Satyrday Evening at the Enchanted Lake

She was drunk, she was very drunk.
Alec wasn’t exactly sober himself; hell, no one at the bar was. But Bunnie was far gone. He didn’t even know her full name, just that she’d been very friendly all evening, and readily come home with him. Neither did he know how they had gotten to the topic they were talking about now, but it was strangely fascinating.

“Sa’yrs and nymphs,” she said, “They’ll do ya, they’ll really do ya. Down at the state park…myth foress, thass it, myth forest. Reelly do you.”
“State park? What state park?”
“Can’t rem, remember. Down a lil path, behin’ the porta-loos. Long lil path to the lake…up and up, then down, then up, then down…the lake. Strangers. They’ll do you, they’ll really do you.”
“What park ? what…s’ name?” he asked, none too coherently.
Bunnie waved her hand. “Tip of my tongue. Tell you when I re..remember.” She staggered off to the bathroom. She came back dressed and a little more sober, insisting she must leave. He saw her into a taxi, then fell into bed.
He awoke with a splitting headache. He dressed slowly, downed a glass of juice and a cold muffin, and picked up his car keys. A scrap of paper lay on his dresser, with a barely legible scrawl. Her phone number? That wasn’t it. It said ‘Adam Powell State Park.’
Maybe next weekend I’ll check it out, he thought.

***

The forest rustled in the late afternoon sunshine. Alec looked around at the shimmering leaves, and the unaccustomed quiet emphasized the sound. Parking his truck behind some bushes where it would not be obvious, he followed the path behind the portable lavatories at the car-park. He hoped it was the one that Bunnie had mentioned. The park closed at sundown and visitors were supposed to leave. He wanted to be well away and hidden before dusk.
Alec walked deeper into the woods, following the narrow path that seemed barely there. He wore camouflage khakis. Whether it helped conceal him or not, he could not tell, but it seemed the thing to do. He hoped there were no rangers around, enforcing the sun-down rule. His rifle was loaded and ready in case of danger. There were times a man needed a gun.
By sundown, having climbed up and down several steep hills, he reached the clearing on the edge of the lake. On either side, the forest went down to the water’s edge; an unseasonal rainfall had raised the level. Where he stood, the open space was almost a hundred yards across.
As darkness fell, he could hear the sound of pipes.
With the eye of an experienced hunter, he found a hiding spot amid some bushes, and settled in. The music drew nearer, together with a rustling of leaves that was louder than the usual forest fall. Then, quite suddenly, he was there, entering the clearing – a satyr. His body was that of a middle-aged man, and Alec could see a bald patch on his head. A little paunch indicated a life of some comfort. He wore no clothes. Below the waist, he was covered in short hair like goat-hide. His slender legs ended in neat hooves.
Alec held his breath. He wanted to stay and watch the satyr, undiscovered. It was dangerous. He knew what satyrs did to humans they discovered spying on them. It was not a pleasant death. Or was that centaurs? He tightened his grip on his rifle.
Two younger satyrs wandered into the clearing, pushing through the bushes near the lake. One was blond, the other had black hair cut straight across. Both paused, seeming to listen, and then continued playing. The blond one played a melody on his pipe; the dark one effortlessly kept up with him, complex trills and riffs embroidering the tune. Alec listened and waited, enthralled. Somehow, the twilight did not fade into night, but stalled at dusk.
“I know you’re there, you know,” said the oldest satyr in a conversational tone. Alec wondered if he was addressing him.
“Yes, you, the one in the bushes. You might as well come out.
Warily, Alec emerged. “How did you know I was there?”
“We heard you. We’re musicians. We understand sounds.”
“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” he asked, mouth dry.
“I don’t know,” the Satyr said. “Can you sing?”
“Sing?” asked Alec apprehensively. “Yeah, I can sing.” He didn’t usually sing when he wasn’t drunk, but he’d been in the a-capella choir as a kid, and done some solo parts.
“Just what we need. Here.” The satyr pulled a sheet of music from a bag he wore across his chest. “I’m Atris. These are Sarn and Behfal.”
Alec looked at the music, and it started to come back to him. He hummed the tune. As he sang, the pipes wove in and out, and soon they were singing a dialogue. The music rose and fell. Alec was intoxicated. He could hardly believe he was singing — with satyrs. He wanted more than anything to come back.
“Yes,” said Atris. “Next week, same time, same place. Tell no one. And don’t bring that weapon here.” And yet he felt faintly disappointment. They’ll do ya, they’ll really do ya. Was this what she’d meant? Music?

