Day 702

It's been raining for eight days non-stop yet the river is still little more than a muddy trickle in a damp trench. We know it's a blockage in the storm drain, could be anything but with the rain as it is nobody wants to go out and unclog it and out ourselves at risk. Too many people go missing in storms like this and turn up later as little more than bones tangled in the weeping willow branches down by the lakes.

Some people think there's a monster in there that can only come out during the storms. Mam says it's nothing for us to worry about, specifically our family. She says that the rain is the safest time for us to be outside and takes me and my sisters out for long woodsy walks right down to the lake where her brothers are always waiting for us.

They take us out on their boat to a small island a few kilometres out and leave us there with grandpa while they go fishing. They say storm fishing is what our family does best, it's the only time they manage to catch those huge fish, even if they do all the de-scaling, gutting and cleaning out on the boat. At least that's what they had us believe until we were old enough to be told the truth and too far involved to call the police.

At first we were so excited, Meg, Marlise and me (Mam had this thing for the letter "M"). Our first time storm fishing with our uncles and the first thing they told us is that we were now officially a part of the crew - we signed a contract and everything. Made it all official. Bad news later down the line but then we thought it was this cool secret club thing.

It went normally at first, we actually fished in the lake and managed to catch a few big ones. Then we headed for the river that ran through town centre, splitting off into tributaries that ran right through people's back gardens. The whole city was built in the middle of this network of rivers and we'd never thought to go fishing there before (never seen any fish there before) but our uncles insisted this was where they got their enormous ones from.

That should have tipped us off that something was wrong but we reckoned the rivers were just deeper than they looked and maybe that's how fish that big survived there. We kept thinking this until our uncles moored the boat outside a lone house right by the riverside and quite close to our own house. The folks had only just moved in, we'd seen their moving van heading down the street earlier in the day.

Uncle Shaun said he'd be back in a moment and left us with Uncle Tom to "guard the boat" like there was some kind of danger in the lake. With the size of the meat they'd brought back before, there could well have been some kind of danger about and the thought was enough to keep us in our place until he got back.

We thought he'd gone in to invite the new neighbours out to fish but he came back dragging them behind him. Uncle Tom helped him stash their unconscious bodies under the seats and we sped further down towards the area of the city that was mostly storm drains and filthy water, none of the good and clean lake water we were more used to.

They made us help skin, de-bone and cut "the meat". That's what they called that poor couple, refused to acknowledge them as human at all. I was picked to crawl through the storm drain in the pouring rain with the sack of "leftovers" (head, hands, clothes and organs) to dump back there away from prying eyes.

I thought about crying out for help until I remembered how many times I'd eaten the "fish" they'd brought back with them. How many times I'd asked for second helpings and even cooked raw cutlets for the rest if the family.

When I dumped the bag I wasn't alone. There were two young teens, not much younger than me at the time, soaked to the bone and waiting for me. They introduced themselves as Sara and Kyle - my cousins and well into "the family business" as they called it. Said they planned to take the leftovers to their Mam's butcher shop through the storm drains so she can make it into the stock she sells. Then they bring the bones back, all scrubbed with no trace of their prints, to hang on the weeping willows for people to find when the rain clears.

When I came out of the storm drain it all made so much more sense. I felt proud and disgusted with myself and helpless to change anything. What could I do? I signed the contract, we all did and now we're a part of this tradition for good.

Let the city think there's a monster out there.

Let them think it's not human.

Let them pretend to be safe like we pretend to be scared.