Melantha kept me up at night. Her weeping was incessant and it made me restless. I visited Dianthe during the day but Melantha was never anywhere to be seen. Dianthe always made sure to keep my eyes from going up.


I knew Melantha existed, because I had heard the stories. Nobody ventured into the woods once the sunlight was no longer there. Those who had, had never come back. The ones who had been brave enough to go there, while the sun was up, had never gone back in.


Dianthe never spoke of Melantha and I knew better than to ask. My relationship with Dianthe could be considered fragile; I had no intention of destroying it over mere curiosity about who Melantha truly was and why everyone avoided the topic.


I was reckless enough to go every day to see Dianthe. Others were there sometimes, but I knew they weren’t like me; they were like her. I only had eyes for Dianthe, no matter who else was there.


I spent my days with her. She told me to never come back at night. I always supposed it was because of the stories that revolved around nighttime and the woods.


Melantha kept me up at night. Her cries could be heard from afar. It was obvious the whole hamlet could hear her. The eldest of the village called her The Night Flower. There were many stories about her, and an affair she’d had with a woman from the village.


Her stories were racing wild in my mind, as I lay on my bed, listening to her. Perhaps Dianthe could tell me what the real story behind it all was, why she wept during the night, but stayed silent as long as there was sunlight.


I put on my shoes and my jacket; I took my flashlight as I walked out of the door. Things at night changed here. It all succumbed to the darkness and shadows created strange figures, or even movement if you paid enough attention.


The more I approached the bridge in the woods where I met up with Dianthe every day, the louder Melantha’s cries got. Dianthe, however, was not there. I called for her.


Silence filled in the place. Melantha’s was no longer heard. Something brushed up against my side. I turned around. Nothing but shadows awaited before me, at the end of the bridge. There was a presence there, though. I could feel its touch linger on my arm.


Whispers came to my ears; they sounded like the soft whines of a dying animal. Goosebumps appeared on my arms. Something was really wrong. My breath fastened. I couldn’t get my gaze off the shadows, the lament coming from there.


I had to get out of there, although I was well aware I wouldn’t be able to do so. Melantha wouldn’t let me get away; she’d make sure I’d stay there just like she’d forced the other people who had dared to go into the woods.


As I was considering whether it would be smart to run or not, the whispers changed. They didn’t sound like cries; they sounded like a name.


Helen.


Shivers ran down my spine as I took a step back. Clearly, it was the wrong thing to do. A piercing shriek broke the quiet of the night. White eyes appeared in front of me as Melantha ran out of the shadows, headed towards me.


Terror coursed through me, at the sudden sight of the supernatural figure. Melantha got her grip on me. Branches and vines wrapped around me. The shriek was wrecking my ears. She stood in front of me.


I could finally see Melantha.


My scream joined hers, when hands wrapped around my arms, already tied up with Melantha’s vines. White, non-corporeal limbs pulled me down, trying to get me to fall off the bridge, to the water.


I could feel liquid trickling down my ears. Whispers added up to Melantha’s high-pitched scream, coming from behind me, from the void that led to the water under the bridge. They all whispered the same thing.


Helen.


Who Helen was, I had no idea, but that was something I couldn’t worry about now, because I needed to get out of there alive. Melantha wasn’t doing anything, she simply kept me there, awaiting for the ethereal beings to pull me down to the water.


The people from the hamlet who had ventured into the woods but never came back were the ones trying to drag me to the river, desperately hoping to get out of the cursed water by yanking someone there instead.


A sudden light appeared by my feet. My flashlight fell from my pocket and turned on.


The hands, the vines and branches, the whispers, they all stopped. The dead former villagers went back to the waters, waiting for the next victim to arrive in the darkness of the night. Melantha knelt on the floor and drank in the small light coming from the flashlight.


The difference was that it wasn’t Melantha, but Dianthe.


She was whispering the name Helen repeatedly, as she cried in front of the object on the floor. I stood there, watching in silence as I tried to recollect myself. 


Dianthe was Melantha.


I walked away at a normal pace. Any sudden move could awaken Dianthe’s dark side. It was of no use. Two minutes later, the weeping started again. That’s when I realized there was no way out.


Melantha caught up. Her vines dragged me back to the bridge. The flashlight was gone. She must have realized it wasn’t sunlight, but artificial light. It had angered her more than before. She was crying this time, instead of screaming.


The dead bodies were back with their non-corporeal hands and whispers, finally pulling me down to the water. The whispers changed again and this time, it brought more chills to my body.


Elaine.


They were saying my name. I fought them, multiple useless attempts to get their limbs off me. I couldn’t. I felt the water drench my clothes, right before my head was submerged under water.


The cold dark water wrapped around me. I struggled to breathe after three seconds of being underwater, because of my constant fighting against them. Even under the water, I could hear Melantha crying my name.


I looked up to the surface one last time. I saw Dianthe, smiling and crying and right before I took my final breath, filling my lungs with water and finally ceasing to exist, joining my former neighbors, I understood it.


I was Helen.