Sinday

Back at the carpark, Alec knew he didn’t want to leave, couldn’t wait a whole week. Instead, he slept in his truck, and late in the afternoon, followed the trail back into the forest, listening for the satyrs’ pipes as he neared the lake.
Instead, he heard a feminine voice. “Oh, do look what Atris has brought us. It’s a human man. Oh oh, he’s got a weapon.”
A group of naked laughing nymphs burst into the clearing.
Alec sprang to his feet. “I’m waiting for Atris,” he said, “I’m a little early.”
“A few days early,” said one, “But we don’t take it amiss.”
“Atris will be slightly late,” said another, “He’s…a bit tied up.”
“But you won’t be bored.”
“And neither will we.”
From the forest came an outraged shout. “Zira!”
Whoever Zira was, she ignored it.
They were circling him now. Five lovely females, their hair floating about their breasts like long soft fur.
“In fact, you might be glad.”
“Hey…” Alec wasn’t sure if he wanted to protest. He put out his hands to fend them off as they invaded his space. A nymph grabbed each of his hands, and gently but effortlessly, they pulled his arms behind him.
“You’re not going to be ungracious, are you?’
“Or are we mistaken? Do you prefer boys? The satyrs said not.”
“No, no, I like women,” Alec said desperately.
“Well, then,” said a nymph, “Lie back and enjoy it.” She unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt.
Alec realized he had been separated from his rifle, which lay near the log on which he had sat. The nymph saw him look.
“No, no, we don’t want these here,” she said, and flung it in a high arc into the lake. Alec realized the softness of the nymph’s arms belied their strength.
The voice in the forest called out again. “Velya! By Chiron’s corpse, let me loose!”
“Now,” she said, and reached for another button, and another. Soon, they had his shirt down about his shoulders. The nymph holding his arms, pulled down and back, forcing him to bend his knees and rest his head on her shoulder. Another unbuckled his belt, and laid it on the log. Then she unhooked and unzipped his pants.
“Nice,” she said, and then with a single swift movement, she pulled his trousers and boxer shorts down to his knees, leaving him bare.
“I think we need to get his boots off,” one said, and did so.
“What are you doing,” Alec asked, angry with himself that his voice came out a hoarse whisper, “What are you doing to me?”
“What do you think?’ they laughed.
“Lay him down, Zira, he’ll be more comfortable.” Zira deposited him in the grass. Something had been tied round his wrists; he couldn’t move them from behind him. A nymph reached under him, holding his butt and groping into the cleft between.
“Ah, that does turn you on,” she said, “And this should keep you going.”
She shook something toward his face. The perfume was pleasant but oversweet, a little intoxicating.
“And now, we’re going to have our way with you.”
Unsure of how this would end, Alec tried to shake his head, but one of the nymphs had her hands in his hair and he found he could not move his head. A nymph leaned down, and parting his lips with her tongue, kissed him hard. Then she straddled him.
“Am I going to die?” he asked.
“Friends, he wants to know if he’s going to die!”
“Wouldn’t that be a lovely way to go?”
Zira said, “Who’s on next?”
“Adra!” bellowed Atris from the forest, “Release me now!”
But he wasn’t going to die, though he felt like a little death, several times. After they finished with him, they helped him up and dressed him again, holding his arms behind his back the whole time. Several of them kissed him. Then with a merry “Next Sinday, then!” they were gone as suddenly as they had arrived.
Alec sat down hard on the log, breathing heavily. Soon afterward, Atris came into the clearing.
“Wretched minxes! They’re insatiable. They all had me twice before they got to you. I should have warned you. Never on a Sinday. They’re always mischievous, but on Sindays they do whatever they want and any sensible male just gets out of the way. I hope they weren’t too nasty.”
“Not really,” said Alec slowly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to avoid the woods on Sindays or not. “I thought satyrs chased nymphs, not the other way round.”
“Oh, that happens too,” said Atris, “Only not very often.”

