Our church was out on Weresig Island, a good hour's drive with clear weather and when the road wasn't flooded by tides that never matched the forecast. The Strood was the only way in and out - nobody in their right mind sailed in the area, not with the strange shapes that never stopped prowling where the sands dropped away into the pitch black sea.
I didn't know why we went to that church in particular, especially when we passed three others on the way up and all of them looked decent enough. I only ever asked my parents about this once and received a lecture that lasted the entire drive and summed up to "we go where our folk are".
When you're a child everything in your life seems normal, everything is just how it is and everyone else is a bit weird but you - you are just as you should be. At least, that's how I saw things back in my younger days and now I know we were as far from normal as anyone can possibly get.
We weren't human for starters.
We were human-shaped but that's where all similarities ended. We had more in common with the prowling shapes in the black water than any Tom or Jane we shared a cup of tea with. For me, our differences came to a head when I told a friend that our church was under the water and we all had gills.
He was understandably annoyed at first and then scared when he realised I was being serious. Nothing about us looks unusual when we're dry and on land but as soon as I splashed a little water on my neck it opened up almost as wide as his mouth when he screamed with all the intense fear only a child can muster.
My parents never forgave me for that. His parents left the area shortly after and we followed them to a quiet stretch of the highway. Their tiny cheap car didn't stand a chance against dad's off-road beast. Even now I can still feel the jolt of the impact and hear that metallic scraping crunch we collided and they span out and into a ditch.
It now takes us two and a half hours to reach church.
I didn't know why we went to that church in particular, especially when we passed three others on the way up and all of them looked decent enough. I only ever asked my parents about this once and received a lecture that lasted the entire drive and summed up to "we go where our folk are".
When you're a child everything in your life seems normal, everything is just how it is and everyone else is a bit weird but you - you are just as you should be. At least, that's how I saw things back in my younger days and now I know we were as far from normal as anyone can possibly get.
We weren't human for starters.
We were human-shaped but that's where all similarities ended. We had more in common with the prowling shapes in the black water than any Tom or Jane we shared a cup of tea with. For me, our differences came to a head when I told a friend that our church was under the water and we all had gills.
He was understandably annoyed at first and then scared when he realised I was being serious. Nothing about us looks unusual when we're dry and on land but as soon as I splashed a little water on my neck it opened up almost as wide as his mouth when he screamed with all the intense fear only a child can muster.
My parents never forgave me for that. His parents left the area shortly after and we followed them to a quiet stretch of the highway. Their tiny cheap car didn't stand a chance against dad's off-road beast. Even now I can still feel the jolt of the impact and hear that metallic scraping crunch we collided and they span out and into a ditch.
It now takes us two and a half hours to reach church.
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