The Ring of Lost Souls

ISOBEL sighed as she lowered herself into the steaming water. It was hotter than she was used to, her skin turning pink as she sunk below the surface. Bubbles rose up around her chin as she came to rest on the bottom of the tub. She closed her eyes and relaxed. A smile and a sigh showed her pleasure. Her knees were white islands as they rose awkwardly out of the tub that was too small for its owner.

Shadow lady watched as she lay there. She fretted every time Isobel's nose ducked under the bubbles. If she drowned, then there would be no way either of them could escape their personal hell. She knew this, but had to get her message across to Isobel. That was the tricky part.

It was a full hour before Isobel rose from the tub. She felt a little light-headed as she stood up, a little strange also, like she had little mites crawling around in the pit of her stomach. Then a stabbing pain, reaching out, she clasped the side of the hand basin and pulled herself up. The pain subsided. Isobel put it down to a pulled muscle - heavens knew she'd had a pile of them since taking up jogging. Any slight chill she felt in the surrounding air, she put down to the white enamel of the sink.

The shadow-thing jumped back to avoid contact. She was nearly quick enough. Besides the cool shock Isobel received, the shadow received a heat shock in return.

That night, as Isobel slept fitfully, the shadow-thing stood at the end of the bed, watching. With each REM, every flung arm and leg spasm, the thing grew.

Except grew wasn't the right word. Perhaps 'gained substance' is a more apt way to describe it. As Isobel dreamed of dark places and bloody rooms, the little ghost absorbed her energy. It remembered her pain, her sorrow and her terror. Each emotion fed the creature. The stronger the emotion, the more the creature turned from a grey smudgy shadow into something that could easily be construed as a ghostly entity.

***

ISOBEL HAD NO IDEA what was happening. Shadows danced ahead of her in the candlelight. She pushed back branches as they hung down over her. No matter how many she pushed aside, more seemed to appear; each one stronger and more obtuse than the last. In the end, she had to turn away. She knew there was something in front of her she needed to see, someone she longed to meet, but there was no way she could get through all that greenery.

Turning, she looked for another way around. Behind her, she found a bath. It was centred in a room completely tiled in white. A man, a doctor of some sort, exited to the left. Isobel only got the quickest glance of his facial features, and it was shadowy to say the least. Shaking her head as the man disappeared, leaving her with a feeling of dread; she turned back to the bath. The image, the room itself was growing up and around her out of the bare earth. Graffiti decorated the walls. Tags, ghoulish pictures and a bloody pentacle adorned the walls. She could see the bath clearly. It was the only thing in the room which was clean. The greenery was forgotten.

She inched closer. Her breath was jagged and left little puffs of wispy fog as she exhaled. It was so cold in there. She reached the edge of the bath and hooked her fingers over the edge. Hot water caused tendrils of steam to rise up out of the tub. Isobel could feel her face warm as it curled around her invitingly.

"No," squeaked a little voice behind her.

Isobel turned like she was caught in a thick funk of chewing gum; all slow and delayed. A little girl stood behind her. She was tiny. No more than four foot ten, she guessed. Her mousy brown hair hung limply at her face, barely reaching her shoulders.

A beaky nose stuck out of a face hidden by shadow. Isobel wanted to lean over and brush the hair out of the child's eyes. The girl stepped forward and the shadows cleared. Large dead brown eyes stared out from underneath a choppy fringe. Haunted eyes, Isobel thought. Dark smoky bruises smudged their way underneath them.

Isobel felt sorry for the little waif. She wore nothing but a hospital gown. There were no shoes on her feet and one hand was gloved with what appeared to be a fingerless stocking glove.

"Who are you?" Isobel asked.

The girl, who wasn't really a girl, she noted, but a very petite woman, shook her head and disappeared. She didn't turn and leave, she didn't walk away. One second she was solid and standing there, the next there was nothing but air and graffiti between Isobel and the wall.

She shrugged, unconcerned with the strange turn of events. This was a dream, after all. The bath still lay there, inviting; enticing her to enter its warm depths. She reached over and grabbed a bottle of scented oil.

Her clothes fell from her body as she approached. Stepping into the deliciously warm water, a sigh escaped her lips. Nothing had ever felt this good before. It was the queen of all baths.

She crouched down, resting her head on the back of the bath. Her hands draped at her sides, the fingers on one stretched out like they were ready to receive a gift. She felt the bottle still in the other hand and lifted it up. She couldn't read the words, so took off the lid and sniffed the contents. It smelled like musk and incense all rolled up with vanilla and cinnamon. Divine. She poured the entire contents of the scented oil into the tub with her.

The cold oil made strange patterns on the water Isobel but did not see them. Instead, she closed her eyes and let the unusual sensation of cold oil and hot water dance across her skin.

Something strange happened to the room. Each breath she took made the room shudder and flicker. Sometimes the graffiti disappeared, sometimes people appeared. With each inhalation, it was like a different period of time occurred. Reappearing like a movie that jumped about from one disjointed scene to another before disappearing. Sometimes she screamed as nodes filled with electric current were attached to her temples. Other times she smiled at a man who smiled back. They were memories and scenes of time gone by, of times yet to arrive and of a small dark room that made her nose wrinkle and her eyes burn with the sharp smell of ammonia.

"Who are you?" Isobel repeated, even though the woman had gone.

"No one of consequence," was the reply.

Isobel was not surprised when she heard the voice. It was deep and traveled to her ears from what appeared to be some great distance. She strained to hear him.

"I know you," she said.

"I've been waiting for you,"

"Wake up!" This was a different voice

Startled with the sudden shout, she shot up in the tub. The water was cold. Isobel shivered, rubbing her hands up her arms, trying to warm her frigid body. Her teeth chattered wildly inside her mouth.

The water she sat in felt thick.

Looking down, Isobel found it was no longer water she was bathing in.

It was blood.

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