Win Some, Lose Some

Gloria opened her eyes to a new day.. She remained in bed and listened to the still unfamiliar sounds of the lake house. The bird sounds were different to the familiar ones she’d heard all her life in Dublin. Here were water birds; waders, ducks, and wild geese, their calls muffled by the morning mist which rose from the water and surrounded the house.

The lack of traffic in the country had unnerved her for the first few weeks. She’d found it difficult to sleep without emergency vehicle sirens in the background. But now, after living there for six months, the lapping of the lake against the jetty lulled her to sleep and soothed her anxiety. She had little to feel anxious about nowadays, their money problems were in the past, thanks to the lotto windfall, which had saved the family from certain homelessness.

She wondered if Paul was awake and snuggled closer to the man who’d been her husband for over twenty years. His eyes still closed, he rolled over and wrapped his free arm around her.

‘I still can’t believe we’re living here in this beautiful place,’ she whispered.

‘It’s real love.’ He squeezed her gently. ‘But you’re right, only seventy miles from Dublin and it’s like another world.’

‘The twins will be here in the morning, I bet you can’t wait to show them the new boat.’

‘Well, for sure they’re gonna love the fishin,’ there are some big ‘uns out there, just asking to be caught.’


The next day, Mike and Dave drove up from Dublin University. Their mother hugged them both. ‘I’ve missed you two so much!’

‘We’ve missed you too, Ma, and your cooking!’ Mike teased. ‘So, Da, where’s this boat you’ve been bragging about?’

Paul looked around the room for Dave. ‘Seems as if your brother’s beaten you to it and gone down to the boat shed already. Come on, I’ll give you both a spin on the lake.’

The men went off to check out the boat while Gloria finished cooking a welcome home roast. She heard the roar of a motor and peeked out of the kitchen window to see the new motorboat cutting a swathe through the calm water.

‘The hunters are home with dinner!’ Dave dropped a couple of good-sized fish in the big, stone sink in the kitchen. ‘Where’s the old man?’

‘Your father’s at golf.’

‘Golf! When did he become a golfer?’

‘He needed to find something to do with his leisure time. He’s enjoying it. Made lots of new friends.’

‘Seems like you’ve both settled down here, Ma.’

‘For sure we have. I’ve even joined the historical society.’

Her sons both teased. ‘Ooh, the historical society!’ They found it hard to imagine their hardworking mother simply enjoying life. They’d grown up watching her cleaning houses for other women, younger than her, to make ends meet.

‘You’d be surprised at the things I’ve learned. For instance, did you know the lake was formed when a tiny village in the valley was flooded to make way for the dam which now supplies most of the towns in Kilkenny with their water?’

‘You mean there are houses and shops under the lake?’

‘Yes, even a church and school.’

‘That’s creepy, don’t you think?’ Dave asked.

‘Yeah, I suppose it is a little morbid.’

‘Are you worried about flooding, with the water so near the house?’

‘No. This house has never ever flooded since it was built in 1870, according to the historical society.’

Her sons laughed and in unison they both said, ‘Oh, Ma! You and your historical society.’


Later that evening the family were playing cards in the spacious living room. The floor to ceiling windows looked out on to the lake where the light of the full moon reflected on the dark water. Paul stopped shuffling the deck and listened. ‘What’s that noise?’ The others stopped talking. They all heard a deep bubbling sound coming from the water.

The brothers went outside to investigate. They walked to the water’s edge and saw the ripples in the centre of the lake which gradually increased in size until they bubbled furiously. Curious as to the cause, they stood in silence until they heard a soft moaning sound. Dave grabbed his brother’s arm, ‘Did you hear that?’

The moaning continued until it became a loud roar. Mike stood, mesmerised, unable to tear his eyes away from the water. ‘Dave, look!’

They both saw it, just under the surface, a silver-grey, almost human figure, before it suddenly disappeared. The bubbling ceased, there were no more sounds, and the water soon regained its former stillness.

‘The brothers looked at each other. ‘What the hell...?’ Mike spluttered.

‘Gas leak?’ Dave suggested. ‘Maybe something which became loose and floated up from the old village?’

‘Or just a bloody great big fish.’ Mike gave a nervous laugh. ‘Go get Da.’

Paul came outside and shone his powerful torch across the lake. There was no sign of anything. ‘Come on lads, it’s probably nothin’ to be worryin’ about. We’ll take another look in the mornin’.’

They all readied for bed. Gloria felt the need to shut out the night, she felt as if their lives were about change, unable to shake off the feeling. Just before she closed the curtains, she saw circles on the surface of the lake, as if a large fish had dived under the water.


The next morning the family met for breakfast.

‘You look as if you didn’t get much sleep, Ma.’ Dave looked from his cereal when Gloria entered the room.

‘I can’t shake off the feeling there’s something wrong. I had a terrible dream.’

‘Me too. That was some weird shit last night.’

Mike spoke up. ‘I’ve been thinking about the village under all that water. What if something has been disturbed and caused all that commotion last night? Could it be a spiritual thing? After all the churchyard would still have had bodies in the ground when the water covered the village.’

