Mother of all crazy creeks

CW: Suicide or self harm, Mental health

September 27th, Dad might’ve peed his pants a little when his old dog showed up on our doorstep. I still don’t really understand why. He’s always touted that “old life begins anew when new things die,” and now he’s been proven right, but he’s not proud? Oh yeah, by the way, Melissa’s gone. No biggie. Dad’s old dog is our new dog now. She probably wandered into the creek like those deer from last week. I had given up on trying to find her. I mean, weird stuff is bound to happen when you live next to a creek that brings dead things back to life. I’ll have to postpone asking him the question. By the way, I gifted him a diary yesterday, and I hope he likes it.

27th of September: Dearly beloved, new friend, old life begins anew when new things die. This truth is a constant in my studies, and poor Melissa had to pay the price. The fog will prove purple in due time, of course. In the meantime, it seems that our constant, recreational encounters with death have desensitized my daughter.

September 28th, I appreciate our new dog. Dad, not so much. Apparently, having the pup he raised with mom come back all grown up brings up some “unpleasant memories.”

October 1st, Caught dad crying while hugging the dog today. It doesn’t seem to remember him yet. Idiot dog. I still haven’t gotten the chance to ask him anything.

October 5th, Dad and I went to the graveyard today. I couldn’t build the confidence to ask him anything. But I did get the corpse of some midwestern guy named Arthur. I threw him into the creek, and I kid you not, the first thing he did after coming back was ask to go to the bathroom. He wasn’t even done with accepting the fact that his bottom half was gone before he dissolved. Shame we can’t bring them back twice. He seemed like a cool guy. Also, the fog on the creek is changing hues.

5th of October: I saw a strange look on my daughter’s face today, as her growing brain processed the fog’s color shift. I will tell her the truth about my experiments soon.

October 6th, Mom’s birthday is next week, so Dad’s a little depressed. It’s been, I don’t know how long. I wish I could remember her. Until I can ask him those questions, I’m no different from that demented golden retriever. Thank you for helping me remember the things that are happening, though.

October 7th, Went by the creek alone today. Its fog is more purple than yesterday. Dad’s out hunting. Digging up the past is one heck of a pass time/past time. Note to self: ask dad how you write it. Anyway, got this old lady from the 1800s. She was more surprised by the fact that she couldn’t see her own reflection in the water than the fact that she was alive again. She was weird. I’m glad she dissolved quickly. It’s funny though.

7th of October: Lately, the long hours of my waking have been spent on the test, a reality I unfortunately must distort to my dear, innocent Ellie. I will explain some truths about the creek to her in a couple of days. Not the whole truth, however, that will have to wait.

October 8th, Creek’s foggy today. The fog is more purple than usual? It’s getting cold. Tried to ask him today, but he was holding up the dog and crying again. It’s becoming a problem.

October 9th, Dad finally explained to me how the creek works for living things. He taught me that, if live things are submerged, they dissolve and bring a dead thing of their choice back to life. What??????? He also said to never try it. It’s unnatural. I promptly reminded him that he’s a former biologist (nerd) who now hunts deer for our only source of food. I also reminded him that we throw corpses into a body of water to talk to them for half a minute before they disappear. None of this is natural. I kind of wish that he would give me answers to the question that I actually want to know the answer to. Then again, I haven’t asked them yet.

October 11th, Forgot to write yesterday, was too busy pondering the implications of what dad said the day before. If Melissa chose to bring back the golden retriever, does that mean that she had free will? Did they know each other? Does this have anything to do with the increasingly purple fog? These questions are so unimportant, actually.

October 12th, Tomorrow’s mom’s birthday, I think. I’ll ask dad those questions.

12th of October: Martha’s birthday is tomorrow. I will honor her sacrifice. I will fix my mistake. She will return to our embrace.

