreams he'd been having. "Dad, how did you know..." he began but Rich waved him off.

"All in good time," was all he would say. They finished breakfast in relative silence.

After breakfast, the dishes were rinsed and stacked before Rich finally spoke. "Son, let's go for that walk."

There as something in his voice—a wistful quality it seemed—that caught Jeff's attention. "Is everything OK?" His earlier concerns came back. Jeff knew that the males in his family had a history of dying young. Most, he'd been told, had met tragic accidents but it still played on his mind.

Rich let out a small laugh. "Yes, son, everything's as it should be. Come on. I don't want to let such a beautiful morning go to waste."

They left and headed down toward the lake.

As they walked, Rich began, "Jeff, the fact that you're having these dreams tells me it's time for you to know our family's history. We've lived here--in this house in fact--for generations. Ever wonder why?"

Jeff thought for a minute. "Well, 'cause this is our home. It's where we belong, isn't it?"

Rich smiled. "Yes, it's where we belong. Remember all those stories I used to tell you? The one's about dragons and fairies and mythical creatures?"

Jeff nodded.

"Well, not all of those stories are made-up. Most tales have some truth, some basis in fact, behind them. You're great-great-grandfather discovered that when he first moved here. That's when he first met Maria." He paused for a moment. "She's rather unique," he finished lamely.

"Maria? I don't remember ever hearing about her. Is this some sort of... family secret?" Jeff stumbled to find words that would make sense.

"Well, yes, it is but it's really more of a family tradition." He smiled a sad smile. "It's Maria calling you in your dreams."

Jeff stopped in his tracks. "Are you saying I'm being visited by a ghost?"

"No. She's alive and well."

"But," Jeff paused and did a quick mental calculation. "She'd be over a hundred years old!" he finally stammered.

"Maria is special. She's one of a few remaining water-women. She says her race is known as the Aloja. I'm sure they're not immortal but, from what I gather, they live thousands of years... and they never age."

Jeff laughed nervously. "You're putting me on, aren't you." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Rich's eyes met and held his son's. The serious expression in his face, tinged with sadness and acceptance of what was coming, quashed any further laughter.

"It's time you met her," was all he said.

Jeff looked around. Somehow, they'd walked around the lake and were now poised at the end of the family pier. The morning fog lay thick on the water, swirling and moving just above the surface. Jeff felt a stab of fear as he watched the intricate dance of mist take on a darker overtone as he imagined the secrets that hid there.

Looking into the water, he saw the smooth surface begin to ripple. His eyes, straining to see into the mirrored darkness, became aware of movement which slowly resolved itself into a face -- one he was suddenly aware that he knew. His momentary surprise was overwhelmed as he was caught up by her beauty. Staring into her eyes, images that became words filled his mind and he knew what he had to do.

His father seemed to fade from his mind as he began stripping down. Without pause, he lowered himself into the water. As he sank into the depths, he felt her embrace. For a moment, panic filled him but he found that he could breathe, the water retreating from around his head. He looked at the—what? Creature? No, this captivating woman was no illusion. He felt her laughter as her thoughts reassured him that all would be well. All the feelings that he remembered from the dreams came back; he knew this wasn't a fantasy.

Her lithe body shimmered in the curtains of light that seemed to drift around them. Young firm breasts pressed against his chest as long powerful legs enveloped him. Her touch, cool in his memory, was filled with lust's heat and he felt a savage rush as an ancient instinct took over.

Writhing in passion, he entered her as she began to move, meeting him thrust for thrust. The water seemed to boil around them but the heat was all within, fueled by his driving need. His mouth began to trace her neck, her shoulder, until it found her breast, its nipple taut with excitement.

Pulling his mouth from a firm nipple, he stared into her eyes and saw the remembered flash of white in her smile... but it wasn't the same.

Suddenly it became clear to him as he felt generations of memory flood into his mind. Her memories were his and he saw the truth. His ancestors were part of a long line of forage and their demise were not accidents, simply an end of usefulness. Maria needed the energy of his youth. She fed on the life force which, during the height of passion, was at its peak. His father's slowing down, his depression... it all made sense.

A shadow passed over him and he became aware of his father sinking down toward where they floated. As if paralyzed, Jeff watched as Maria broke free and with a powerful kick, hurtled upward. In an instant, her powerful jaws closed on his throat. There was no struggle, only a resigned acceptance as his eyes faded to an opaque lifelessness.

"Nooooo," screamed Jeff finally realizing the full implications of what was happening but no sound came out; only a silent line of silvery bubbles marked his objection.

The water, once clear, began to cloud as the sun's light lanced through the fog at the surface, penetrating the darkness. The water took on a red tinge as Jeff watched his father slowly spiral downward, colored ribbons of his blood swirling in the current as he sank.

Maria returned and, in spite of his disgust and pain, he was driven to enter her once more as though possessed. With a final burst of energy, he felt her shudder in orgasm as he released at the same moment. More than fluid, he felt a piece of his soul leave and he knew he was forever bound until...

Disengaging, Jeff allowed himself to float upwards. The reality, more nightmare than any dream, lay on his heart with a crushing heaviness. Drifting, a thought came to him. Possessed, he thought. Yes, that's the word.

At last he knew his true family tradition.

An entry for "Supernatural Writing Contest - Closed" 
Word Count: 1705
According to legend, these water-women, known as Aloja, can live for thousands of years and retain their youth. It is said that the lakes where the Aloja bathe can boil in anger if any stranger enters them. In Majorca, the most famous water-woman is Maria Enganxa. According to tradition, she lives inside all the wells and cisterns and takes all the children that pass near them with her hook.