Manday

Alec left work early and barely made it in at dusk. What would the evening bring?
It brought a beautiful woman, wearing a silver robe. As in a dream he moved toward her. Then she was naked and he found, so was he. She ran her hands through his hair and down his face and chest and belly and drew him gently to the ground. He put his arms around her and she melted into them. She kissed him deeply, making him catch his breath. He felt her reaching for him as he returned the kiss. The wind in the trees moaned a strange song. He rolled on top of her and thrust into her welcoming body, and she caught his rhythm and complemented it. He felt not quite awake, as though it was all a wet dream. But when he sat up afterward, she didn’t disappear.
She was looking at him speculatively. “Good…now, let’s explore some, shall we?”
“What do you mean?” he asked. He felt satiated, yet paradoxically hungry for more.
“Would you like this, I wonder?”
Suddenly, where the woman had lain, Alec was looking at a large man standing naked and ithyphallic.
“No!” He recoiled in shock. “I’m not into that!”
“Hey, hey,” the man growled, “No need to go all phobic.”
Alec scrambled to his feet. “I’m not homophobic, I just don’t go for that. Some of my best friends…” Are what? he thought, unable to complete the sentence. Beautiful women who transform into big guys on the ready?
The big guy casually dropped a hand on his shoulder, and he found he couldn’t move. “I said it’s all right. We’re exploring.”
“Not that kind of exploring,” said Alec, trying to back away.
“Let’s try something else.” The hand disappeared from his shoulder as the big guy turned into a sheep. “This kind?” it baaed.
“No,” groaned Alec, “Not that kind either. Females, women, you know, girls, dames, chicks.”
Perhaps it took him too literally. The figure before him now was a large yellow bird, covered in downy feathers. It advanced enticingly toward him with a lascivious air. The moaning wind in the trees picked up again. The sound that had been eerily beautiful when it accompanied the lady in silver seemed a weird accompaniment to the chick’s overtures. It dipped its wings like an ostrich in love.
“Nooooooo,” said Alec, as it stepped him. In minutes it was over, surprising rather than painful. Avian proctology.
“That was – different,” said the chick, clicking its beak in pleasure or amusement. “But maybe we should try something else again.”
It changed into a small plump woman with tousled blond hair. “Better?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Alec, “Can we just stop the exploration here? Please?”
“Oh, all right,” she conceded. “I’ll hold this form for a bit.” She moved into his arms, and he responded gladly. The dry grass of the glade was inexplicably soft under them.

“My turn now. Hold still,” she said. Again, Alec found he could not move. Somehow, he had ended face down on the ground. She was on his back, and he guessed what was coming. She had extruded parts no woman possessed, and now she was going to possess him. With no other option, he lay still and was surprised when his body reacted anyway.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked. “Want to go back to the other way? You look ready.”
He did.
It felt like hours later when they stopped, having changed places several times. A yellow moon lay over the treetops, augmenting the magical twilight of the clearing.
Alec was exhausted. “I can’t keep up,” he confessed. “I’m beat.”
“Beat, eh?” the creature asked, “Interesting. Would you like…this ?”
There was a nasty whip in her hand. Alec’s mouth was dry with fear, though his body did not seem as afraid as he was.
Just in time, Atris appeared on one of the paths.
“Ubus! Aren’t you late?” he asked, “Velya was expecting you at their party. I just got away from there.”
“Oh crap!” said Ubus in a man’s voice, looking up at the moon, “It is late. See you in your dreams!” It vanished as suddenly as it had arrived.
“Who …?” Alec asked as he gathered up his clothes, “What…?”
Atris shook his head. “Incubus. Or succubus. He’d have played with you until you died. Your curiosity will get you into trouble. Come back on Satyrday, sing with us. Forget about the Myth Forest in between.”
Alec nodded, his mouth still dry. “I’ll see you Satyrday,” he said.