October 13th, After waking up, I found dad by the creek. He told me that he woke up early to catch the sunrise. He lied. I was up all night, as per usual, but didn’t hear him come back from hunting at all. And the wood floors are creaky enough for mice to make noise. Plus, I recognize those circles around his eyes. They are the same ones that I see in the mirror every morning. Still, I asked him the question. “Daddy, why can’t I remember what mom looked like or anything else before I turned 10?” He looked at me. Then, he walked away. What?

October 14th, Dad has been in the woods all day. So, I had to talk to the stupid dead things.

October 15th, Dad’s back still hasn’t talked to me, though, and he’s crying with the dog again.

October 16th, I made him some deer “stew” for dinner, and he seems happier. He’s funny again. He’s also accepted the golden retriever as a member of the family, as he is going to take it to dig up the past with us next week. I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO NEXT WEEK’S CREEK TIME WITH THE NEW DOG. That said, it’s hard to take him seriously when his beard is smudged with stew.

17th of October: My wonderful daughter made me some stew yesterday. It was warm like her laughter, and something breaks inside me every time I must withhold the truth from her gentle gaze.

October 18th, I went by the creek again today. It’s beautiful this time of year. The leaves are starting to yellow, and the bears are finally gone. I didn’t bring any skeletons with me, however. I figured I could use the silence to think about whether I should ask him the question again. Probably not. I mean, I still remember that look on his face when I asked him that question.

October 19th, I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I couldn’t shake off the thought of asking him the question again. But I knew that I couldn’t. So, I did what any normal person would and went by the creek alone, at night. Hunting, Dad wasn’t here to stop me like he had always done. He’s been out late into the night more lately. Its surface reflected the gentle moonlight and reddening trees. I peered into it, but this time I couldn’t see my own reflection. The moonlight must have done some crazy magic with it. Either way, I stayed there until the sun rose and I could see my reflection again. Then, I came home, but Dad was still out. So, I made stew, left it out, and went into the woods to see if I could find him. I couldn’t. He’s back now, though, and he’s furiously writing his new “Journal.” I will get my hands on his Princess Diaries. There’s probably not much on there, though. He‘s just gotten back to it.

19th of October: I have been pondering lately whether I should tell my daughter the truth. She will soon find out about my experiments and the truth about herself. With Ellie around, I know not whether to continue those experiments. What if she learns of the truth herself? She is a brilliant girl; I will not lose her again. I must tell her. Yet, the silence of the creek whispers gently into my ears. It yearns for me. I yearn for it. I must try again.

October 20th, Turns out, the creek also works at night. I threw in this dashing Daniel from the 1960s. You should have seen his reflection kissed by the moonlight. He had beautiful pecs. It was majestic. He’s older than Dad though. So…

October 21st, I have completely forgotten about the questions for the past couple of days. I don’t think I’ll ask them anymore. Creek’o clock with the dog and Dad is coming up. That’s fun. Maybe I’ll ask him about the purpling fog? Going to sleep now. Note to self: steal his new diary once he leaves the cabin tomorrow for comedy material on creek day.

October 22nd, What in the actual heck does dad mean by telling me “the truth” and his “experiments”? It’s back to the crazy creek instead of sleeping again, I guess. Tomorrow should clear things up.

23rd of October: Friend, I do not know what I must do. I told Ellie the truth today, all of it. She knows of herself and her mother, and my experiments now. The burden of truth lies on my back no longer; it is now hers to bear. I pray to the Lord that she will find it in her heart to forgive me one dawn when the sun’s rays reflect a violet fog. In the limbo between then, my experiments must continue.

October 23rd, My “life” is a lie. And the dog’s “life” is a lie. And everything is a lie. Dad took me to the creek tonight and finally answered my question about my memory. He explained why I couldn’t see myself or the dog in the creek at night. We are one in the same, undead. The thing was brought back by our old dog drowning in the lake. I was brought back by my mother drowning herself. That explains the memory gap. Mom died so I could come back to life, but I still can’t remember her voice or her face or anything else about her. I must help him bring back Mom, whatever the cost may be.