‘What? So, you reckon the corpses suddenly decided they’re pissed about it all these years later?’ his brother smirked.

‘It could be a warning.’

‘You’ve all got too much imagination, that’s my opinion.’ Their father gave a wry laugh.

But Gloria wasn’t laughing.


A wild thunderstorm woke everyone the following night, but it was the loud crashing and banging coming from the boatshed which sent Paul and the boys scurrying out onto the jetty. What they saw made their blood run cold. The boat shed was a ruin, the roof beams twisted like corkscrews. The boat floated, untethered, out into the centre of the lake where it began to spin, slowly at first, until it spiralled like a spinning top before it disappeared, sucked down into the vortex.

When the men returned to the house, they found the lake had risen rapidly, a few inches more and the lawn would have been underwater. As they squelched through the soggy ground, the moaning sound returned, sending an ominous signal through the thick mist which enveloped them, the house, and the lake.


Gloria went into town the following morning to see if any locals knew of any legend that might include their house and the lake. The librarian advised her to speak to ‘Old Sheamus,’ whom she was sure to find propping up the bar in the Duck and Hen.

Shaemus began talking alright, after a couple of pints of Guinness, about the stories surrounding the drowned village. ‘Aye, people have been hearing strange sounds from the lake for years now. But if as you say the water level’s rising, it might be a sign you’ve woken it up.’

‘Woken what up!’ Gloria’s voice rose with fear.

‘Well, m’dear, for years before the flooding, the farmers’ crops were failing. Year after year. It was if they were cursed with bad luck. In desperation they made a deal or a pact with something evil in exchange for good harvests and prosperity.’

‘What did it want, this demon or spirit, for giving the farmers good luck?’ Gloria dared hardly ask.

‘A sacrifice. A child, or so the story goes. But y’know, girly, it’s just another Irish yarn.’


Back at home, Gloria revealed what the old man had told her. A child! They gave a child to the lake believing it would bring prosperity. But somehow, they broke the pact and now some dark force is seeking revenge. But what can we do to appease it?’

Paul paced the rug in front of the big log fire. ‘It’s ridiculous, even listening to some old soak’s ramblings.’

‘I feel as if we’re not welcome here, Paul. The house was a sanctuary at first, now it feels alien.’ Gloria nervously twisted a handkerchief between her fingers.

‘No! I refuse to be driven from my home by some fairy story.’

‘But we’ve seen it, heard it for ourselves! The water level is rising. Do you want to sit here until the house is underwater?’

‘Dad! Mike interjected, ‘How do you explain the boatshed and what happened to the boat?’

‘I can’t.’ Paul replied.

‘It took the boat, what else will it come for if we stay here?’ Dave asked. ‘We need to leave, Ma. All of us, before it’s too late.’

Paul wrapped his arm around Gloria’s trembling shoulders. ‘Okay, tomorrow morning,’ He relented. ‘We’ll go to a hotel for a few nights and reassess the situation. But it’s too late in the day to even consider leaving now.’


Sometime during the night, as the household were doing their best to sleep, the rainfall turned into a torrent. The level of the lake rose steadily closer to the house, a black unstoppable force.

Gloria discovered the floodwaters had entered the house under the front door when she came down the stairs before dawn. Panicked, she woke Paul. ‘Get the boys up! I knew we should have left last night. The lake’s coming for us,’ she screamed. ‘We need to go while we can get out.’

Soon they realised the floodwater was behaving differently from normal water, it was too thick, too insistent. It pushed itself forward as if propelled by some unseen force. Dave and Mike were determined to escape the house before the water became too deep, but the liquid shadow slid its way towards them, spreading its tendrils across their feet, determined, pushing on with surprising speed.

‘It’s coming for us!’ Gloria screamed. She grabbed hold of Dave’s arm, ‘we must get out!’ But the water was rising rapidly, past their ankles, quickly claiming the house for its own. Realising escape was impossible, they climbed the stairs to escape the rapidly rising torrent. The force of the water outside, slammed against the large picture windows, shattering the glass, allowing the lake water to rush in like a torrent, forcing the fleeing family to retreat higher until they could flee no further. The water rose past the tops of the bedroom doors. Up until that moment the family had managed to stay together, treading water. But inevitably they lost sight of each other as they concentrated on keeping their heads above the oily liquid.

‘Ma! Grab my hand!’ Dave’s voice screamed down to where his mother clung desperately to the loft ladder. He had found a temporary reprieve from the onslaught up in the attic. He reached down with his arm outstretched. Gloria grasped his hand and felt herself dragged up into his strong arms.

‘Where’s your father?’ Gloria looked around frantically. ‘Where’s Mike?’

‘They’re not here, Ma!’ Dave bellowed over the roar of the water.

Exhausted, Gloria dropped to the attic floor. ‘We’re all going to die, Mike.’ Her voice held defeat. ‘It’s taken your father and brother.’ Gloria sobbed. She sat and watched the floodwaters rise quickly through the floorboards, as if they had waited too long to swallow the house.
The water quickly rose, past her chest, her chin, her mouth and finally her nose. She closed her eyes.

The Story Words1999

Written for Short Shots. Prompt image.