Twosday

But waking on Tuesday morning in his apartment, Alec just had to know. He called his office for a couple of days off. It was hard to concentrate, anyway. What happened in the Myth Forest on…Twosday?
The clearing was empty as the sun went down over the lake…but the lake was not. It seemed to be roiling, and in the distance, Alec heard a dog bark. He was drawn to the unstill water, to a small boat moored by the side of the lake. Should he get in it, he wondered. And go where? The lake was long and narrow, and the other side seemed quite close.
It’s a really bad idea to get in, Alec thought. Atris warned me. Coming back to the forest is bad, getting onto the enchanted lake is pushing it. But from the lake he might see deeper into the enchanted forest. Other places, maybe even more magical. It seemed as impossible not to step into the boat as it had been to listen to Atris’s advice. He laid the gun on the plank seat, and untied the rope. Taking up the oars, he set out.
Singing. He could hear singing, mixed in with the barking of dogs. Who was it? What was it?
“Scylla,” she said, popping out of the water. She wasn’t far away, and she was very lovely. “You liked my song, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” he said, “Scylla.”
“And I would like you!” Suddenly, a writhing tail flung out of the water. It wasn’t a tail; it was a bunch of tentacles, and at the base of them, mouths that were barking like dogs. The tentacles snatched at Alec. He ducked, and leaned on his oars, frantic to get away. Surprisingly, his boat seemed to be bobbing out of reach of the tentacles, powered by the desperation in his rowing.
“Oh, come back! You’re heading toward Charybdis, that’s not fair, you’re mine! ”
It was not his rowing; the water was being sucked toward a hole in the lake, and so was the boat. The thought of falling into that dark void was even worse than the tentacles, and he rowed frantically in the opposite direction.
“Good boy,” said Scylla sweetly, and a tentacle swished out of the water and grabbed him. He struggled against it, the image of those barking mouths looming huge in his mind. “No! Let me go, you bitch! I won’t be eaten!”
“Ohhh. I’m not going to eat you. At least, not like that.”
Another tentacle whipped round his waist, lifting him from his boat into the air. The first tentacle pushed the boat toward the shore, beaching it.
“Now, let’s look at you.” A couple of tentacles peeled his clothes off him as though he were a peculiar fruit, dropping them carelessly into the water. Then it wrapped round him so he could not move his arms.
“Oooh, nice.”
The top half of Scylla was all he could see above the waves, a beautiful face, flowing brown hair and generous bare breasts. Her voice was gentle, and when he concentrated on that, he could manage not to be afraid. He realized the tentacles and mouths were her bottom half, but hidden under water they seemed a separate entity.
“The nymphs were right. I owe Zira one.” A tentacle reached up behind him, stroking him in tender spots. “Yes,” she said, “Yes.” It lowered him into the water, within her reach. She leaned forward, put her arms around him, and kissed him on the mouth. Her breath was sweet in his nostrils. He closed his eyes. She did it again, and he responded.
“Lovely,” she said. “Now my other mouths would like some. Hold your breath and you won’t drown.
He did, and closed his eyes as well. He felt her other mouths one by one on his, bigger and hungrier than the mouth in her face. Just when he thought he could hold on no more, the tentacle raised him from the water. He gasped for air while she took him in her arms and kissed him again.
“I think you’re ready now.”
Under water, he could feel the nether mouths grabbing him, taking him. He cried out.
“There, there,” she said soothingly, “It will be over soon. Hold on.” A tentacle stroked him again and he gasped. Another mouth grabbed him. And another.
“Come on Scylla, you might share!” A breathy voice floated over the water.
“He came to me, Charybdis, not to you….but okay, I’m done. You can have him.”
“No!” shouted Alec with whatever strength he had left, “Not down the hole! I’ll drown!”
“Don’t be silly. She won’t drown you!” The tentacle stretched out and dropped him into the vortex in the lake. He found he could breathe, but it was dark, and he could see nothing.
He could feel it, though. It – she – was wrapping herself around him like a tangible fog, squeezing, stroking, massaging. He felt it between his lips, and tried to move back, but the dark thing held him immobile. He felt it push into his rear and enter him and he screamed, or tried to. The fog in his mouth stilled the noise. And then it took him, rolling him within itself like massage rollers. The excitement rose within him, and he lost his fear.
“Yes,” whispered a voice in his ear, “Yes. You’re ready.”
After the climax, after he had been rolled around and every nook and cranny of him explored by the sentient tangible fog, he lay still, waiting. She sighed.
“I suppose I should give you back.” The dark space seemed brighter now and he could make out the sandy lake floor, strewn with rounded boulders. He was pushed toward the surface. A tentacle shot in and looped itself around him. “Farewell,” she said breathily. “You were really sensible about not drowning. A lot of sailors could learn from you.” He realized the boulders were human skulls.
“Farewell,” echoed Scylla sweetly. The tentacle reached across the lake, and deposited him in the clearing.
“What about my clothes?” he shouted to Scylla, “I can’t go home like this!”
“Clothes?” she said, “Don’t worry, you look fine like that.” She disappeared into the lake.
Alec sat down on the log. He was cold. The moon was quite high, but his watch had gone into the lake like his clothes and his rifle.
“Atris!” he shouted, “Atris!”
After a few minutes, the satyr appeared. “Alec. I thought you were not coming until Satyrday.”
“I had to know.”
“Know what?”
“About Twosday.”
“Twosday, eh? Don’t tell me. Scylla and Charybdis got you.”
“Yes. And my clothes. And my…” He stopped himself before he could say gun. “And my watch.”
“You’re lucky, they probably liked you. They’ve eaten people, you know.
“I know,” said Alec feelingly.
“I didn’t mean that in a good way,” said Atris.
Alec shuddered. He was not sure whether it was because of the ordeal, or the cold.
“I can’t help with the clothes or the watch,” continued Atris sympathetically. “I’d give you some, but we don’t use them around here. You’d best go home before you freeze.”
Alec stumbled back through the dark forest. He had never noticed how many brambly and thorny plants there were along it. He reached his truck and felt under the rear bumper for the spare key taped there. He turned the heat up and drove. Reaching home in the early hours, he found parking only half a block from his apartment, and ran all the way back. “Hope no one saw me,” he thought as he let himself in, trying to make no noise at all with the keys.

Wendday
There are days when it’s a bad idea to go into the Myth Forest and Wenddays are probably among them. Terrified by his encounter with Scylla and Charybdis, Alec nevertheless found himself back in the Park the next evening. He remembered what Atris said. To these forest creatures, he was only a toy, an amusement. But what would dusk bring this time?
The terrible groan from the woods by the lake startled him. Alec dared not move. It sounded grieved and angry. More groans came, and then the tone changed to a most miserable moaning. A person-sized figure, glittering like sunlight on ice, emerged from the path.
“Ohhhhh,” it moaned.
Alec jumped to his feet holding his hunting rifle, a new one to replace his old favorite now moldering in the lake. He didn’t think it would be much help but he hung on to it anyway. The temperature in the clearing fell sharply.
Something about the creature reminded him of Charybdis. He could feel fingers of ice stealing down his neck and into his pants, though the icy man didn’t move at all. Alec stiffened.
“Mine is a long and dreadful tale,” it said dolefully. “I killed an albatross.”
“Oh, I know your story,” said Alec, relaxing somewhat. The snow-fingers seemed to vanish. “A poet wrote about it.”
“You will listen to *me* tell it.”
“Okay,” said Alec. He tried to remember the poem, if the wedding guest to whom the mariner told the story came to a bad end. Anyway, there was no choice. Alec discovered he could not move.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Wendigan.”
The ghost or whatever it was started its long and dreadful story. Alec’s mouth felt strange and salty, whether with empathy for its description of the ship with no water on board, or from fear, for it was an eerie tale. The sailor appealed to the Captain when all his shipmates turned against him, and he was offered a trial.
“I’ll try the whole cause, and condemn you to death!”
Alec was dimly aware of two things, that the story now wasn’t Coleridge’s, but another poet’s entirely; and that the last word was Death!
The invisible snow fingers were back, doing eerie things to his body. He tried to shift, but was frozen in position. The fingers continued their exploration. He felt as if they were entering him. Wendigan looked at him, expecting a reaction. Alec swallowed. “It is a long and sad tale,” he said.
The whole clearing felt dank and salty and wet, but his mouth was completely dry. He shivered, his core temperature dropping.

“Were you listening?” asked the being.
“You had got to the fifth bend, I think.” Alec shivered, trying hard to concentrate and remembering the reference to Alice.
“You insult me by talking such nonsense!”
Wendigan suddenly left the clearing, trailing, Alec could swear, a long tail of ice behind it. The ice-tendrils were gone. Alec shook.
At that moment, Atris sauntered in. “Alec. Velya told me you were here and Wendigan had found you.”
“Who was that? Wendigan? What is it?”
“A wendigo. It’s fascinated by hominids, and lurks in the woods and small towns and accumulates ghosts and stories. It moans most of the time with the ills of your species. It’s been known to eat humans, usually unwary hunters in our woods.” He looked pointedly at the rifle lying by the log.
“Your curiosity is going to kill you.” Atris sounded exasperated. “You can’t come here just any old day. Most of Wendigan’s stories don’t have happy endings. You wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the Pit and the Pendulum.”
Alec nodded. “I’ll see you Satyrday,” he said, his mouth still dry. He picked up his gun and left.

Thursday

Somehow Wendigan had been more terrifying than Scylla and Charybdis, especially when Atris cited the grim Poe story Alec still remembered so long after high school. And the freezing intrusive snow-tendrils… he wasn’t going back.
Instead, he went back to his usual bar. He hoped Bunnie would be there, the only person with whom he could talk about the Myth Forest. He was in luck. She came in soon afterward. He waved to her to join him. “I went to the Park,” he told her. “Do you go there at all anymore?”
“Park?”
“Satyrs? Nymphs and stuff? They were there.”
She said nothing at all for a minute. Then “I thought maybe you’d go with me.”
She sounded a little plaintive.
“You didn’t leave your number,” he pointed out, “Or even your name.”
“Can I go with you next time?”
She moved closer, her blond hair spilling onto his shoulder. Her lithe body turned toward him, her breasts evident under her form-fitting top. He could see the mascara on her eyelashes, as she looked at him wide-eyed.
Somehow, none of this stirred him as it had the night she went home with him. She was – well, she was like every other 20-something pretty blonde woman. Just another human female. Except, of course, that she knew about the Park.
“Maybe,” he said. “When did you go there?”
“Two years ago,” she said. “Early spring.” She took a sip from the whiskey Alec ordered for her. “I met this woman in a bar. She talked about these weird goings-on in the Park, and wanted me to go with her. It was sort of a dare.”
“And?” he asked. Her tone suggested there was more to the story.
“It was freaky like she said. But she died.”
“Who? The other woman?”
“Yes. They were after us, I ran, and she fell. The rangers found her later.”
“How did she die?” asked Alec.
“I don’t know. The verdict was death by misadventure. She hit her head when she fell. Or maybe a thing got her.”
“Didn’t you know she wasn’t with you?”
Bunnie shook her head. “I was scared. I thought she’d hide, come out in the morning. She had the car keys. I ended up in the parking lot all night, alone and palely loitering.”
“You still want to go back?”
“Yes,” said Bunnie.
“I could have been killed and eaten.” Alec shuddered as he recalled the icy tendrils, the toothy nether mouths, the foggy fingers. “Frozen. Suffocated by Charybdis. I’m not going back.”
“Maybe you won’t get a chance, anyway,” she said. “Sometimes they stop showing up. And you wait and wait and wait, and only a few deer wander through perfectly ordinary woodland.
He looked at her in horror. “They stop showing up?”
“Fresh meat,” she said bitterly, “They want fresh meat. Will you go with me? Maybe then they’ll appear to me.”
“Maybe,” he said, but he didn’t mean it. Who knows, she might end up dead like the other woman she mentioned. Or worse, they would see nothing. He was going back, and he was going alone.

***

© 2008 Keyan Bowes

Keyan Bowes is frequently ambushed by stories, and took the 2007 Clarion Workshop for science fiction and fantasy writers in self defense. Keyan’s work has been accepted by Strange Horizons and Big Pulp, and will be included in an upcoming Clarion anthology. For more updates on Keyan, please visit his web page at www.keyanbowes.org)